Uncle Kenny

He was one of those people who, upon entering a room, brought instant energy and enthusiasm.  And he always made us laugh. 

He was my hero.

Some of my earliest childhood memories were of roughhousing with Uncle Kenny in the living room.  The only thing I didn’t like was when he would turn his eyelids inside out and play dead.  I did not like it one bit.  But he would always jump up and say, “Gotcha!” 

I recall my grandmother had a Coryparty.  A man came in and cooked a full course dinner for about 20 people using Cory pans.  I remember he made rice, because that was one of my favorite foods as a youngster.  The other thing I remember to this day was that the man went around the table and had each person introduce himself.  I was a bit timid, so Uncle Kenny picked me up and said, proudly, “And this is my niece, ‘Ben-Ben’.”  He had a way of making me feel special.  It was such a small thing, yet so impactful.

I wanted a playhouse, but not the normal kind for dolls and tea.  I wanted my own little bookstore where friends could come and read books with me and have tea and cookies.  You could say this was the precursor to Barnes and Noble^® as my maiden name was “Barnes”.  It was, perhaps, a silly little childhood dream, but one adult in my life – Uncle Kenny – listened and actually made sure I got that playhouse.

It was the 1960′s.  I had to be just three or four years old.  My grandmother told me that “Uncle Sam” was coming to take Uncle Kenny.  Well, I would have none of that!  I kept going to the door and looking out, determined that this “Uncle Sam”, whoever he was, was not going to take my Uncle Kenny away.  But he did. 

I wrote lots of “little kid” letters to Uncle Kenny.  He said those letters kept him going when the times got tough, which apparently they did.  This was the Vietnam era.  While serving in the Air Force, his first wife left him for someone else.  He shipped home to deal with that, and on the way back, he was in a serious car accident.  After serving his country, he remarried and found happiness with his new wife and, together, they raised three children…well, almost.  You see, he had his first heart attack at the young age of 29.  It was very serious.  But he did not let it get him down. 

Uncle Kenny was an amazingly talented carpenter and craftsman.  He ingeniously built his family a home on shoestring budget.  With walnut wainscoting, scavenged from an old barn, and custom walnut cabinetry, it is a beautiful testament to his abilities and hard work.

One day, in March of 1989, my husband came home with a pheasant he had found lying on the side of the road.  It was a beautiful bird, and he wanted to have it mounted.  So I called Uncle Kenny to see if he knew anybody that could help us.  He said, “I sure do.  You get it here, and I’ll get it mounted for you.” 

This was a Sunday afternoon.  We were in Indiana, and he was in Ohio.  We did something that is just not like us.  We called off work and embarked on an eight-hour drive to Uncle Kenny’s house – no trip planning, just took off.  We got there, spent almost all night talking with Uncle Kenny, slept a couple of hours, and then drove eight hours home.  It was a whirlwind trip, and we were exhausted.  But he told us things that night that he had never told us before…about Vietnam and how hauntingly hard it was, and about how he knew he was going to Heaven someday because of me.  (On a visit with him and his family as a teenager, I had asked them to take me to church, and he became a Christian as a result.)  It was an endearing visit.  He had talked a lot about his projects, especially the deck he was building around his pool.  He seemed urgently concerned about getting that deck finished.

June 10, 1989.  My husband and I had gone to sleep early in the evening because of his work schedule.  About 10:00 p.m., I woke up suddenly.  No reason.  Just woke up.  So I lay there thinking about how fortunate I was to have such a good husband and family, about how hard it would be to someday lose those in my family that I loved so much, and about how thankful I was to have a husband to be there as those days would inevitably come.  Odd thoughts for me.  And then, a slightly panicked thought, as I remembered this was Uncle Kenny’s birthday, and I had not sent him a birthday card.  And then another odd thought – “Don’t worry, you won’t have to.”  I fell back to sleep finally.  Around midnight, my husband went off to work, and I went back to sleep.  Then the phone rang – Uncle Kenny was gone.  He had died about the time I was awakened from sleep.  They had friends over for his birthday party.  He had jumped into the pool and had a heart attack.  He died on the deck he had felt so driven to build. 

Uncle Kenny was born on June 10, 1946 – and he died on June 10, 1989, his forty-third birthday.  So young, so full of life…and so suddenly gone. 

My aunt had a lovely funeral for him in the home he had built.  As I looked into the casket, I half expected him to jump up and say, “Gotcha!”.  But he did not.  He was really and truly gone.  Uncle Kenny was so full of life that his passing left gaping holes in the lives of those who knew him.  We all loved him with a bigger-than-life kind of love…as he had loved us.  He left behind a young wife, three young children, grieving parents and sisters, and a very heartbroken niece.

It’s been 21 years, and I still miss him.  Uncle Kenny truly was a life changer for me.  He loved me, and I knew it.  He listened to me as a child and encouraged my dreams.  He listened to me as a teenager whose parents were divorcing and encouraged hope.  He listened to me as an adult and encouraged my endeavors.  No matter what happened, I knew Uncle Kenny loved me, and that was HUGE.

And so, as I ponder the life of Uncle Kenny, I am compelled to share these parting thoughts in his honor. 

I will call them “NEVER EVER’s”.

• NEVER EVERunderestimate your impact on the life of a child. Love children, play with them, encourage their dreams, and comfort them when they are hurting.
• NEVER EVERmiss an opportunity to spend time with a person you love. Work is important, but never more important than people. If you are compelled to visit someone, don’t miss that chance.
• NEVER EVER let yourself be defined by your obstacles – be defined by your ability to overcome them. This is how Uncle Kenny lived. Often the people who face the hardest trials are the people who bring the most light into the lives of others. He was one of those.

21 years from now…

Will you be remembered as a “life changer”?