Fifty Seven One Sixty Three

Forty-two years ago today, at the age of fifty-seven years and one hundred sixty-three days William P. Kenny, Sr. died.  He was my father.  At the time of his death, I was fourteen.  I am now fifty-six.   I have now reached the point of my existence where I have lived three times as long without my father as I lived with him.  

Song for Orphans

-Bruce Springsteen

For those keeping score at home - and I assure you I am - July 16, 2024 is circled on my calendar.  It shall mark the one hundred and sixty-fourth day of my fifty-seventh year.  I intend to get there.  I owe my father at least that much.  

-AK  

For Those Who Gave All

Today, as I have done in this space on this day since he first wrote it, I share with you something Rob wrote fifteen years ago.  Neither time nor distance from the moment of its creation have dimmed or dulled the weight and the wisdom of Rob's words - and the deep feelings that inspired them.  

 

Just A Thought

I started thinking in this time of war what this day means. It is for those who didn't come back. They didn't come back to their mothers, their wives or their kids. They stormed beaches, fought and died in foreign countries. All that returned was a box and a folded flag.

I recently attended a Springsteen concert in North Carolina. I traveled by plane through this American land because I could, because I am free - and because of the generosity of some good friends. As Springsteen played a song called "Last to Die" I got emotional. The song asks, "Who'll be the last to die...." presumably in the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan. It does not matter what you think of the American involvement in these wars. What does matter is that we remember these brave American servicemen and servicewomen.

Meanwhile I am enjoying a Springsteen concert, enjoying a beer and enjoying starting a career with the best government in the world; enjoying freedom. How can I do this? These are my brothers, my peers, guys my age fighting and dying. They volunteered so I didn't have to. They're not coming back to their favorite band, their favorite beer, their families or the state they grew up in.

Their children will not know their fathers. They will know only their sacrifice and some stories their mothers will tell. They sacrificed for someone they will never meet - you and me.

Remember them today.

-RJM

U.S.S. Arizona Memorial

Photo Credit: Robert J. MacMaster 

(c) 2014

-AK

Today It Is All About Taking Five

Today is the day that summer officially starts at the Shore.  How do I know?   I have the swag to prove it.

It is the 45th annual Spring Lake Five Mile Run.  Truthfully, with no guarantee that I shall see or be able to run in the 50th annual edition of this race, this may very well be the final “milestone” iteration of this race in which I shall run.   I intend to enjoy it.   

-AK

 

'Cause Summer's Here

 

For as long as I can remember, I have been an avid Bruce Springsteen fan.  For as long as  I have been a Bruce Springsteen fan, Racing in the Street has been my favorite song.  Today, as Memorial Day Weekend heralds the beginning of the Summer of '23, even more than on any other day, it strikes an even more resounding chord.  

I have lived my entire life in a part of the world that experiences all four seasons.  While I am no fan of winter, I accept its presence in my life.  It exists to hone my appreciation for summer and for time spent in a place I love more than any other, the Jersey shore, with the person I love more than any other, Margaret, simply appreciating the life we have worked hard - and continue to work hard at daily - to make for ourselves and for our family.  

Life is not easy.  Then again, nothing worth doing ever is.  Again, this year we have made it through the winter and have arrived at our reward for our perseverance.  Summer's here.  The time is right.  Do yourself the great favor of not squandering any of it.  Not even a single second. 

-AK 

Her Own Hero

Hail, Hail, the Queen of Rock and Roll! 

The singularly extraordinary Tina Turner died yesterday.  She was 83 years old.  Her life was far from easy.  Her journey was nothing short of remarkable.  Her voice resided at the much-sought-after yet rarely-arrived at point of  intersection where power and sexiness meet. 

It is a neighborhood to which few singers ever pay a visit.  Tina Turner called it home.   

(C) Peter Lindbergh

She sang the truth when she declared she had no need for another hero.  She was the hero of her own life.   

-AK

All Their Road Running

Yesterday, Rick Hoyt died.   He was sixty-one years old.  Twenty-six months ago, his father Dick Hoyt died.  Dick Hoyt was eighty years old.   

This dynamic father/son combination began competing in races in 1977 when Rick asked his dad, then 36 years old and not a runner, if they could run in a 5K race that was a fundraiser for a classmate who had been paralyzed.  

Rick was born profoundly handicapped as a consequence of his umbilical cord becoming twisted around his neck.  Rather than institutionalize him, the Hoyts raised Rick in their home.  

Dick Hoyt always said that following that first race, Rick told his dad he loved running with him because when they ran, Rick did not feel disabled.   From that neighborhood 5K they forged not just the most dynamic of duos but, more importantly, an extraordinary force for good in the form of The Hoyt Foundation.   

Long may they run.

-AK

The Power of Silence

Food for thought for Memorial Day, courtesy of the good people at the Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America:

-AK

A Day for Mom

May I suggest to those of you reading this piece whose mothers are alive, take J.K. Simmons' advice:

To my wife, my daughter, my daughter-in-law, my sisters, my sisters-in-law, and all of the extraordinary Moms who, every day, make life better for those they love, here is to hoping each of you enjoys the Mother's Day you so richly deserve.  

And for Mom and all the other mothers who are no longer here to celebrate the day, your presence is as keenly felt as your absence.  

-AK

Forever Buffs

Today is Graduation Day for the University of Colorado, Boulder’s Class of 2023.  Thirty-four years ago, it was the Class of 1989’s turn.  

CU Graduation 

May 12, 1989 B.B.

(Before Beard)

Actually, it was thirty-four years ago tomorrow.  I know because I keep my CU diploma framed on a wall in my office…and while my eyesight is not what it once was, I can still make out the date.  My thanks to whomever insisted on such large font.  

Passing of the Ceremonial Cap 

May 12, 1989

(Jay Bauer taking the handoff)

May this year’s graduating Buffaloes enjoy a day that shall resonate in their memory for at least the next thirty-four years.  May the days that follow this one bring them much luck, much love, and much peace.  

Mom and Me 

Graduation - May 12, 1989

(“Adsey” custom cap)

Shoulder to Shoulder.  Same as it ever was.  

-AK