Four Score and Forever

On his honeymoon in June, 2014 my son Rob took what has been since I first saw it one of my favorite photographs.  Its beauty never fails to raise a catch in my throat.  

Old Glory as seen thru the USS Arizona Memorial 

Pearl Harbor, HI (June 2014)

Photo credit:  Robert J. MacMaster

It was eighty years ago today that the USS Arizona made its heart wrenching transformation from active duty battleship to eternal resting place for far too many of its sailors who died aboard it when the Imperial forces of Japan attacked Pearl Harbor and forced the United States into WW II as an active combatant.  

Slightly more than three and one-half years - and countless lives lost - later, WW II ended with the unconditional surrender of the Imperial forces of Japan on the deck of the USS Missouri, which itself  presently occupies a place of honor at Pearl Harbor.  

Eighty years.  It is both a long time and an eye blink.   Except for those killed that day.  For them, it is forever.   

-AK

Godspeed to the Greatest Generation

This weekend, this country bade farewell to (at least) two more members of the Greatest Generation.  

Colonel Ed Shames was the last surviving brother from the Band of Brothers, the men of the United States Army's Easy Company, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division who fought their way across Europe from Normandy to Hitler's Eagle's Nest.  He was ninety-nine years old when he died, peacefully at home, on Friday. 

Bob Dole died on Sunday.  He was ninety-eight years old.  His life in the service of this country included not only his World War II service in which he suffered a serious injury that he used as an impetus to achieve tremendous success, including during his long career in the United States Senate.   He sought the Republican nomination for the Presidency of the United States three times, earning it in 1996, when Bill Clinton defeated him to win a second term in the White House. A lifetime ago, in 1988, I volunteered for his campaign for the Republican nomination while I was a junior at CU.   He did not win the nomination, of course, which President George H.W. Bush (‘41) captured.  He carried himself in defeat with the same grace he exhibited in triumph.  

All these years later, I still list my experience working for his campaign on my resume and my bio.  I do it because it makes me feel good to have been associated with Mr. Dole, even if it was only for a fleeting moment a long, long time ago.  

-AK

 

A Month of Sundays

Today is the first Sunday in December.   Twenty-eight days ago, on November’s first Sunday, I woke up at the Wall Street Inn in lower Manhattan prepared to complete the New York City Marathon one final time and excited that Margaret and I had signed a contract to buy a home in Manasquan.   

With respect to the latter, the deal fell through, which is often the case in real estate transactions.  Our search continues.   

With respect to the former, that did not happen either...  

…as you might have heard.

-AK

Something More Important Than Fear

Tate Myre died this week.   Truth be told, he was murdered.   When the latest in the seemingly endless series of disgruntled teenagers opened fire on his fellow Oxford, Michigan High School students, Tate Myre did not run from the gunfire in an effort to save himself.  Instead he ran towards it, in an effort to save as many as he could.  He paid for his valor with his life, dying in the back of the marked police car that officers were driving with all due speed in a desperate attempt to get him to a hospital.  

Tate Myre was sixteen years old.   The youngest of three brothers, he was a star athlete on Oxford High’s football and wrestling teams.  On what tragically proved to be the last weekend of his life, he visited the University of Toledo on a recruiting visit for football.  Apparently at some point after he had accepted Toledo’s invitation, he was extended one to visit Michigan State University for its game against Penn State.   I know not how many kids in that spot would have sent eleventh-hour regrets to Toledo and made their way to East Lansing.   

I know one who did not.

-AK 

And Then There Were Fifty-Four

 

The great hero of my life died fifty-four months ago today.  Even with a green thumb as black as mine, I live the truth of Tennyson’s words every day.   I shall do so for as long as I draw breath.  For I did not simply love my mother for her whole life.  I shall love her for the entirety of mine.  

-AK

When You’ve No Need for the Other 997

Yesterday morning, the Missus sent me a photograph that said everything that needed to be said in three simple words.  

Maggie:  the creator of Pop Pop

Three years after the fact, she remains my favorite cover girl.    Yours truly looks significantly better in her artist’s rendering than I did in the cover photo for the book.  

Pop Pop Rules:  A great idea for Christmas (Amazon)

Subject to any questions, this concludes today’s briefing.  

-AK

The Flight of Time

It occurred to me this morning, as I traded the warmth of my bed for the uncertainty of the world beyond my covers that today begins my eleventh month at Kennedys.   I would say “eleven months already” except I came here on February 1, 2021 after having spent more than twenty-three years with my previous firm.   Twenty-three years.  Not quite half my life but significantly more than one-third of it.   That’s a long damn time.  

I am not a young man.  I transitioned from youth to middle age too many years - and too many white whiskers - to remember.  I smile a little at the fact that as old as I am, I am still the youngest of the Kenny sibling sextet.   As a group, we have occupied this planet for a long time.   In my case, I know it has been longer than any number of folks might have otherwise hoped.   May those who espouse that position take solace in the fact that based upon the manner I conducted my day-to-day as a much younger man, I am as surprised as you that I am still here.   Somewhere, I reckon, the late, great Mickey Mantle smiles.   

As do I.  I smile when the oldest and most precocious of my Fab Five, Maggie, looks at me up close when I scoop her up in my arms and marvels at my white whiskers and ever-whitening hair while chuckling, “You’re old, Pop Pop!”  I smile because I know what she does not, which is I am the youngest of her grandparents…at least in terms of age.   I smile because the man I was thirty-plus years ago never could have imagined her, or Cal, or Abigail, or Rylan, or Shea.  And present-day me gets to do so much more than simply imagine them.  I get to experience them.  

Truth be told, changing the trajectory of one’s career at my age was not the most comfortable thing I have ever done.  Not by a long shot.  It was necessary though and eleven months later, it appears to be working out just fine.   Spoiler alert:  I do not intend to spend the next twenty-two years at Kennedys.   I do not intend to spend it practicing law.  As a much younger man the thought of retirement amused me.   I never could envision wanting to do it.  Now?  It energizes me.  It drives me.  

Who’d have thunk it?

-AK