Prepared To Meet Any Challenge

”The price of freedom is eternal vigilance.”

Thomas Jefferson

Today is the third Saturday of May.  It is Armed Forces Day.  It is the day whose creation President Harry S. Truman championed - envisioning as he did the designation of a day on which, we the people of these United States, would take a moment to thank our service members for their service in support of our country.  A single day.  Administrative Professionals have a whole week.  Someone get Alice on the horn please.  We have passed through the looking glass entirely.

While I lacked the fortitude to do it, various members of my family - cutting across generational lines - have wore this nation's uniform.  They have done so both in times of peace and in times of war.  Mom's brothers John and Jim were both in service during the Korean War.  Uncle John was sent to Korea to fight.  Uncle Jim was sent to Arlington, Virginia to guard the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.  My oldest sib - my brother Bill - served in the Air Force (thankfully during a time of peace) is exotic locales such as Greenland before being sent to West Germany.  But for his service he might not have ever had occasion to go to West Germany, which is where he met, fell in love with and married Sigrid and which is where he and Sigrid had their two children.  The Kenny Family's European branch office might never have existed but for Bill's service to our country.  Evan's younger daughter, Heather, who in my mind's eye is forever fourteen years old, served as well.

Margaret's Great Uncle Pat - who was her Mom's uncle - served in World War II.  He was killed in action.  If you visit the WW II Memorial in Washington, DC (and you should) you can look him up on the information kiosk.  The photo that the Memorial has is one that Suzy B. sent to them in honor of Uncle Pat.  On her Dad's side, Joe's older brother Andy Bozzomo also was a World War II veteran.  Uncle Andy was in the Army and spent time in Italy and in Africa.  He too is among the WW II veterans whose information can be perused at the Memorial.  Margaret's Uncle Mike - her Mom's younger brother - is a veteran also, having served during peacetime.  

To the members of my family who have served this nation and to the members of your family who have done and/or continue to do likewise, I say "Thank you".   Enjoy your day.  You have damn sure earned it. 

-AK

Lemming Ade....

This time next week folks all over these United States shall be (to borrow a line from the Tantric One himself), "Packed like lemmings into shiny metal boxes".  Contestants in the race to mark the arrival of the Summer of 2013.  Memorial Day weekend is but one week away.  

Hurricane Sandy and her half-witted cousin Snowstorm Nemo conspired to make it feel as if it was an extraordinarily long winter in these parts.  Mother Nature has held the State of Concrete Gardens and our brethren in New York and Connecticut under her thumb since the weekend before Halloween.  The weather this month has been comprised of far more good days than bad.  And when one is out and about on a good-weather day, whether driving or running or whatever, the feeling of anticipation is almost palpable.  We are ready for Summer's arrival.  We want it. 

More than that - we need it.    

Of course, as soon as Summer arrives in full force with 90 degree/90% humidity days back- to-back-to-back these parts will be shoulder-deep in assholes whining about how hot it is and wishing aloud for the arrival of cooler weather.  In my experience, a disproportionately large number of them occupy space in my place of employment.  

Irrespective of the climatological conditions, the grass is always greener after all.

-AK

The Weather Girls....

The girl child arrives in the State of Concrete Gardens tomorrow.  On this journey home, Ryan shall accompany her.  Saturday is Suzanne's bridal shower.  Presuming Ryan won whatever coin toss they had in Texas before jetting East, he shall spend his Saturday afternoon as I shall - doing something other than attending the shower. 

 

The Missus has already informed me that my presence is not requested at the event.  Well, it is not requested while the event is on-going.  It is requested at the end of the event to help gather up whatever "stuff" needs to be transported from the restaurant to our home.  It is "Moving Day Redux"!   Methinks however that in the interest of keeping everyone sane, we shall proceed without the assistance of the crack crew whose services we employed this past Saturday. 

 

This marks another visit during which Suzanne shall be in New Jersey for a concentrated period of time, which period of time shall be almost wholly occupied by all things wedding-related.   That of course means that I shall see scant little of her.  That matters not even a little.   All that matters to me is that she and Margaret shall have the opportunity to mark a milestone moment in both of their lives. 

 

And they shall do it together.  The way that it was meant to be done. 

 

-AK  

Idle Time....

It has been a really, really busy past few weeks both at work and home.  I have spent even more time than usual in my car.  My fellow drivers shall be relieved to learn - no doubt - that I multi-task while I drive.  When I am not using my Dictaphone or having hands-free telephone conversations, a zillion different thoughts are racing through my mind.  Here are some of them that have occupied the space between my ears at one time or another over the course of the past several days. 

If this image neither moves you nor brings a catch to your throat, then volunteer for one of Richard Branson's space rides to another planet.  I for one would prefer not to share any of Earth's prime real estate with you any longer

One of my best days of the year - each and every year - is the Tunnel to Towers Run through the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel and into Lower Manhattan.  The race ends at the new World Trade Center.  September 29, 2013 cannot get here soon enough.  

I do not pay much attention to NBA Basketball.  I simply am not a fan.  However, I could not help but notice that in less time than it took the Indiana Pacers and the New York Knicks to play two games of their playoff series - with both games being played in Indiana - the New York Rangers and the Washington Capitals played the final three games of their NHL playoff series....and did so while traveling from Washington, DC to New York and then back to Washington, DC.  In case you were watching 2 Broke Girls on Monday night and missed Game 7, allow me to bring you up to speed

Not too very long after the game ended on Monday night I chatted via the magic of social networking with Laura Stout - a stalwart member of one of the finest families I have ever had the privilege of knowing, a devout Caps fan and the younger sister of David Stout who died tragically in late March.  Laura's message was succinct and beautiful.  While she was sad that the team she roots for had lost, the win by the Rangers gave her a moment's smile as she thought of David.  He was a passionate Rangers fan and she imagined him sitting somewhere watching the seconds count down and smiling.  

Her observation made me smile because I immediately thought Monday night - as I do at the end of every Rangers playoff series - of Dad.  It was my father's passion for Rangers hockey that permitted it to become such an important part of my life at an early age.  David Stout was always one of my father's favorites.  I replied to Laura by telling her that I pictured Dad sitting right there with David, basking in the win.  Not a bad visual picture to paint.  Not bad at all.  

I do not run across Rob's on-line ruminations too often.  Either he has few of them or my lack of attention to detail prevents me from processing them.  Early Tuesday morning though I saw one that woke up the echoes of a great night for a lifetime ago.  When Rob and Suzanne were very little, they were enormous Rod Stewart fans.  So much so that I made sure I carried Rod Stewart cassettes in my car for them to listen to on long trips.  It is a memory I cherish.

I also cherish the memory of having taken them when they were not much more than six and seven years old to see Rod Stewart at Continwntal Arena.  Margaret and I got our share of askance glances that evening for sure.  The kids had a great time.  Me too.  I had feared that over the course of the past two decades their recollection of that evening had

faded.  I was pleased to learn that it had not.

-AK

Lines and Tracks....

It appears as if most of us - both the bipeds and the quadrupeds - have made it through the first couple of days of "the move" in fairly good stead.  Rosie was part of the first wave - coming with Margaret and me when we were in the hunkering down process on Saturday.  She spent most of Saturday afternoon and evening working her way through shell shock.  By mid-afternoon Sunday she was settled in fine.  Two things inured to her great benefit.  

First, Sunday afternoon 'NTSG was simply beautiful.  She spent most of it sleeping in her brand new, sun-soaked back yard.  Second, the new house is all on one level.  Rosie spent the first five years of her life learning now to negotiate a full flight of stairs to get from our first floor to our second.  Happiness for my dog is NOT having to walk up and down stairs.   I suppose a third thing factored into her settling in so nicely on Sunday to her new environs.  I grilled rib-eye steaks for Mother's Day.  Our address may have changed but Rosie's job as First Assistant/Official Taster of all grilled foods has not.  Happiness for my dog IS medium-rare rib-eye steak.  

Neither Dempsey nor Boo, our two cats, had left the house in an automobile in close to a dozen years.  Needless to say, each reacted to the chance to take a Sunday drive in Margaret's car in a manner somewhere south of euphoria.  Dempsey went full-out hysterical.  He screamed from inside the cat carrier as if he was being brutalized.  His claws are sharper than I realized - as evidenced by the blood-drawing gouges he left in both of my arms and by his ability to slice through a Breast Cancer Awareness rubber bracelet that I wear on my right wrist....or more properly that I wore on my right wrist.  Dempsey went "Ginsu" on it and created a second one for me without my even having to ask.  Unfortunately the old saw about a coach who claims he has two starting quarterbacks not actually having any applies with full force and effect to Breast Cancer Awareness rubber bracelets too.  

And perhaps to houses as well.  We have not yet put our home on the market, which has lent a somewhat relaxed vibe to our move.  Between the time the movers left our new digs Saturday afternoon until the time my head contacted my pillow on Sunday night I had made not less that ten trips "home" for one thing or another.  I am weaning myself off of it slowly I reckon.  One foot in my new world.  One foot out.  

One step up....

-AK 

Fire and Rain....

Slightly more than one month ago - and only two days before her 22nd birthday - Paige Aiello disappeared.   She simply walked away from her home, from her family and from her life.  As all of us do from time to time - and as younger folks tend to do more often than us of a more grizzled variety due largely to all of the pressure (both real and perceived) they face - Paige had been going through a pretty rough patch.  Try as they might - and they tried damn hard - neither her parents nor her older sister Erin could pull her out of it.  And try as she might have, Paige could not pull herself out of it either.  

At the time of her disappearance from her parent's home on April 9, her family feared the worst.  Yet they never stopped hoping for the best.  Sadly, last Wednesday their worst hopes were realized.  Only a few short days before Mother's Day,  Paige's body was recovered from the Hudson River - roughly one mile south of the George Washington Bridge.  It was on the Bridge's upper level that Paige's purse had been discovered the night on which she disappeared.  

A parent's worst fear is to outlive a child.  It is a fear only compounded by the fear that your child may - in spite of everything that you know she knows about herself and how much she is loved - at some point feel so overwhelmed by life that all she knows and all she has been taught eludes her grasp.  Including perhaps how to share those feelings with you as her parent.   And as a parent, your brain teaches you that no matter what you do or how hard you try you shall not be able to shield your child from all of the world's bad stuff.  Intuitively you know you cannot.  Yet you try your damnedest to do just that.  Your heart earns its paycheck by telling your brain to go "F***" itself.  It inspires you to try irrespective of the knowledge that you shall fail more often than not.  And every failure pierces you more than the one before it did.  

When interviewed Thursday evening - only hours after the police had notified her and her parents that Paige's body had been recovered - her older sister Erin (with whom Paige was going to live while she attended Rutgers-Newark Law School beginning in September) said, "Everything was just beginning."....  

....until it ended all too soon.   And dissolved into a scene of abject sadness.

-AK 

On the Lookout for Strays....

I am an asshole.  Always have been.  Enough of a realist to acknowledge that I shall always be.  Such is life here 'NTSG.  For reasons far beyond my limited ability to comprehend I have been blessed by the love of a good woman.  Presently the good woman charged with the duty of curbing my inner asshole and keeping me walking in upright position is Margaret - my wife and the mother of my children. 

 

A quarter-century or so prior to Margaret's assumption of the day-to-day responsibility of protecting me from me - and everyone else from me as well - that duty was assumed (voluntarily or as far as I know anyway) by the bravest, toughest old Irish broad the world has yet laid its eyes on:  the indomitable Joanie K. 

 

Being the slug that I am, I tend to do a really, really bad job of remembering just what an extraordinary woman Mom is.  Way back when - in the Spring of 1997 - before she moved to Florida, I had an epiphany while sitting in the courtroom of the Hon. Elijah Miller, Jr., J.S.C. who at that time sat in the Criminal Part of the Superior Court of New Jersey in Bergen County.  A number of things Judge Miller said from the bench in his Hackensack courtroom that morning resonated with me and reminded me of what a fool I had been. 

 

His words also served as the impetus for an essay I wrote, which The Star-Ledger requested permission to publish, and which appeared on the front page of the Perspective section of the Mother's Day Edition of the paper.  Mother's Day 1997.   When I saw Mom most recently - in February - I took note of the fact that her framed copy of the piece still has preferred seating in her China cabinet.  

 

It bears pointing out here that it is joined in her home by the hotplate I made for her as a Mother's Day present in the early 1970's.  The advantage to being the youngest of six siblings is that a mother's expectations have either been whittled down to nothing or wholly satisfied by the exploits of her children by the time Child #6 makes the scene, so you view his ability to do something productive once every quarter-century as a pleasant surprise.  In the event you have never had the pleasure of meeting any of my five older sibs and wonder therefore whether it is the former or the latter that applies to the Kenny clan, let me say simply this:  Mom would not know how to whittle if her life depended upon it. 

 

"Lacks whittling skills"  Huh, I suppose that means she is not perfect after all.  Damn close to it though.  And that has always been more than good enough. 

 

Happy Mother's Day....



Originally appeared in Mother's Day Edition of The Star-Ledger
(Perspective Section - May 1997)

-AK