As we approach the first year anniversary of Ken's passing, I want to add my sentiments.
I loved Ken. He was my oldest, continuous friend. He visited us more than once in NYC, including shortly after 9/11 when no one was traveling and NYC was a ghost town. He felt strongly that by getting on a plane and visiting us in Brooklyn was the best way to respond to the horror of what had happened in NYC and elsewhere on that fateful day.
He and I spent many hours in the swimming pool where he successfully learned to get from one side of the pool to the other without drowning or, in frustration, throwing the kick board I put him on to learn to kick properly, and nearly decapitating the nearby lifeguard. (Kick boards thrown correctly can really catch air, including in the BYU indoor pool at the Richards Building.)
I think of Ken often now that the pools have re-opened following the pandemic and where I've returned for exercise. Occasionally when I turn to breath I see think I see through my foggy goggles Ken standing there on the deck or clinging to the side, smiling.
I believed in Ken's artwork. He was a fine cartoonist (pen and ink) for years and his drawings, illustrations and cartoons with clever captions appeared for about three years in the American Theatre Critics Association's newsletter Critics Quarterly, for which I was editor in NYC.
Finally, Kenneth was a spiritual brother to me. At a dark time in my life when I had behaved in a way that was highly questionable and that hurt the person I love the most, I shared with him my experience through a letter. I was heartsick with myself, confused about my future, and unclear how to move forward. For whatever reason, and after years of friendship, Ken was the one person I could share my woes with. I still have the letter he wrote back to me. He didn't whitewash anything, he didn't try to dismiss my behavior, but he showed compassion and sensibility about my situation and helped me move forward. he was a true and needed friend to me and critical time.
I will always remember that kind token from him, one of many. He probably never knew how much I loved him, and how resonant and stabilizing a force he was in my life as I bumped along, and as he bumped along as well through his own challenges and joys.
