I think that we're all born with a little switch somewhere inside our heads that is our 'life editor'. Some of us have it turned up to HIGH. Kenny turned his down to LOW.
I remember a friend of his telling us once that she sometimes found his antics exasperating when they were 'out in public'. They never seemed to spend much time alone - Kenny was always involving 'the neighbors', no matter where they were. She said he was like "an oversized, lovable, untrained puppy that you couldn't reign in."
Exactly.
Kenny was a big, friendly, expansive, enthusiastic man who jumped into life with both feet and enjoyed the ride. Once we went to a Dim Sum restaurant, one of the many off-the-beaten-path restaurants that he always seemed to be coaxing us to try. (An actual Kenny 'restaurant quote' after studying the menu - "That sounds terrible -I'll have it.") While most of us go to restaurants and pay little attention to the people sitting around us, not so Kenny. In less than 15 minutes, our neighbors were sitting at our table, we were all eating off each others plates, laughing, and becoming excellent friends. Jackson and Patty, Kenny loved you guys.
On another of our zillions of restaurant visits, our waitress, who was just a teenager, said something very profound that stuck with us for years. Mike, Kenny and I were debating whether or not to have dessert and she simply said "Life is short - Eat all you can." I think this perfectly describes Kenny's outlook on life and living. He traveled without much of an itinerary, drove fast, ate anything (except for menudo, the only food he thought should be against the law), immersed himself in living 'like the locals' no matter where he was, and thoroughly enjoyed himself in the process.
I would also like to thank Kenny for advising my then-confirmed bachelor-boyfriend Mike to stop dragging his feet and MARRY ME ALREADY, and for that little piece of advice I'll be forever grateful to him.
Kenny was also a very kind man who helped people without anyone ever knowing about it. When our son Gabe's friend Marcus needed a device to help him cope with the effects of his advanced Muscular Dystrophy, Kenny was the first one to step forward and help out financially. Because of Kenny's help, Marcus was able to live his last years in comfort and dignity.
Dr. Laura wrote a book titled "Bad Childhood - Good Life" but Kenny didn't need to read it. He had already discovered the antidote to a 'not so great' childhood. Some of the stories Kenny would recall about his early years growing up in the Mitchell household would send most of us to a shrink, but Kenny had a way of tweaking his rearview mirror just slightly, and his less-than-perfect memories became really, REALLY funny. I remember walking around one summer afternoon with Kenny, Mike and some friends at the Orange Circle. He was telling us the story about his Dad, a letter to Nasa, and a monkey, and we stopped traffic in the middle of the street because we were laughing so hard we couldn't walk. This was just one of the many, many "Kenny" stories he shared with us. He was our own personal Frank McCourt, making his childhood one worth remembering and sharing and rejoicing in, memories most of us would probably try hard to forget.
Kenny, there is a hole in my heart and an empty place at my dinner table. I'll love you and miss you every single day of my life, but most of all I'll thank God that he lent you to us for as long as he did. And from now on, I, for one, will turn down the 'edit switch' in my head a little bit and try to live my life more joyfully in your memory.
Rest in peace, Kenny. And since you got there first, get us a booth.
Peg SanRoman
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