Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Eulogy for Kenneth Hawkins
12-6-2010
Purcell, OK


I was honored by the Hawkins family, who have asked that I say a few words today about Kenneth.

As painful as this is, it as been said, A man’s dying is more the survivor’s affair than his own. Today Kenneth is at rest, free from the pain of this life and this human condition.

It has also been said that…. somebody should tell us, right at the start of our lives, that we are dying. Then we might live life to the limit, every minute of every day. There are only so many tomorrows.

Kenneth must have read these words when he was a young man, because that is how he lived, always enthusiastic, always content.

These last few days are the days we’ve dreaded for several months. Kenneth has fought the good fight; his race has been won. He lived his life as a man to be admired, a life of example for other men to aspire.

Kenneth was, simply put, a hero to his wife, his daughters and his granddaughter. But Doris, and you three girls, he was a hero to many. He is not yours alone. He was a hero to your friends, to grown men, to a general, and years ago through to this day, to a young man from across the river.

He may be gone forever from this earth, but his memory, his legacy will remain as testimony to his life with us. This legacy survives in the lives of his family and in the hearts of those of us fortunate enough to have known him.

It is a legacy of selflessness and service to others, of gentleness and kindness. His life is a clear example of how one lives with unwavering integrity and the highest of character, and is a testimony to the value of family and friendship. To visit with Kenneth was to think you were his best friend, because he made everyone feel like they were. Selfishly, I have always thought I held a special place in his life, but when you visit with all these friends that have gathered, it becomes obvious that we all feel that way. We all feel like we were somehow special to him. But that’s just his way. He cherished his relationship with all of you.

Kenneth is of the greatest generation. I only recently learned that Kenneth is a veteran of the Korean War. You know, I’ve known him a long time, and spent enough time around him that it’s something I should have known. But, he was like that. He never talked about himself. He never complained of his problems, although I’m sure he had them. But he never talked about him. He was much more interested in celebrating your life, your accomplishments, your happiness.

He lived his life with the unspoken spirit of “Well done is better than well said.” He never discussed his accomplishments.

He worked hard, in the background and without publicity. He never asked anyone for a reward, never asked anyone to sing his praises. In fact, he never asked anything of anyone. Although many knew him, he was an anonymous pillar of this community. He died quietly at home, and without fanfare.

I believe that old saying, the one that says “It takes a village to raise a child”. When I consider all those throughout my life who have influenced me - those folks in my “village”, there are some close friends who are pretty important people in it – parents and grandparents, award winning educators, college deans and presidents, physicians, and community leaders. But it my village, none were more important than this simple man from this small town, whose life and friendship have directed me as much as anyone. His words - always direct, encouraging, optimistic, and supportive. He’s the same man in the village who made sure everyone got to cheerleading or basketball practice, or a football game. He made sure his neighbors who might not have the means to get out of town had a Christmas display. You know, when she was young, Donna and her friends could easily be called tom-boys, and they had tom-boy stuff to do, mini-bikes to ride. Kenneth was their short order mechanic. He wouldn’t let them sit idle very long. Whatever the girls needed, he was their man.

Yes, Kenneth is in my village, and in my village, he’s Andy Taylor. If you’re here today, and didn’t know Kenneth, just watch the old Andy Griffith show, and you’ll see who they must have patterned his character after.

Just like his special spot in the church pew, probably worn thin by now, and his chair at home, in my village, he’s got a spot at the front gate with that big smile and firm handshake.

I first met Kenneth and Doris when, during my senior year of high school, I started dating his daughter Debbie. I spent a fair amount of time with the family and was afforded much more respect than was deserved. From the very beginning Kenneth and Doris treated me like I deserved their confidence, although I had provided nothing in the way of evidence they should do so. It’s just the way they are.

The reason I have had such a great and sustained relationship with Kenneth and his family, is because of their tolerance, patience and forgiveness.

I could never say enough about how much integrity, how much class, how much kindness with which Kenneth lived his life. So I’ll not start there.

In the interest of fairness, I’ve got to tell you the other side of Kenneth. I doubt that he made many mistakes in his lifetime, but I witnessed at least one of them.

I know Kenneth must have occasionally taken leave of his senses, because I saw him do it once. He had on old restored 1950-something model blaze OSU orange classic step-side pick-up truck. His good sense must have left him the day he gave me the keys.

At the time, I was sure he held some passion for that old truck, although I couldn’t have appreciated it, but I knew I had better take great care with it. But looking back, I should have been much more afraid of how I treated the passenger, one of his most precious possessions, his daughter. But as a teenager, I was more worried about that truck.

But, one particular night, and I don’t recall that we had permission to take it for a joy ride, I wanted to show off a bit, as young boys are prone to do, so I drove Debbie and the truck out east of Lexington to some pasture land my dad owned. When we got there, I decided we’d do some “off-roading” and struck out around a pond dam. Of course, it was dark, no lights out there in the country, so it was perfect for a little thrill-seeking. The trip was impressive, I thought, until we were just about all the way around and came to the pond’s spillway. Recent rains had softened the ground, a fact that, in my zeal, I had not considered. In retrospect, the lack of mud tires probably was my most significant oversight. You guessed right. I drove it into the mud, right up to the axles.

So, there we were, late at night, miles from her home, and too close to my mine, where I wasn’t about to go, middle of the night, in a classic old vehicle that my girlfriend’s father had obviously spent hours restoring and babying, stuck in the mud… in a field… in the dark.

I ran through my options, which didn’t take long, because there were few, and in finally choosing who to wake, picked someone other than either of the two fathers, someone who might be a little less passionate about the situation. Doc Taylor lived about a mile down the road, and I don’t remember if I walked the mile to his house or called from another neighbor’s, but I awakened him from his sleep, and he came down and pulled us out. We went straight home - to her house not mine, as I was not about to try to explain this to my dad.

Now Doris, all these years later, I can assure you that there was no real cause for concern, as I am sure that once back at your house I slowed down enough for Debbie to safely leap from the truck as I dropped her off.

Kenneth surely knew, at some point, what had happened, but… he never said a word. He certainly didn’t say anything that night, because I wasn’t going to give him the chance. Looking back, though, I don’t recall him offering it again.

A couple of years later, I was in college and the air conditioner had gone out in my car. I knew I didn’t have the $700 to fix it so I decided I would just look for another car. When Kenneth found out I was looking, he looked in the newspaper and located a couple of cars he thought I should look at, then took me to look at one. He even lined up the financing at a bank in Newcastle. I failed to tell him I hadn’t discussed this with my dad, so we bought it, signed the papers, and I’m sure he had vouched for me for the loan. My dad wasn’t too thrilled about it, but I don’t think I ever told Kenneth that I’d never discussed it with the guy who was going to pay for it. I never told him that we were spending my dad’s money, and without his consent. Kenneth just was about doing anything he could to help. He had solved the problem before I even let my dad know there was a problem. That’s how Kenneth solved things.

The summer after my first year in college, on the 4th of July I took Debbie to Veteran’s lake in Sulpher with some friends and we were involved in a boat wreck, and a pretty serious one at that. Debbie ended up with some trauma to her jaw and actually permanently damaged two fingers on one hand. She spent a few days in the hospital. You can imagine the position of responsibility in which he and Doris must have held me, but not once did he chastise me, not once did he tell me of the mistakes I made. I know he must have wanted to. I guess he figured I’d learned a lesson, but he never sat me down to let me know the fear I must have caused him, Doris and his precious daughter. He just was not the type to satisfy any need to blame me. He always carried out his affairs with the ultimate in class and dignity.

There were so many times he could have jerked a knot in my tail over poor decisions he clearly could see that I made, but he never did. He was always just a consummate gentleman.

Some children miss out on their fathers because they decide to be physically absent, choosing work or hobbies over spending time with their kids. Other parents are emotionally absent, not letting their children see that they even have emotions, hiding who they really are, maybe because they are embarrassed by their feelings, or afraid that real men don't cry, or hug, or kiss their children.

With Kenneth, I am sure his family wanted for nothing. He was always there for them in both body and spirit, showing them by his living example what it was like to be a father and a husband, that it was possible for a man to show tenderness, to be unafraid of open affection with his children, and to be a loving husband. He was selfless with us all.

It is impossible to speak of him without also speaking of Doris, because they were one. They seemed to always be together, and together they showed us all what true love was like, taught us all what a marriage should be. Kenneth loved his family more than he loved himself. When it became too hard for him to live on, the pain that was the greatest for him was never his own, but rather the pain that he saw in those that loved him.

At tragic times like these, so many families are worried about all the things left unsaid because they were not brave enough to say them and they ran out of time.


Kenneth’s family and friends were lucky, because of his openness, in that he always let his loved ones know how he felt about them. There are no regrets about that, his willingness, his understanding and his love.

But the most important thing I can say about Kenneth is that through his relationships he was able to spare them the void that so many people have in their lives.

The world is filled with adult’s who never heard their father say “I love you,” who wonder throughout their lives whether they were loved. Kenneth spared his loved ones from this wound that many walk around with. No one that knew Kenneth ever doubted how he felt about them. That is the greatest gift that a father can give to his children.

He was a hard man to dislike. In fact, I know no one who didn’t love Kenneth. I know it's common at a funeral to only remember the good things, to omit the things that would embarrass someone. In Kenneth's case, the most remarkable thing that can be said is that there is no bad.

Recently, however, close to the end of his life, I was witness to the harshest thing I ever heard Kenneth say. My wife and I were visiting one day and he was bed-ridden, for the most part, but at one point he wanting to move from the hospital bed he was resting in, to his favorite chair. If you’ve been to his house you know which one it is. Doris, with all the sweetness she could muster, tried to dissuade him from doing so, and when it was obvious she wasn’t going to comply, Kenneth said in a voice almost too soft to hear, “you’re not calling the shots here.”

To Debbie, Donna and Cammy, you all have no excuses. Your dad was the best, and he gave you the genes to be outstanding people - the desire to help those around you. But I know you all well, and you are just like him - kind, considerate, outstanding people. He was proud of you and he talked glowingly about you all.

Ronnie and Mike…. Sorry to tell you, but you’ve got shoes to fill that are, I’m afraid, impossible to fill. But you’re both good men. And Kenneth bragged on you two every time I talked with him. He was proud of the men that you are.

Two particular things I’ll remember about Kenneth. His hands and his smile. As you know, Kenneth is one of those men who could do anything. One of his passions was working with his hands. They were big and strong. A firm handshake. And his smile was always the same. Big and sincere.

And lastly, the thing for which I’ll always strive, is to emulate his undying enthusiasm. It was with him until the end.

Today, our hearts are broken. Kenneth is going to a place we are not ready for. He’ll go there alone, but he was ready. We will all join him some day, and we will look forward to that time when we can have another visit.

And finally, I think what I’ll miss most, is walking to the front of my office and seeing Doris, his lovely bride, and Kenneth with that big, warm smile and hearty handshake.

I will never forget it….

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