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I knew him as Uncle Kenny, my dad always considered him a brother, and it's no wonder since they grew up together and shared so much. It's hard to know where I should start with Kenny, I don't know whether his art, or his humor come to mind first, but I'd have to say his humor.
He reminded me a lot of one of my favorite authors Hunter S. Thompson, a strange, highly intelligent, yet misunderstood weirdo that had a penchant for offending others just to get a little amusement for himself. I grew up with hilarious stories of a bizarre nature. If Kenny was involved, I always knew I wanted to stick around to hear of his shenanigans.
Two stories that still come to mind instantly, are one of a biker bar, the Barbary Coast, and a local party. The Barbary Coast story involved one of Kenny's more unruly moments, in which he accompanied my mom and dad to the bar, sat down, surrounded by bikers, and took it upon himself to stand up with one leg on the bar, and his other planted on his chair, yelling very loudly, "I hate ikers!"
All the patrons glared at him accordingly, but dismissed it after a few quiet minutes following the outburst. My mom and dad ducked their heads and tried to continue their evening peacefully. Kenny had sat back down and chuckled to himself for those quiet moments, nobody was quite sure why he was so amused, and no one asked.
The local party story was just as strange, but it went along with what seemed to be Kenny's sense of humor.
My parents had thrown a party at their house in Sandy, as they often did for their friends. It started off as a relatively calm party, with most people congregating in the basement where there was a built in bar and pool table. There were only about four people upstairs in the kitchen and front room, but Kenny was one of them.
I can't recall the name of this particular friend of my parents, but he was a mutual friend of Kenny's, or at least a friendly acquaintance. He was apparently known to be somewhat of a "macho-man," never wanting to be seen as girly, and very adamantly avoided "gay jokes." Knowing this, Kenny approached this man as he was sitting in the front room, sat down on his lap, wrapped his arms around his neck and said: "Give us a kiss."
The man promptly yelled "Get off of me!" and stood up to throw Kenny into my parents' very large fireplace. In the meantime, one of the women upstairs in the kitchen had ran to the basement to tell my parents that there was a fight upstairs, and that Kenny was involved. My parents ran upstairs in disbelief, only to find Kenny sitting in the fireplace laughing hysterically. It was later discovered that Kenny was not even drunk at this point.
So those were some of my favorite stories I grew up hearing. My own funny story is much shorter, but I'd like to share it anyway, since this seems the best time to do it. It was very seldom that Kenny visited when I was growing up, but whenever he did, I was always excited, given that he would always come bearing strange and sometimes disgusting gifts for my sister and I. Including, but not limited to: squishy brain toys with fake blood in them, boxes of fake bugs, joke dog poop, fart-inducing gum, bar soap that would make one's hands dirty, etc.
I was a strange child, and I loved his strange sense of humor. Thus, one day when I was about 5-years-old, he brought over a can of joke spam that said "Armadillo meat" on it. The can label went into great detail about what kind of truck ran over the armadillo, and what the meat was spiced with. He handed it to me, before even greeting my mom, and said "Here, tell your mom to make you a sandwich outa this." I still have that can somewhere in my room, because it was so funny I could never get rid of it.
Lastly, I'll mention his art, and what it's meant to me over the years. He made many different sculptures that he'd given to my parents, a belt buckle, a mirror, a coffee cup, etc., and I could never ignore them. We used to keep one or two of them in the Halloween box that we would take out in time for decorations in October.
As I got older, I found that Halloween was my favorite holiday, and I also had a love for ceramic sculpture. I asked my dad if I could keep Kenny's art pieces in my room, and I still have them there, I look at them every day. He inspired me to make strange creations of my own, to think outside of the box and indulge my strange,
creepy side, in order to get great creations. He was an amazing artist, I would love to have a smidgen of his talent, and I still push myself for that.
I've been writing a fantasy/horror novel for quite some time, and finished it about two days ago, my plan is to dedicate it to him, since after all, he's inspired me so much over the years, and I never even realized it.
I simply wanted to show my love for Uncle Kenny, I respected him as an artist and as a comedian. He was one of the funniest, strangest people I've ever known. I attached some pictures of my sculptures that all had a lot of inspiration from looking at his sculptures. They remind me of him now.
By Tiersa Cosaert
He reminded me a lot of one of my favorite authors Hunter S. Thompson, a strange, highly intelligent, yet misunderstood weirdo that had a penchant for offending others just to get a little amusement for himself. I grew up with hilarious stories of a bizarre nature. If Kenny was involved, I always knew I wanted to stick around to hear of his shenanigans.
Two stories that still come to mind instantly, are one of a biker bar, the Barbary Coast, and a local party. The Barbary Coast story involved one of Kenny's more unruly moments, in which he accompanied my mom and dad to the bar, sat down, surrounded by bikers, and took it upon himself to stand up with one leg on the bar, and his other planted on his chair, yelling very loudly, "I hate ikers!"
All the patrons glared at him accordingly, but dismissed it after a few quiet minutes following the outburst. My mom and dad ducked their heads and tried to continue their evening peacefully. Kenny had sat back down and chuckled to himself for those quiet moments, nobody was quite sure why he was so amused, and no one asked.
The local party story was just as strange, but it went along with what seemed to be Kenny's sense of humor.
My parents had thrown a party at their house in Sandy, as they often did for their friends. It started off as a relatively calm party, with most people congregating in the basement where there was a built in bar and pool table. There were only about four people upstairs in the kitchen and front room, but Kenny was one of them.
I can't recall the name of this particular friend of my parents, but he was a mutual friend of Kenny's, or at least a friendly acquaintance. He was apparently known to be somewhat of a "macho-man," never wanting to be seen as girly, and very adamantly avoided "gay jokes." Knowing this, Kenny approached this man as he was sitting in the front room, sat down on his lap, wrapped his arms around his neck and said: "Give us a kiss."
The man promptly yelled "Get off of me!" and stood up to throw Kenny into my parents' very large fireplace. In the meantime, one of the women upstairs in the kitchen had ran to the basement to tell my parents that there was a fight upstairs, and that Kenny was involved. My parents ran upstairs in disbelief, only to find Kenny sitting in the fireplace laughing hysterically. It was later discovered that Kenny was not even drunk at this point.
So those were some of my favorite stories I grew up hearing. My own funny story is much shorter, but I'd like to share it anyway, since this seems the best time to do it. It was very seldom that Kenny visited when I was growing up, but whenever he did, I was always excited, given that he would always come bearing strange and sometimes disgusting gifts for my sister and I. Including, but not limited to: squishy brain toys with fake blood in them, boxes of fake bugs, joke dog poop, fart-inducing gum, bar soap that would make one's hands dirty, etc.
I was a strange child, and I loved his strange sense of humor. Thus, one day when I was about 5-years-old, he brought over a can of joke spam that said "Armadillo meat" on it. The can label went into great detail about what kind of truck ran over the armadillo, and what the meat was spiced with. He handed it to me, before even greeting my mom, and said "Here, tell your mom to make you a sandwich outa this." I still have that can somewhere in my room, because it was so funny I could never get rid of it.
Lastly, I'll mention his art, and what it's meant to me over the years. He made many different sculptures that he'd given to my parents, a belt buckle, a mirror, a coffee cup, etc., and I could never ignore them. We used to keep one or two of them in the Halloween box that we would take out in time for decorations in October.
As I got older, I found that Halloween was my favorite holiday, and I also had a love for ceramic sculpture. I asked my dad if I could keep Kenny's art pieces in my room, and I still have them there, I look at them every day. He inspired me to make strange creations of my own, to think outside of the box and indulge my strange,
creepy side, in order to get great creations. He was an amazing artist, I would love to have a smidgen of his talent, and I still push myself for that.
I've been writing a fantasy/horror novel for quite some time, and finished it about two days ago, my plan is to dedicate it to him, since after all, he's inspired me so much over the years, and I never even realized it.
I simply wanted to show my love for Uncle Kenny, I respected him as an artist and as a comedian. He was one of the funniest, strangest people I've ever known. I attached some pictures of my sculptures that all had a lot of inspiration from looking at his sculptures. They remind me of him now.
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I am so glad you shared these memories with us. He brought so much delight to so many of us :)
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