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Exactly two weeks before he passed away, I had the honor of staying overnight in the hospital with my dad, Ed Kennedy, after he had undergone a procedure.
Never at a loss for words, he stayed awake most of that night chatting with me.
As one conversation led to another, he reached a crescendo as the sun rose over Manhattan, telling me, in great detail, how to shine shoes. He described the wiping, the buffing and the polishing as if I had never seen him do any of this. I had, countless times.
He then swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat straight up, making sure I was paying strict attention. He informed me that the most important part of shoe-shining occurred by lighting matches and placing them just close enough to the leather to enhance the luster, bring out the shine and ensure a job well done.
Once he finished, he looked at me as the room slowly brightened, laughed out loud and said, “I have no idea what made me tell you that story!”
Throughout the 1960’s and 1970’s, my dad moonlighted as a limousine driver in NYC.
His territory was the theater district and it was not unusual for him to give rides to famous people like Anne Bancroft or Joe Cocker or Tony Randall.
Eventually, due to his charm, these very people would ask for him specifically. Miss Bancroft even insisted upon sitting up front with him and called him “Eddie.”
And during one eight month period in the mid ‘80’s, he lined a shelf with 8 identical clocks that his bank awarded him as their “favorite customer of the month.”
His appeal reached from celebrities to ordinary folk. As Rudyard Kipling wrote ‘he could walk with kings but not lose the common touch.’
My dad was the eldest of four children of a NYC fireman and his wife, both Irish immigrants. He attended the seminary but finished his education at St. John’s University and went into sales for United Air Lines. He raised two daughters and two sons and stayed married to the same woman, our mom for 40 years.
It was our mom, Peggy Clawsey, who first introduced him, a born and bred Bronx boy, to the ‘wilds’ of Hawley.
That was close to 60 years ago when it took twice as long to get here from NYC and there was half as much to do. But my dad reveled in every aspect of his beloved ‘country’ time — swimming in the Lackawaxen, the swinging bridges, the fresh(er) air, the antique shops, the ‘Bambi’s’ he delighted in counting with his kids and his grandkids.
Eventually, both my parents retired and they split their time between the Bronx and Hawley.
Unfortunately, my mom passed away before really getting to enjoy their house on ‘Irish Hill.’
My dad never skipped a beat and continued to make the trip back and forth until deciding, in 2004, that Hawley was where he’d permanently ‘hang’ his hat.
He joined the Wayne Choraliers, the Emergency Management of Palmyra Township and undertook the duties of the Palmyra Township supervisor. He was on the board of Hawley’s sewer authority and taught religion to 5th graders at St. Joseph’s in White Mills. He accomplished all these things while in his late 70’s and early 80’s.
Besides serving in the army during the Korean War, my dad was always civic minded and a great volunteer.
He coached little league back in the Bronx and served on community neighborhood groups. He led by example and his primary example was one of great dignity and good cheer.
He was both encouraged by and encouraging of, others. During his final year of life, he faced his cancer head-on and told waiting rooms full of other patients to consider chemo the ‘elixir of life’ because it was being used to help them all get better. Then he’d shoot them a grin and throw his catch-phrase at them — ‘Keep smilin’!
My dad kept telling my sister, my brothers and me how lucky he was. He thought it extraordinary to have kids who couldn’t get enough of him, who said ‘I love you’ to him, who hung on his every word — those spoken and the thousands he wrote in the many letters he sent us.
Maybe he didn’t realize that he had buffed and polished our lives with his care and that his love lit up our hearts so that they will shine with his luster for the rest of our days. A job very well done, indeed.
Exactly two weeks before he passed away, I had the honor of staying overnight in the hospital with my dad, Ed Kennedy, after he had undergone a procedure.
Never at a loss for words, he stayed awake most of that night chatting with me.
As one conversation led to another, he reached a crescendo as the sun rose over Manhattan, telling me, in great detail, how to shine shoes. He described the wiping, the buffing and the polishing as if I had never seen him do any of this. I had, countless times.
He then swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat straight up, making sure I was paying strict attention. He informed me that the most important part of shoe-shining occurred by lighting matches and placing them just close enough to the leather to enhance the luster, bring out the shine and ensure a job well done.
Once he finished, he looked at me as the room slowly brightened, laughed out loud and said, “I have no idea what made me tell you that story!”
Throughout the 1960’s and 1970’s, my dad moonlighted as a limousine driver in NYC.
His territory was the theater district and it was not unusual for him to give rides to famous people like Anne Bancroft or Joe Cocker or Tony Randall.
Eventually, due to his charm, these very people would ask for him specifically. Miss Bancroft even insisted upon sitting up front with him and called him “Eddie.”
And during one eight month period in the mid ‘80’s, he lined a shelf with 8 identical clocks that his bank awarded him as their “favorite customer of the month.”
His appeal reached from celebrities to ordinary folk. As Rudyard Kipling wrote ‘he could walk with kings but not lose the common touch.’
My dad was the eldest of four children of a NYC fireman and his wife, both Irish immigrants. He attended the seminary but finished his education at St. John’s University and went into sales for United Air Lines. He raised two daughters and two sons and stayed married to the same woman, our mom for 40 years.
It was our mom, Peggy Clawsey, who first introduced him, a born and bred Bronx boy, to the ‘wilds’ of Hawley.
That was close to 60 years ago when it took twice as long to get here from NYC and there was half as much to do. But my dad reveled in every aspect of his beloved ‘country’ time — swimming in the Lackawaxen, the swinging bridges, the fresh(er) air, the antique shops, the ‘Bambi’s’ he delighted in counting with his kids and his grandkids.
Eventually, both my parents retired and they split their time between the Bronx and Hawley.
Unfortunately, my mom passed away before really getting to enjoy their house on ‘Irish Hill.’
My dad never skipped a beat and continued to make the trip back and forth until deciding, in 2004, that Hawley was where he’d permanently ‘hang’ his hat.
He joined the Wayne Choraliers, the Emergency Management of Palmyra Township and undertook the duties of the Palmyra Township supervisor. He was on the board of Hawley’s sewer authority and taught religion to 5th graders at St. Joseph’s in White Mills. He accomplished all these things while in his late 70’s and early 80’s.
Besides serving in the army during the Korean War, my dad was always civic minded and a great volunteer.
He coached little league back in the Bronx and served on community neighborhood groups. He led by example and his primary example was one of great dignity and good cheer.
He was both encouraged by and encouraging of, others. During his final year of life, he faced his cancer head-on and told waiting rooms full of other patients to consider chemo the ‘elixir of life’ because it was being used to help them all get better. Then he’d shoot them a grin and throw his catch-phrase at them — ‘Keep smilin’!
My dad kept telling my sister, my brothers and me how lucky he was. He thought it extraordinary to have kids who couldn’t get enough of him, who said ‘I love you’ to him, who hung on his every word — those spoken and the thousands he wrote in the many letters he sent us.
Maybe he didn’t realize that he had buffed and polished our lives with his care and that his love lit up our hearts so that they will shine with his luster for the rest of our days. A job very well done, indeed.
