Memories of Kenny

My Life with Kenny

Kenneth Wayne Farmer  (1960-2023)

Memories of Kenny
____________________ 

by Carolyn Farmer

It was very early in our dating - I'm guessing it was the summer of 2014. Although we had known each other since high school, we didn't start dating until March, 2014, after each of us had gone through painful divorces. But together, we overcame, kept each other company, and became each other's sounding boards.

I was working at St. Mark's Evangelical Lutheran Church at the time as organist and choir director. Kenny and I had volunteered to work that summer at Vacation Bible School (VBS). As a smaller congregation, our VBS was held in the evenings, most likely somewhere between 6:00 to 8:00. So Kenny and I firstly went out for dinner. For whatever reason, I decided to leave a review for the restaurant, and I started it with saying that I was having dinner with my best friend. Kenny picked up on this and did not let it go. Until we married a few years later, he always referred to me as his best friend.

After our dinner, we arrived at St. Mark's, and we went to work at our station, which was held on the newly renovated patio. Because our station was outside, we were in charge of the exploding diet coke bottle trick. This is where you put Mentos into the diet coke bottle, and it becomes a geyser. The kids loved it and so did Kenny. He was having a blast, and I was having fun watching him having a blast. He was very good with the kids.

I didn't have anything to do with planning VBS or the activities. Still, when the pastor saw what we were doing on "his" newly renovated patio, he also - like the coke bottle - erupted. 

One of the things that attracted Kenny to me - I'm sure of it - was my love of Star Trek. I was a huge trekkie growing up, but I had only ever watched The Original Series. He was excited to introduce me to all the newer Star Trek spin-offs. My favorite was Star Trek: Voyager. Kate Mulgrew and Jeri Ryan? Get out of here! We were so excited to watch everything together. In a previous blog, I had written that Kenny and I had watched every Star Trek ever made in order twice, and that is true. But we also watched it the first time out of order, starting with The Next Generation.

One of the first stories I told Kenny was about how I went through a phase, as a child, of trying to talk with a Russian accent like Lt. Chekov in The Original Series. My mother once asked me if we needed anything at the store, and I told her we needed bread. She asked what kind of bread to get, so I said - very confidently - Vonder Bread! And she was like, "What?" Kenny thought that story was hilarious. He also was very impressed that I could play on the piano by ear the song that Spock sang in the episode entitled Subspace Rhapsody.

After we were married, I decided one year to have my own birthday party, and so I invited my dear friend, Carol, along with my daughter and her fiancé to breakfast. The menu was one-sided. When my daughter arrived, she and her fiancé sat down and started to look at the menu. Kenny said to the table, "there's more options on the back of the menu," I, knowing Kenny pretty well by this time, was stoic and did not touch my menu. My daughter, however, believed him and turned her menu over and saw for herself that there was nothing on the other side. Kenny thought this was hilarious and so did Stephanie's fiancé. Strike one up for the boys!

At another time with Stephanie and Chris, the four of us were at Bob Evans for breakfast. Kenny got his usual biscuits and gravy with a side of bacon. And not just a side of bacon, but it had to be chewy bacon. We were all talking and having a good time and Kenny was munching away on his chewy bacon. Then, when that plate was empty and full of bacon grease, he poured the bacon grease into his gravy and stirred it up. Stephanie and I had the biggest, widest eyes, but Chris whispered into Stephanie's ear, "Let the man live." Then Chris turned to Kenny and said, "You now how to live, don't you?" And Kenny replied, "Yes, I do!"

Kenny was quite the character and was always just doing things. He would turn the lights off in a room if there wasn't anyone in it, even if you had just left for one moment to grab something. He had this sense when there was a light on in a room that no one was in. If you left that room, you'd come back to it in the dark. He also couldn't sort laundry to save his life. I can't tell you how many times I had to take the washcloths out of the dish towel drawer and take them to the bathroom. Or how many times he put his Deaconess Hospital pin code into our front door keypad. And he would just giggle and shake his head whenever he did this, because, of course, the Deaconess pin code didn't work at home.

He loved turning my pages when I was playing the organ or piano at church, even though I could've done it on my own just fine. I used those little post-it tabs to mark my places on the music and one Sunday, with huge grandeur, he grabbed that tab to turn my page. The tab, of course, came off, and my page didn't get turned. 

But more than anything, Kenny was good in a crisis. How many times did he swoop in and save the day? I can't count them. He loved his dogs and his tomatoes, and his big green egg. He loved to sing, and he was good at it. We spent many an evening just singing together in our living room.

It has almost been a year since he's been gone. I have done pretty well as a widow, thanks to my support groups - which consists of my friends, my family, my students, and my church. But as a memorial to my late husband, I have made a new subset for this blog called My Life with Kenny. I will remember him the best way possible by writing his stories as best as I can remember.

© 2024 by December Moonlight Publishing, LLC

My Day as a Guest at Crane Naval Base

Beautiful Martin County, Indiana

My Day as a Guest at Crane Naval Base
____________________

by Carolyn Ann Howard

Its been over ten years from the date of writing this post that I visited Crane Naval Base as their special guest. I have to confess that I didn't handle the event as I should have. My apologies to any whom I offended. Let me explain.

I spent many hours during the year of 2012 researching and writing Blood of My Ancestor. It was personal. My husband of 27 years had left me for another woman while, at the same time, I lost my good paying office job. This is the point where I went back to being a musician, a profession I never should've left to begin with. That's another story. I also had started researching my family tree and had stumbled upon my 2x grandaunt Adaline Cannon Lyon. Her story is what inspired me to write Blood of My Ancestor, because it is her story. The book is now out-of-print. In my grief, I pulled all my books after my third husband died.

But at the time of 2012, I was newly divorced and was finally working to write my first novel! This is what I had wanted to be from my youth - an author. And now, I was going to achieve that.

While researching for Blood, I ran into roadblock after roadblock. I had no idea what a controversial subject my Aunt Adaline was in her home county of Martin, Indiana. The historical society - run at that time by the "old guard" - would not let me research her life. They jammed the door of the records room shut so that I couldn't get in. They hid the coroner's statement and his report of her murder. They refused to let me look at any newspapers they might have had. I had to use Lawrence County's historical society as well as Washington, Indiana's library to get the information I needed to write the book. I learned, after I published the book, what push-back truly was, for I was highly criticized for daring to write a story that exonerated Adaline's husband, Joel Lyon, in her murder.

Something else. Adaline's original tombstone had been taken down and a new one erected. The person who did this spelled her name wrong - Adeline. I learned from Dale Carnegie's book How to Win Friends and Influence People that a person's name is the most important word to them, and that you need to get it right. That is something I've always carried with me. Not only that, this same person purchased a stone for Adaline's murderer with the caption "Come to the Hidden City." The connotation was that this murderer was in heaven and that his death was tragic, because it was his father's doing - not Arthur - that Adaline was murdered. This is the belief held by many people, but Joel did not murder his wife. His son Arthur did. I have proof, and I do now have the coroner's statement.

After I published the book, I was forced to take all the criticism and hate that came with it. I grew stronger for it. And then someone who was not offended by the book contacted me. She said, "First of all, I loved the book." This wonderful person was the wife of one of the higher-ups at Crane Naval Base. Her question was: Would I come to the naval base for a luncheon and book signing? Especially since Joel's home had been, prior to the construction of the base, behind it's gates? My answer was yes, of course!

In the meantime, I had met a man from Shoals, Indiana, named Neal Sheetz. He was an employee of Crane Naval Base and was very popular there. He was certainly popular with me. We had a whirlwind romance and married after only knowing each a little more than a month. Living with him on his 80-acre farm in Martin County was a dream come true, and he and I together wrote my second novel, Pioneer Stories. I could not have written it without him.

I don't remember a whole lot from over ten years ago, but I know the the day before the book signing, I had become ill with flu-like symptoms. It was in March, and I was pushing Vitamin C like crazy, trying to make myself well for the next day. Neal didn't understand that it was just Vitamin C, and he thought I was over-medicating. He became quite angry over it. I honestly think that he just didn't want me to go, because it was a Friday, and he was off that day. In hindsight, he could've gone with me. My Martin County friend, Marie Hawkins, was there, so I know Neal could've gone, too.

I had to get up very early the next morning. I was still sick, but I got ready anyway. The drive to Crane Naval Base took a bit longer than I thought it would. I don't know why. Neal drove it every morning and every evening, and I certainly knew how long it took him.

The security is tight at the naval base. I had to park my car off-site and was picked up by Cathy, who escorted me onto the base. This sign greeted me:

The book signing event was first, and I started my slide show. This was my offense: the slide show. I called out the man who had switched my Aunt Addie's stone with a new one, and who had spelled her her name incorrectly. I should not have done this, and I'm very sorry for it.

A lot of people who worked from Crane came to the book signing. Many of them came just to see the person Neal Sheetz was going to marry. It was me! I don't remember how many books I sold that morning, but that wasn't important to me at all. What was important was that Addie and Joel's story was being celebrated by so many people - in the very area where their story had taken place!

The details of that day are pretty sketchy in my head. It's been so long ago now, and I've been through so much more since that day. I remember it being a wonderful, wonderful day. After the book signing was the luncheon, attended by many, and then I did a presentation. I don't remember preparing for the preparation, and I don't remember what I said. It's not like me to not prepare, and surely I did, because I had slides to go with my talk. However, I also was in a new relationship that was going very fast, and I was commuting from Shoals to Evansville for work. I didn't have a lot of spare time right then. But I do remember that by the time of the luncheon, I had become well again. Was it the Vitamin C?

The best part came after the presentation, however. A select few of us, my friend Marie included, were driven from the event hall to the property where Joel and Addie had lived. Cathy had researched and was able to find the property. We also visited the cemetery where Joel was buried with his first wife, Malinda, and their son, Arthur, the murderer of my aunt Addie. It was emotional. Writing Blood of My Ancestor was emotional, and I cried over Adaline's death quite a bit. And now, here I was, where Joel and Adaline lived together. The log home with it's two box additions had been on the very property where I was standing. It was a bit overwhelming.

And then, it was over. Just like that. After our van returned to the event site, Cathy took me on a tour of the naval base and the residences. I don't think she wanted the day to be over, either. But then, around 4:00, I said my good-byes. I couldn't believe the day was over. Just like that. Just like that, I was back in my car, driving back to the farm in rural Shoals.

I don't remember Neal's reaction to the day. I think he was proud that I was his fiancé, for he knew how many people had come to see me because of him. (And perhaps a bit of time away from work!) I was just as proud of Neal, and I was happy to meet so many of his work friends. The day was certainly magical, and I would love to be able to do it again.

I wrote this blog post for my daughter. As a genealogist, author, and keeper of many people's family stories, I know that once someone has passed, they take their stories with them if they aren't written down. And so, I have written it down.

Many thanks to Crane Naval Base and its employees for giving me one of the most precious memories of my life. It was a wonderful day, and I'm very grateful for it.

All photos were taken by Crane Naval Base personnel and cleared by security. I have permission for their use in my blog posts.

© 2024 by December Moonlight Publishing, LLC