My Life with Kenny
Kenneth Wayne Farmer (1960-2023)
My Beloved Husband
____________________
by Carolyn Farmer
I met my third husband, Kenny Farmer, in 1977 when I was 16. We had just moved to Evansville, Indiana, and I enrolled for my junior year at Benjamin Bosse High School. Kenny and I were both in the jazz band, and we were friends. Not great friends, mind you, as I almost immediately hooked up with someone after moving here. But friends nonetheless.
After graduation, he went the way of finding a career as a union electrician while I myself went onto college. And that was that. When Facebook came along, though, Kenny friended me, and we had a ball catching up - through Facebook - not only remembering all the things that happened during jazz band at Bosse, but also everything that had happened the past 40 years since. And once again, that was that.
It wasn't until 2014 that we found each other once again. My second husband had filed for divorce and Kenny's second wife had left him. We were both lost and were both seriously pretty beat up. It made sense for us to get together and try to help each other through. And that's what we did. And we had a blast - not only reminiscing about our high school days but also talking through an entire lifetime of things that had happened since. We were a good match. We both loved to sing. We both loved going to church. We loved the same kind of TV shows and the same kinds of foods. We found that we had the same sense of humor. We were both Trekkies, and we watched every single Star Trek episode ever made IN ORDER. Not once but TWICE. Our chemistry together just worked.
I was working at St. Mark's Lutheran as organist and choir director at the time we got together, and it was a very good job. Kenny was going to Redeemer Lutheran, and he asked if I would quit St. Mark's and accompany him full-time to Redeemer. I had to think about it long and hard, because it was a good sum of money that I'd be walking away from. But he promised he would support me financially, and with that, I joined Kenny in the music program at Redeemer. It was magical. Honestly, it really was. Watch Kenny sing a small portion of "This Little Light of Mine" in this short clip with the Redeemer choir. I am first row, way over in the corner, in a black sweater and white pants, standing next to my dear friend, Monica Karsten.
It wasn't long after that Kenny asked me to move in with him. My daughter needed a place to call home anyway, and this was the perfect solution. Stephanie could live in the house I own with her boyfriend, and I could live with my friend, Kenny. We had become inseparable as it were, so I was glad to be able to be with him day and night. This arrangement continued for a while.
It was during this time that I wrote my third and last novel. It was also during this time that Kenny and I started The Uplifters Choir. Our goal with the choir was to sing at a nursing home at least once a month, particularly to the homes that care for the Alzheimer's patients. Kenny's mom had Alzheimer's by this time, so it was something very dear to his heart. The Uplifters Choir was a smashing success, and Kenny and I had so much fun just being with these wonderful people, going out to eat with them and singing together. (Click on photos to enlarge.)
The Uplifters sing Heaven Bound. Notice Kenny at about the 2:08 mark, and you'll see for yourself how much he loved to sing!
I was so proud that Kenny was a union electrician working out of IBEW Local Union 16. He spent most of his 38 years as an electrician at Mel-Kay Electric. I loved hearing the stories of the old days when Mel Kallenbach was the head guy, who had founded Mel-Kay Electric in 1951. Kenny always spoke with such nostalgia about how hard the "old guys" were on him as a young man. He looked forward to the days when he would be one of the "old guys." I didn't quite understand then how much his entire identity was wrapped up in being a union electrician. I understand it now, unfortunately, very well.
Kenny and I continued on with our life together, eventually marrying in 2017.
We went to the IBEW/JATC dinners - what fun!
Kenny was also very proud of the three books I had written, and he always accompanied me to all those events. He was such a great helper, setting everything up for me. Every single time.
In 2018, I decided I would like a last hurrah as an organist at a church. Concordia Lutheran Church on the north side of Evansville, at the same time, was looking for an organist. I applied, and Kenny and I started going there together. Their set-up was much different than Redeemer, in that the organist is on the same floor as the congregation and could be seen by most of the congregation. I have never been one to have a page turner, but Kenny wanted to turn my pages. So I let him. He enjoyed being seen, so he loved it. He would secretly record my playing on his phone. And everyone at Concordia absolutely loved Kenny, and we thrived there.
You can't see his face in this short video clip, but you can hear his beautiful voice. He is in the turquoise.
Before the pandemic hit, Kenny and I went to Martin County, Indiana, and spent the entire weekend with some of my cousins. It was truly a magical weekend.
And then the pandemic hit. Kenny and I were very careful, more careful than most, I think. We still got Covid together in December, 2020. He was sicker than I, but he recovered. To this day, I still cannot smell. My daughter - Kenny's bonus daughter - took care of us. She went to the store for us and made sure we had everything we needed. The price she paid was getting sick with Covid herself.
Kenny spent a lot of time with my daughter, Stephanie. He loved her fiercely and she loved him the same. He saved her 21st birthday party after having been dumped by her long-time boyfriend. He took us to Louisville, and we ate at Joe's Crab Shack. She usually came over on Sundays and spent the afternoon/evening with Kenny and I, and, after she enrolled in Ivy Tech to become a chef, she started cooking for us as well. We called it "Sunday Dinner," and Kenny looked forward to it every week.
Kenny was so proud when Stephanie graduated and became a bona fide Chef. (Note on the photo: I gained 20 pounds sitting on the couch with my husband!)
This is Stephanie's tribute tattoo in memory of the only man she called Dad. Kenny loved his big green egg, and he loved his tomato plants.
Somewhere around 2021, Kenny and I made the decision to leave Concordia, and we weren't sure where we were going to land. Of course, we wanted to go back to Redeemer, but again, we were the careful ones. We watched Redeemer on-line for a time, but then, finally, early in 2022, we went back in person. I also started to notice at this time a mental decline in my husband. He was getting confused at things that shouldn't be confusing. I would tell him a grand story with much animation, and he would answer with "OK." He had become forgetful, and, to that end, he started declining at work. His work. His 38 years as a union electrician, and he wasn't getting the job done anymore. He had become moody and was snapping at people, so much so, that they told him over the phone - and I heard it - that "nobody wants to work with you anymore." This upset him greatly.
I also asked him to change out light fixtures in the kitchen of the home I own. He couldn't do it. He was looking all over the house for the instructions on how to change the light fixtures out. A union electrician of 38 years was looking for instructions on how to change out a simple light fixture.
And then, in August 2022, Mel-Kay laid him off permanently. He just wasn't getting the job done. An estimator, for example, might tell the client that the job would take 2 days, and it was taking Kenny 5 to get it done. And they weren't very nice about it, either. It was pretty much "don't let the door hit you on the way out." And I get it. I know that a company has to make money, and that the estimates have to be correct or they'll lose credibility. Believe me, I get it. But how about this? Thanks for 38 years. We're having a retirement party for you on Wednesday after work. We'll provide all the food. And here's an engraved watch! A huge thank you and shout out for 38 years of service! Happy retirement, Kenny! You deserve it! How about that? There was nothing. It was "Here's your final check. Goodbye."
Kenny was devastated. He talked for three weeks on the phone to anyone who would listen about how wronged he had been. And then an offer to work for the city came through! All was saved! Or so it seemed for a little while. Kenny, however, was unable to pass the physical. And then, his psoriasis came back with a vengeance, and the doctor seemingly could not help him to get rid of it. He was doing light therapy, and all it was doing was burning his skin. He went to see our nurse practitioner, and I'm kicking myself to this day for not going with him, but he didn't like me going to the doctor with him. I have no idea what happened at that appointment, but nothing was done to help. Kenny was a very good actor, though. If he wanted her to think that nothing was wrong, he could make her think that. With great ease.
But more than that, Kenny was drinking. A lot. In the mornings, he had started to pour glasses of wine, and sat on the couch all the day long, watching TV. This started occurring on a daily basis. From the time he got up in the morning to the time he went to bed, he would drink. Even in the middle of the night, I might get up to pee, and there he was, sitting on the couch, drinking.
Let me clarify, since I was told after his death that Kenny didn't drink wine but only beer. (I was also told that he didn't drink.) I'm a wine drinker. I love wine, and I don't like beer. Kenny and I would have a few glasses of wine together before bed, and so, he became a wine drinker. But this was different. He began to drink so much that he was drunk all day long. He would nap, and then get up and drink some more. He stopped eating. He stopped going out, except to buy more wine. He stopped doing anything except going to church. He always wanted to go to church, even though he could hardly muster the energy to even shower. I tried to make his favorite foods, but he just wasn't interested. I bought an RV hoping we could travel together since he was forced to retire. He was excited about it at first, but when it came time to actually doing the travel, he wasn't interested.
I pleaded with him. I begged. And then, when that didn't work to get him off the couch, I decided that I would be the best wife I could possibly be under the circumstances and just love him the best I could, take care of him best I could, and to be kind no matter what. Even when he was so intoxicated, he was unable to get off the floor. And Kenny was fairly heavy. There certainly was no way I would ever be able to get that much dead weight off the floor. I would have to wait for him to sober up enough to get himself up. Besides, he was combative anytime I did try to help.
I started sitting down with him everyday in the afternoon and watching TV with him on the couch until it was time for bed. We watched the entire One Chicago series from the beginning, and I believe that's saying something! We watched Jeopardy on a daily basis. And Yellowstone. And Shark Tank. And he absolutely loved watching Pawn Stars. He was so looking forward to the third season of "Picard." I would tell him every morning what time I would be able to sit down with him and watch TV that particular day. And when that time came, he would holler to me saying, "Let's get to watching!"
And that's what we did every afternoon and every evening for months until the day I was forced to call an ambulance. He didn't want to go in the ambulance, either. He was very combative, yelling and resisting, that the paramedics had to restrain him. They were, at least, nice about it.
At first, when St. Vincent life-flighted Kenny to Louisville, I was hopeful that I would bring him home. After a few days, I realized the man I would bring home was going to be mentally deficient. I was ready and willing to take care of him no matter what. But after three weeks with no improvement whatsoever, the doctor told me they wanted to put him back on the ventilator for the third time, which was going to lead to a tracheotomy, and that he would never be able to eat again. Because the fluids kept building up in his lungs, they needed to continually suction the fluids off, which was obviously quite painful for Kenny. The nurse had to put the suction pretty far down his throat, and his eyes would get so big every time they did it - once every few hours. He would look at me with those eyes, and I felt like he was asking for help to make it stop. He had become nonverbal by this time, and the way he communicated with me was with his eyes. They continued to poke and prod him, pricking his fingers, trying to find ways to get blood from veins that kept collapsing. At one point, they came in and put leads all over his head, looking for signs of a stroke. I finally said no more. Hospice wholeheartedly agreed with me. It was hospice, with my permission, who took him off all the machines, and we allowed him to die with dignity.
The doctors were unsure of what was wrong with him. They knew his condition was caused by excessive alcohol consumption - sometimes Kenny would drink an entire box of wine in a single day - 170 ounces of alcohol. But exactly what was wrong, they were unsure. And I'm pretty sure that is consistent with a patient who has drank way too much alcohol for way too long. I was told time and time again, usually in amazement, about how full he was of alcohol when he was first admitted.
Early in his hospitalization, he had actually been taken out of the ICU and put onto a regular floor, but that only lasted a few hours. The doctors believed that the stress of what he was going through caused him to have a stroke, maybe even a series of strokes, but they could not confirm it. He was quickly taken back to the ICU after that, and that is where he would die, even though I begged them to let me bring him home. The two-hour drive, even in an ambulance, they said, would just be too hard on him.
I'm not sure exactly how relationships work in heaven, but Jesus did say that at the resurrection, people will not marry. I have made the decision, however, that I will not remarry. And when my last breath here on earth occurs, I do want to see Jesus. But I also am looking forward to being with Kenny again, singing together once more with my husband and definitely going to church together.
Kenny's last words to me were, "I will never leave you." He said those words to me right before he had the probable stroke that left him unable to speak ever again. And he was right. Kenny is still in my heart, and the memories I have of him will continue to be with me until the day I see him again.
© 2023 by December Moonlight Publishing, LLC
