Father's Day

Keith and John are two very similar yet, dissimilar father's.  One is my oldest brother, the other a very good friend.  They do not get the opportunity to celebrate Father's Day anymore.  

My brother Keith lost his only child, Kenton, three years ago.  Kenton was 20 years old, a Junior at UC Santa Cruz, and a young man from all reports, who was really getting his life together.  He did not really know if he wanted to go to school.  He was very bright, very personable and without a clear path in life out of high school.  He had interned for Thrasher magazine as a high schooler, taken up photography and had a love of nature.  He lost his life the first day of classes doing something that he usually would have never done.

Kenton hated cars.  He skated everywhere and had the tickets to prove it.  He was dropping of his girlfriend on campus, he had walked with her there and preparing to skate back to the house he had a room at.  he had been offered cars by his father and mother, declining on every occasion.  Kenton was looking forward to the term starting.  He had just taken part in a summer course that was part naturalist, part biology, and all about pulling out of society (as we all know it) and finding a connection with the soul.  He had accomplished that.  He had purpose and drive.  

One of Kenton's buddies saw him in near the parking lot on campus and offered him ride back up the hill.  Kenton accepted something he never would have before.  As they were going back to the house, the driver lost control of the car and Kenton's side of the car was T-boned by on coming traffic.  He was worked on furiously, he was helicoptered out to the hospital.  

My brother was in New York on vacation.  He received all of this information through cell phone calls and campus representatives and family members.  He and his wife canceled everything, found help in an airline (thanks Jet Blue), and rushed back.  When they got to Kenton it was not a matter of would he make it.  It was well beyond that at this time.  It was how would he help others.  My brother and his ex-wife, Kenton's mother, made the decision to donate everything that could be harvested.  

My brother still mourns this day, just like he mourns everyday about the loss of his child.  he knows that there are literally pieces of Kenton that are alive today.  He has the chance to celebrate that part of life each day.  I can't think of anything that my brother would not of done for his son.  

I met John Boles when I was about 10 years old.  His brother Jeff and my brother Kurt, played water polo together and hung out as friends.  Naturally, we were the little brothers that had to be watched so we were drug along.  John and I ended up playing water polo together as well.  5 years of high school and summers that were some of the happiest days we saw together.

John was not the prototypical athlete.  He was small, not particularly fast, but he always wanted to win.  It never mattered what was played John wanted to win.  John became one of the most prolific scorers in our high school's history.  He went to community college to continue playing ball and hoping to land a scholarship.  

John was not the best student in the world, but he made do.  What John really did well was talk to people.  He always had a story, a joke, something that took the edge of a room.  He simply loved to have a good time.  John managed to get himself a scholarship chance at Hawaii-Pacific, and left the mainland to play ball.  

When John got back he was still the same.  Always joking, always playing, always wanting to win.  We were at a party at his apartment in Sacramento where he and his fiancee were living at the time.  Krista and I had been married 3 years, and we had started to get the adult part of life rolling.  John pulled me aside and asked me how did I know that Krista was the one?  I told him that she just got me, she understood everything.  He told me that night that he knew Paige was the one for the exact same reason.

John and I had grown apart since that time.  We went to the wedding.  Saw each other once or twice a year.  Then we moved back to Orange County.  I had not seen John in years when I got a chat message from him on Facebook.  Still same old John.  A story, a joke, wanting to win.  He had a family he adored.  Sons he couldn't spend enough time with.  Kids he was grooming to be just like their old man.  A couple weeks later I would get a different message on Facebook.

John was killed in a traffic accident.  He was making a sales call, out on the road.  A traffic situation happened and John never had a chance to get away.  Game over.  No jokes, no story.  He left behind a wife and two kids.  The service for John was enormous.  There were more people present for this event than our 20th reunion which had happened just months before.  People came from all over the nation to pay respects and share stories about John.  

We were somber that day.  We didn't know what to do.  John was the first of our group who died.  You could tell that all of us were taking stock in our lives at that moment.  Looking at our spouses a little differently, looking at our kids a little differently.  Setting up appointments about our health, about our retirements, about things that we never thought we would have to tackle at this part of life. 

As you celebrate Father's Day, or any day please remember the stories of these two men.  Remember that they would do anything for those that they love and that we can all do the same for those we love and for those we do not even know.