A Proud Father With His Children, Dave and Kate, on This Father’s Day and Kate’s 48th Birthday, 2025
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Her Driftwood Forty-Eighth Wind Turned Age Leave a comment
On His Birthday, 84 Years Out 5 comments
Thomas R. Turner, May 23, 1942 – November 13, 2014 — Image by kenne
A Brother Lost
Now that it’s daylight at five,
I am awakened by the
Soft sounds of morning doves,
Delaying for a moment
My feet hitting the floor —
Just long enough
To think about my brother
Who no longer writes,
Calls or returns mine.
There’s no reason.
He has never needed
A reason to not call —
For him,
calls need a reason,
even made up ones —
Sharing a quote,
Name now forgotten,
Need to reach out.
Now lost in the northwest,
Imprisoned by his mind,
Lacking courage to create.
Now each day, I live with
Words no longer spoken,
Words no longer written.
— kenne
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Before The Eulogy — Ten Years Out 2 comments
Before Giving the Eulogy at Brother Tom’s Memorial (01/10/15)
A Brother Lost
Now that it’s daylight at five,
I am awakened by the
Soft sounds of morning doves,
Delaying for a moment
My feet hitting the floor —
Just long enough
To think about my brother
Who no longer writes,
Calls or returns mine.
There’s no reason.
He has never needed
A reason to not call —
For him,
calls need a reason,
even made-up ones —
Sharing a quote,
Name now forgotten,
He needs to reach out.
Now lost in the northwest,
Imprisoned by his mind,
Lacking courage to create.
Now, each day, I live with
Words no longer spoken,
Words no longer written.
— kenne
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My Dad — Who Was He? A Follow-up 7 comments
Some things are more impressive in person than in mind.
Words and pictures of this English Gothic-designed campus are impressive, but none begin to share the dignity captured in design and preserved by time.
There, too, are the feelings gained only from walking among these buildings, which resemble old European castles. The sense of being watched, not by clandestine eyes but by proud eyes conveys the spirit and honor that captures the “Legacy of Promises Kept.”
In the early 1920s, my grandmother died, leaving behind her only son. It was not long after her death that my grandfather remarried, this time leaving little room for a young pubertal boy, Kenne Lawrence. So began Kenne’s years (1926-31) at St. John’s Military Academy. (Now St John’s Northwestern Military Academy.)
I know little of my grandfather, George Lawrence (G.L.), most of which I learned from others. As a young Scottish immigrant, he worked his way up from the bottom, becoming president of Truscon Laboratories, Inc. in Detroit, Michigan.
As a forceful, determined high-achiever, my grandfather was not a nurturing man but could provide the best for Kenne. Founder in 1884, St. John’s had already become a highly respected college prep school in Delafield, Wisconsin.
Plans for the young Kenne to attend St. John’s Military Academy may have begun long before his mother’s death. However, Dad either shared little of why he went to the Wisconsin prep school, or my memory needs to be reminded.
Either way, I have long realized that I know little of my father, especially before my birth in 1941. I remember his love of sports and entertainment. He was a musician and professional wrestler (“Car Barn” Turner). He would talk about being in school with the Hollywood film star Jack Carson; jazz musician Lex Golden and classmates who played in the NFL.
So, it’s not a surprise to learn more after having an opportunity to review yearbooks in the St. John’s alum office. A man quick to give others nicknames, I never knew he was “Scotty.” How appropriate, a golfer and son of a Scottish immigrant.
The 1931 yearbook listed his many honors and awards, such as captain of the golf team, most Soldier Cadet, Order of Merit, and Washington Parade. But the biggest surprise of all: Class Poet! My father never talked about writing or anything literary. Why?
The yearbook reads: “Oh My! The love man from Detroit. Besides being the class poet, he is a man of the world. Ask Dorothy.”
Any conclusions on my part would be complete speculation. Dad was married four times, the first in his early twenties. This marriage resulted in a daughter, who was later broken up by her parents. Was this Dorothy? Mother would know.
Mother was his second marriage, resulting in his only other children, Thomas Robert and myself. It’s not surprising that my father would be considered the “love man from Detroit” since I have always felt the phrase “wine, women, and song” best describes Dad.
Maybe someday we will know more about Scotty, the man, the lover, the musician, the man of the world, the poet. But then, this may be how he wanted it and should remain so. Having walked the grounds of St. John’s, feeling his spirit as he so poetically prophesized, “Our spirit shown is here to stay,” his poem may say all that needs to be known and, therefore remain forever in the dimly lit halls of St. John’s.
THE CLASS POEM
Fellow classmates the day is near,
When we shall part and go our ways,
And leave this school our pride and joy
Throughout our student boyhood days.
The vine-clad walls in which we’ve lived,
With our instructors four short years,
Will stand out in our memories,
As days of toil which we revere.
We’ve worked and prayed and played our best,
We ran our race to do or die,
Trying to equal if not surpass
The noble work of those gone by.
Our work is almost at an end,
And as we look back on the past
True St. John’s soldiers have we been,
Fighting and serving to the last.
Our classroom doors are closed now,
This time classmates we’re on our own,
Ready to face the world at wide,
In which we’re all about to roam.
With bodies sound and hearts so true,
And with a knowledge of the best,
We’re well equipped in all the things
Essential for our final test.
Our spirit shown is here to stay,
And our many years of friendship seem
Now that we are soon to part,
Like the happening in a dream.
Let’s give a cheer for old St. John’s
The school that made us what we are,
Farewell, dear teachers, one and all,
We’re leaving now, some near, some far.
— from “The Trumpeter”, 1931
Most of the above copy first appeared in a post on this blog on August 3, 2008. The posting generated several comments, one of which was a real surprise.
“I was thrilled to finally find out information regarding my father, Kenne Lawrence Turner. I knew that he attended St. John’s Academy with my uncle, Henry Russer. My mother was Dorothy. I was born in Chicago in 1933. I have always wanted to know about my father. My mother had told me that my father had remarried and had two sons, you and Robert. I would love for you to contact me.”
Sincerely,
Jean Carolyn Turner-Polston
Jean told me that Dorothy died at 52, having fallen asleep smoking a cigarette in bed. Jean and I exchanged emails and calls for about a year, and we planned to get together in Indiana. Then, the contacts stopped. Sometime later, I received an email from Jean’s granddaughter informing me that Jean had passed away. Dorothy had never remarried. Like Dad, she had a drinking problem. Dad was 52 when he died.
There’s a true love story here, with neither sadly living up to their parent’s expectations. This became even more apparent with the birth of Jean Carolyn in 1933.
“Oh my! The love man from Detroit. Besides being the class poet, he is a man of the world. Ask Dorothy.”
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My Dad — Who Was He? 2 comments
Private Kenne L. Turner, St. John’s Acadamy Military In Wisconsin (Winter, 1927)
Who Was He?
Determining one’s own identity can, and often is, a lifelong process since the world is constantly
changing and needs, satisfactions, values, and expectations continue to evolve. Assuming this,
seeking the true identity of a parent can be daunting. Therefore, I remind myself daily that individual
and universal meaning is about gathering information, not to repress or overlook a single phenomenon.
To do so, we set up preferences, creating false expectations, therefore dooming ourselves to
ignorance or at least to a prison of doubt.
We may arrive at an answer that his identity is forever in process and that, at this moment, he is
more in the future than anything he was in the past. Therefore, our best answer to his identity is no
particular answer but stands open to reality. This is the true void to which we must ultimately come.
— kenne
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On This Mother’s Day . . . 5 comments
. . . Recognizing that she was not always old, so here are two when she was in her late teens. A thanks to Joanna for asking if I had any pictures of Mother when she was young.
My mother had beautiful red hair.
Agnes with her mother, Augusta.
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Saguaro Family 2 comments
Saguaro Family In Sabino Canyon — HDR Image by kenne
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Beautiful Girls Leave a comment
Beautiful Girls (Christmas, 2005) — Image by kenne
Beautiful girls smile
Each dreaming of tomorrow
Future is waiting
— kenne
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Let’s Dance, Grandma 4 comments
“Let’s Dance, Grandma” — James and Joy (October 2, 2021)
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Windsor Vermont Dinner Leave a comment
Dinner at Harpoon Brewery in Windsor, Vermont (Jaxon, Nick, Matt, and Katie, August 18, 2021) — Image by kenne
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HAPPY 18th BIRTHDAY, KATELYN 2 comments
Katelyn with Her Aunt Kate (July 2021)
When you look at me, you see the past.
When I look at you, I see the future and
Feel good about things to come.
— kenne
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Celebrating Audrey’s 13th Birthday — A Photo-Essay 1 comment
Celebrating Granddaughter Audrey’s Birthday in Short Pump (August 14, 2021) Photo Essay by kenne
(Click on any image to see in a slideshow format.)
We planned our August road trip to be in the Richmond area for Audrey’s 13th birthday —
I collect moments.
— kenne
“I close my eyes
Only for a moment,
then the moment’s gone
All my dreams
Pass before my eyes, a curiosity
Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground,
though we refuse to see
Now, don’t hang on
Nothing lasts forever
but the earth and sky
It slips away
And all your money
won’t another minute buy
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind.”
— Kerry Livgren, guitarist in the band Kansas
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Visiting Family In Short Pump, Virginia — Photo-Essay Leave a comment
Images by kenne (August 13-14, 2021)
(Click on any of the images for a larger view in a slideshow format.)
We arrived in Short Pump in the late afternoon on August 13th, where we would spend the next three days with Jason and family.
Short Pump is a suburb of Richmond, Virginia. The population was 24,729 at the 2010 census.
This posting is the second of three that will be shared of our stay in Short Pump.
Here’s a link to the first posting — https://kenneturner.com/2021/09/09/time-with-grandchildren-at-swimming-pool-a-photo-essay/
The older grandchildren will be part of the third in this series of three postings on our visit to Short Pump.
— kenne
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Time With Grandchildren At Swimming Pool — A Photo Essay 2 comments
Images by kenne (August 14, 2021) — Click On Any Image To See In Slideshow Format.
After spending time driving and sightseeing in the southeast (as COVID-19 was spiking through the area)
we made it to Richmond, VA, where we spent time with family (Jason, April, Cayden, Cayla, Audrey, and Robin).
This was our first opportunity to spend time with our new grandchildren Cayla and Cayden.
— kenne
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A Christmas Family Album 12 comments
(Click on any image to see in a slideshow format.)
Christmas Over The Last Couple of Decades — Images by kenne
