My Friend Kenneth
By Michael Woyan
Page 1 sex Page 2 drugs Page 3 sin Page 4 lust Page 5 envy Page 6 fortune Page 7 evil Page 8 pirate Page 9 thief

Page 7
No matter how late we'd be out on Friday night, Kenneth would be in a southbound taxi late Saturday morning.
Rarely would Kenneth get phone calls from family at home. He seemed to enjoy the separateness of his lives here in America, and I saw no argument in an adult keeping family life separate from home life and keeping both lives separate from his work life. Kenneth must have had that basic respect from all who knew him because although there were occasions where he might mix them together, they never, ever encroached. That is precisely why it was so unnerving when Bernard began to call.
Most of the really good friends I know have or have had a crazy brother. Certainly everyone I know knows someone who has or has had a crazy brother. I know. I have one. So Kenneth's sense of tension in matters regarding his brother were familiar to me. A gifted individual with a contagious smile, Bernard was the most popular instructor at the secondary school in which he taught in Ireland, especially with the young girls who developed crushes for him of the teenage variety. Bernard was an especially talented horseman winning medals in various competitions. Brilliant and charismatic, he was always a favored guest at most gatherings, and was engaging at a variety of topics. However, over time he became less so. Although Bernard was considered the most creative of his siblings and talented at a great many things, it also seemed apparent to those who knew him that he was unable master any of his gifts, possessed a limited attention span and struggled with a dreadfully poor self-image.
His wandering Irish soul brought him to these shores roughly about the same time Kenneth's brought his here. Bernard had developed skills in carpentry and hoped to make a life here in the professions of his brothers Adrian and Fenton. Over the years that Kenneth and I lived together, I only received bits and pieces of information about him and his developing challenges with drugs and alcohol. For Bernard, it seemed that being a three dimensional thinker in a two dimensional world had its problems. By the time that I met him, he was clearly and sadly in the final stages of his descent toward the abyss. Having buried two parents and having witnessed three near death bouts with substance abuse, I recognized and was chilled by the smell of death on Bernard.
He had been calling recently in a state of despair asking Kenneth for help. Prior to this, Kenneth having one of the strongest senses of self I've ever met, wisely offered support and encouragement in seeking help, but also expressed disapproval toward his choices, and offered no financial help whatsoever. The day finally came when Bernard reached what the experts call "rock bottom," and immediately Kenneth extended his formidable hand up, Bernard came over and they talked it through making the necessary agreements of honor and commitment toward recovery. Kenneth offered to accompany his brother to AA and NA meetings twice per week, more if necessary, until Bernard was able to find a sponsor. And for a time that's exactly what occurred. Then came the calls from Adrian and Fenton telling us Bernard was missing work for two day stretches, which were followed by the emotional calls from Bernard of regret and resolve. For the first time, Bernard was indeed fighting his disease. However, it was beginning to look like he was frighteningly overmatched. Their parents no longer wanted Bernard in America. In fact, they probably never completely approved of any of their children venturing too far for too long from the hearth fire of home. Plans were being made to bring Bernard back to Ireland for some form of sequester and professional treatment to be determined in an effort to solve the root cause of his troubles.
It was Sunday evening at about eight o'clock when I received a phone call from Bernard asking for Kenneth to whom I replied that he hadn't yet arrived from the south side, that he was in route and that he'd be arriving shortly. When I asked Bernard for a phone number, he said he too was en route and that he would try again later. We talked for a short while; Bernard was lucid and in excellent spirits. He said he was feeling very optimistic that everything was going to be OK and was looking forward to enjoying the holidays at home. It was then I felt a sensation that can only be compared to an adrenaline rush. Bernard never called back.
When Kenneth arrived home, I delivered Bernard's message and Kenneth promptly left a word on Bernard's answering machine. It was then, Kenneth having already missed most of Masterpiece Theater, that I persuaded him to join me in the bar downstairs for one of the most difficult beers of my life. Having witnessed death personally, and having that powerless sense of its inevitability, I felt compelled to tell Kenneth he might be wise to begin to prepare for Bernard's passing. I explained my reasoning of planning for the worst, hoping for the best so that collateral emotional damage might be reduced somehow and that he might be bit stronger for his family.

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