Celebrating Unattractive Choices

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

History is often the same movie with a different cast. Watching and reading news reports over the weekend that President Trump may not be cracking down on immigrant communities as hard as some of his supporters would like  (yeah, I had to read the headline twice myself) is a variation on a theme that has been the American tune from before the beginning of our nation. I am a verse of that song.

The Irish's arrival in America was, for its time, the largest and most prolonged migration of one ethnic group since the nations of the world began keeping track of such things. Those fleeing Ireland for America were not only family members, but extended families, whole neighborhoods, and, in many instances, entire villages and townships. All were half a step ahead of starvation and destitution.

To remain in Ireland was to die, but fleeing to America was often death of another kind, only more slowly. Having already been made into outcasts in our own country, immigrants hardly noticed how our treatment in the New World often resembled our handling in the old.

And still, we came, by the thousands every month, by the tens of thousands, and into the millions. At one point, very nearly twenty percent of all Americans were of Irish ancestry, which is a statistic offered today, Saint Patrick's Day, to help not just those of us who are and were part of the Irish Diaspora to remember where we came from but to remind all of us how far we have yet to go.

-bill kenny

Be an Exclamation

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. 

It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?'
Actually, who are you not to be? 

You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world. 

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you." -Marianne Williamson
-bill kenny

What Is Lost Can Never Be Saved

"Tell me I'm the only one. Tell me there's no other one."

"Jesus was an only son. Yeah, tell me I'm the only one."
-bill kenny

Celebrating the Life of "Coach" Russ Forsythe

Russ was married to my middle sister, Kara, the father of three sons and a granddaughter. I was very fortunate to know him and have him as a brother-in-law.

"We invite family and friends to join us on March 14, 2026, to celebrate the life of an incredible man, Russ Forsythe.

"The event will be held at 5 Graphics Drive, Ewing, NJ (Simply Fit) from the hours of 2-5 pm.

"Please join us to share stories, laughter, and the many memories as we try to honor his life and legacy.

"All are welcome. (Even RJ)."
-bill kenny

Blinked and Missed It

On Wednesday our temperature topped out at sixty-seven degrees. Today's forecast suggests that if we get to thirty-five, we'll be lucky. Yesterday, the weather forecast called for snow showers AND thunderstorms. At one point, such a prognostication would have astounded me.

However, almost thirty-five years of living in New England has cured me of my wide-eyed incredulity.

All four seasons in the same afternoon? Sure, why not?
-bill kenny  

Herzlichen Gluckwunsche

Today is my wife's birthday. 

Sigrid is remarkable because she is a force of nature as much as she is the love of my life. I am not, as you may have already imagined from any visits to this page, the easiest person with whom to share the planet, much less a life and a bed.

She is my human credential in that she always created and sustained a life for our children and me, and for too many decades, allowed me to put on this 'Hail Fellow, Well Met! Man of the World" artifice every workday morning (and far too many weekends as well), spend all day giving my time to total strangers, and then return home at night to be the person I intended to be when we fell in love.

I will never have enough money, talent, good luck, or any of the conventional advantages and attributes to give her all that she deserves. In recent months, because of health concerns, I transitioned from being her partner to being her patient, a deal that in almost five decades of life together, she NEVER signed up for. She doesn't complain and never has. 

She is the most important part of my life, and that is the only thing that matters to me. As long as she is in my life, it is complete and fulfilling. Happy birthday, angel eyes.
-bill kenny   

Christ on a Corroded Catamaran

DISCLAIMER: Title was my idea, inspired by the lyrical lunacy of Jeff Tedreich, whose politics column on Substack offers analysis of our current administration that rivals that of the late Dr. Hunter Thompson on the presidency of Richard Milhous Nixon. 

His observations over the last couple of years, especially in the wake of the Trump Triumph, have helped keep me sane. You might want to try him.   

Anyway, I loved that turn of phrase and co-opted it. It has nothing to do with anything, which may be the most perfect description of this space in the ether ever created. 

This time last week, our temperatures were struggling and failing to get beyond twenty-five degrees. This past Monday, the outside was sixty-seven, and the skies were gloriously blue. Yesterday it got to about sixty with more wind than I'd like, but beggars can't be choosers.

I know we're ten days away from the beginning of spring, and in New England, that doesn't necessarily mean squat in all honesty, but at the risk of seeming greedy, a guy could get used to this pretty easily.
-bill kenny