Ken: "I live my
life… fabulously. There will always
be those spontaneous moments that seem impossible to pass up. Some things only come once in a
lifetime, and it is up to you to keep them close. How important is your life to you? Cherish it and live--filled with energy. Whatever the past has hammered into your
soul, let it go. Don't be afraid to take risks. If things don't turn out the way you
want, don't worry about it; make the best of it, and you may discover
something unexpected. When you're
down, do something positive for yourself (or someone else). Learn to love. Ergo, express your
emotions."
Ken’s a hot boyfriend.
He does things like make breakfast in bed, sends quick e-mails to cheer
you, and does all the things that in your heart, you want him to do. He even brings you flowers! And he comes to your defense whenever
you need it (at whatever hour). He looks out for you (doing everything from
helping with To Dos to spotting a gift you’ve been looking for). You
know that you are his top priority—nothing is ever more important. It’s like the sun is shining on
you.
Ken invited us to dine out. When we got to the restaurant, Ken asked for his preferred
waitress, Dawn, but was told that she was working a private party in the other
room. Another waitress appeared,
but just then, Dawn arrived and
explained that upon our arrival, the manager had switched her out of the party
to wait on our table. I heard the
younger waitress say, “Oh, is this him?” and Dawn said, “Yes, this is the
fellow I was telling you about. Do
you want me to take him?” It
wasn’t really a question. The
other waitress understood and bowed out gracefully. Dawn leaned over and gave Ken a big hug and a kiss, and he
slipped a gratuity in her pocket. It was
all done so charmingly and effortlessly.
Dawn knew that Ken loved ice-cold martinis. The food was so delicious. After our meal, every time Ken
secretly spun his finger in the air—not high, just near his head—another round
of drinks came: cordials, espresso, grappa. (Remember, we’re just a bunch of post-college kids in this swanky place!) Dawn never left sight of
our table. And when she came
around, Ken would encompass her in our conversations. Needless to say, we enjoyed a night of great food and lots
of laughs (not only between ourselves but with the staff and other
customers). As we left, Dawn told
Ken to “keep safe”, which she said with genuine fondness and liking.
He’s the best friend I have. He covers for me, can keep a secret, offers sound advice,
listens patiently when I tell him how I messed up, and goes about helping me
solve my problems—shielding me from more blows until I regained my footing.
On his days off, you’ll most likely see Ken in a city,
going into different stores, shooting espresso at a café, sipping at a
hotel bar, slurping at a local oyster bar, people-watching (there’s always something new), or meandering through museums and cobblestone streets. That’s because being informed and
entertained are high priorities for him. I'm not surprised that he lives in Astoria. It's the perfect neighborhood for him: trendy yet "small-town", art on display, city-life blended with Nature, a sense of community, and close proximity to Manhattan and the airports.
I was invited to this house party, and I remember
driving there--not sure if I was at the right exit on the highway. Just then, I saw this silver Lincoln LS whoosh by (windows
down and sunroof open), and—with a slight blink of the signal—speed to the exit
ahead of me. I knew it was going
to be a fun evening because Ken was going to be there! When I got there, I heard someone joke,
“Ken’s always prompt. I’m sure
they’re still clearing the debris after him on the expressway.”
Ken’s memo read: “It is unfortunate that there are people
without principles or virtues, those who take the path of least resistance as
an easy way out, those who hide from and murmur about problems instead of
addressing them... those who refuse to change because it is inconvenient, those
who cater to the lowest common denominator, those who fail to think for
themselves, and those who do not appreciate candor because they feel that they
are too good for it.”
There’s one person I know who’s never weighed down by his
possessions. Ken travels light and
doesn’t complicate his life with electronics, overstuffed wallets, key chains,
and such. He makes me realize how
little is really needed to satisfy Life. You can easily become trapped by material goods. But all you
have to do is look at my man, Ken (who simplifies things and focuses on
important stuff like keeping commitments, not creating expectations, attending
to the little things, "stopping to smell the roses", increasing his knowledge, and showing honesty & integrity) and you’ll be able
to keep yourself on track.
Ken demands of us very high
standards. Clear thinking and
unflinching personal honesty. Yet
never higher than those by which he lives: confidence, integrity, a sense of
civic good, and truth. Ken never lets
me get away with being less than my truest, higher self. He's always patient during
the times when I'm stumbling awkwardly through challenges. And he's there to catch me, if I fall while trying.
On our mutual day off, Ken picked me up and we went to Nordstrom for shopping. He pulled into the valet station. The lot was packed! I suggested that we park elsewhere. Just then, a young valet approached Ken's window, they seemed to recognize each other, and Ken had a word with him. The valet took his car ahead of the whole line and put it in the third spot by the door! Inside Nordstrom, the "only woman" in the Men's Shoe Department (she sells over $1 million annually) welcomed him with a sincere kiss and hug. She just returned from a vacation in Italy (buying shoes along the way). Knowing his preferences, she rattled off what the newest arrivals included--and what wasn't his style. Ken knows about shoes! Then, we meandered to the Men's Furnishings Department where everyone recognized him. It was like a reunion. They all teased him that his job didn't allow him to visit as often, but he quickly swept them into his enthusiasm of his intended purchases for us. French cuff shirts by Faconable, coordinating with Ermengegildo Zegna ties (woven silk--not printed) in vibrant colors. The salesman's name was also Kenneth, and Ken called the salesman "me", and "me" was permitted by the floor manager to escort Ken anywhere he needed to go--even to the espresso bar. I picked out some skinny jeans for his nice legs. Very satisfied, and having told his recent escapades to all around him, Ken picked up his car ahead of the line (the valet gave a compliment on it being the cleanest car he’d parked) and the two of them spoke for a
little bit. While driving, Ken called
his boss, André, and asked if he’d like to go out that
night. We lunched, talked about
work and relationships, and then took a long luxurious nap in his two-person
hammock. Well, I kept sleeping, while he read his latest novel. Before I knew it, he was tickling me to
wake me up!
Where Ken really makes it happen is when the barbecue is
literally “fired up”, everyone is bringing a bottle, and the "man of the house" is working his phone, rounding up guests. And he gets everyone to come! Our dinner was enjoyed with a mix of his Jazz, Salsa, Hip-Hop and
the soundtrack to the movie, Chicago
in the background. How cool wuz
dat?
Okay guys, just because you are living alone does not mean
that you have "bachelor pads". You
are disqualified if guests are fearful of setting foot in your bathroom or are
forced to drink from plastic cups.
Ken has a bachelor pad.
There is leather seating, a chrome bar cart, gadgets, and art. His sleek and streamlined kitchen is
young and chic. A fireplace
crackles in winter, and candles flicker in summer. Looking around, you spot a French press, a cocktail shaker,
a high-definition TV, orchids, a refrigerator full of food (he cooks), and an
ever-growing collection of jazz and mambo music. Lots of room for sharing. Champagne flutes that look like they’re from the Modern
Museum of Art. Extra pillows
and toothbrushes (if the need arises for overnight guests).
He keeps his mouthwash in a decanter. And a remote control can kill the lights and turn on the
mood music before someone can say, “I should really be getting
home.”
I’m trying to figure out what to say about him because—like
I said—he’s hard to summarize.
Ken’s different from any person I met, but that’s what makes him who
he is. He’s
free from the constraints of time, guilt, apprehension, and insecurity. I wish I could have so much
strength as him, especially when I’m faced with criticism and the demands of
others. I really admire him for
that. I hope he never changes.
It was New Year's Eve, and I visited Ken on Long Island. We intended to stay home to watch the ball drop on TV (Ken disapproves of overpriced/crowded holidays). But, at the last minute, I felt like celebrating and suggested we go out somewhere. Such an ass, right? Especially after he'd prepared to make dinner for me. Nonetheless, Ken impulsively agreed. He made a call on his cellphone to a favorite restaurant of his and actually made
a dinner reservation at 5pm on New Year’s
Eve! The restaurant was full,
but they had set up another table for us—right by the entertainment for the
night, a Sinatra-style vocalist with (Tony Bennett’s) Doug Debin Trio. Three waiters that Ken knew took turns
visiting us and bringing holiday goodies. Despite the price-fix menu, we got "seconds"! Ken was also patient as I kept ordering
different drinks, trying to find one that I really wanted to stick with. Finally, a couple at a neighboring
table bought me something to try—to help me in my process. Whatever it was, I liked it. Ken giggled at the scenario, and stuck with his Manhattans. At midnight, we
were all dancing and everyone tried to call people on their phones,
but the lines were jammed. Ken
paid the tab and the valet had his car waiting before we even stepped
outside. The last thing I recall
was getting back to his house, falling in the snow to make a snow angel, and
then falling asleep next to him, with his arms around me, watching a movie
amidst the glow of his (real) Christmas tree.
Ken once told me that in order to achieve and learn, you
must put yourself in a place where you feel unsafe—not completely in
control. He told me not to fear,
because from that uncertainty, a worthwhile lesson is salvaged. There is no progress without failure,
so don’t be afraid to take a hit.
Too many people get bitter about life. Stay patient and passionate. Have a strong belief in yourself. Accept challenges.
This is from an e-mail that Ken sent me about why he likes to
travel: “So much of any culture—its music, literature, precious art—is the
topic of chance, situation and accident... of who was there for just that
moment when it mattered most.
Culture is fragile—irreplaceable even. That quality by which it
might never have happened is part of its magic, part of why we, its
lovers, feel ourselves illuminated and renewed by its radiance.”
Ken: "Guilt, to me, is idiotic. I always found guilt to be something that has been taught
to people by a terrible culture of Puritans, where you are supposed to atone
for some initial sin. I find guilt
to be senseless. I don’t have
guilt for having a good time or being successful. It is very negative and basically something for old women
and the insecure."
Ken likes to have friendly relationships with waitstaff. Whether the bagel shop, a
local eatery, a bar, or a fancy restaurant. To know their names and what’s up with them. And he’s a straightforward easy
customer. He likes to be able to
give a quick look (a cue) at the bartender, who’ll know to make his favorite
martini. A discreet finger in the
air means a second round (although most waiters already know and some buy him
the second round). He likes that a
hostess or server remembers his preferences… and he remembers theirs! He gets satisfaction from the subtlety
of their interaction, instead of a grand show of throwing money around. Hospitality staff like him because he
can relate to them, because he doesn’t treat them as subordinates, because he
doesn’t want ass-kissing. He
brings them chocolate turkeys at Thanksgiving, roses near Valentine’s Day, and
something if he knows their birthday. Somewhere along the way, Ken was taught "fine dining" protocol. He eats the way Europeans do: fork in
left hand, knife in right. He
quietly positions his fork & knife (fork upside down) at 4 o’clock when
done (maybe the folks at the Four Seasons would recognize that). He wipes his lips
before sipping. When we were browsing in a shop one day, he recognized all
the utensils and stemware in an elaborate display. He doesn’t ostentatiously stick his pinky out when drinking; it correctly curls daintily under.
He never sniffs a cork.
Even tipsy after 3 cocktails, he subconsciously and elegantly holds a
glass by its stem: it is pure and natural.
At a proper restaurant, he leans slightly to the left while making steady eye
contact with a server to indicate that he’s done with the dishes (good waiters
clear from the right); thus he doesn’t interrupt the table’s chatter. Its like he’s got a silent/subtle dance
going on with the staff. Yet, he’s
a bouncy “barrel of laughs”, quips, wickedly funny wit, and lively
conversation—able to relate to so many varied things!
Words that I associate with Ken: Life, Passion, Real,
Motion, Love, Lucky, Harmony, Creative, Sing, Smart, Old Soul, Potency, Energy
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