"Ken was one of the most sincere people I've ever worked with. We both shared a love of our high school alma mater, Fishburne Military School and although we were 16 years apart in age, we enjoyed volunteering in leadership positions for Fishburne. No matter the issue - and some were quite challenging - Ken was always upbeat. His "can-do" attitude was infectious and welcome. God bless his family and friends.”

"Ken was my oldest friend--"my cradle buddy", I said, because there is a photo of his mother holding me, age one and two weeks, above his cradle when he came home from the hospital. Ken was always a force--unbounded energy. He considered my mother his second mother, and called her "Sally" from my earliest memory (no other kid in our neighborhood called an adult by his or her first name). He spent a lot of time at our house--playing with lead soldiers in the basement, riding the go-cart around the back yard, later playing pool on our three-quarter-size pool table, playing canasta on the screened porch until late in the evening. Christmas was not Christmas without going two houses up and having Mrs. Fisher's fudge. Ken came along on the 5-week camping trip my folks made "out west": Brice, Zion, the Grand Canyon, Los Vegas, Los Angles, the La Breya tar pits, Knott's Berry Farm, Disneyland, Yosemite, the Titons, Yellowstone (where we had a snowball fight on the 5th of July, and in Yellowstone lake caught the best-tasting fish I ever had, cutthroat trout--wrapped with butter in foil and cooked in the campfire coals), and back home through Kansas, were Ken regularly exclaimed "piggies" when we past a hog farm. We shared many fishing trips--fishing for spot on the Maryland tidal waters, bluefish or rockfish charters on the Chesapeake Bay, shad on the tidal Rappahannock, and once on the annual trip I made with my father and uncles and cousins to Lake Oba in northern Ontario, where after catching his first big Northern Pike he exclaimed, "this is better than sex". (The first time I came back from Lake Oba when I was telling him about the trip, I said "On the last day, I caught a 19-inch pike". I waited for his response, "Oh, man" and then delivered the punch line "And threw it back because we weren't keeping them that small that day". And it was a punch line, because, as so often, he banged on my shoulder for getting a laugh on him.) On one fishing trip on the Potomac above Great Falls (one of the loveliest spots in the world, where the river braids into hundreds of little islands) in my two-person kayak, he remarked that I was keeping us near the shore. I said it's always more interesting at the edges. He said, "That explains my relationship with X (his then-girlfriend, whose name I don't remember). We kayaked on the Potomac, the Shenandoah, the Rappahannock, North Fork Potomac, Goose Creek, Opequon Creek--where we arrived at the take-out in the last little bits of daylight after dodging rocks we could barely see--it was dark by the time we got the kayak on the car. The summer after I graduated from high school (Ken had finished 11th grade), we drove with another friend, Bruce Young, in my ming green Ford Falcon station wagon to Yellowstone park. As we were entering the park after dark, with Bruce driving and me asleep in the back (one person at a time could sleep extended with the back seat folded down) we hit a moose. Glancing blow, fortunely--no harm to the car and we hoped none to the moose, which sauntered off. I loved Ken and Bob Herb's gatherings at their cabin in West Virginia and later at his and Carole's house in Virginia. I was there in West Virginia the first time Carole came. People were sleeping everywhere, and I could overhear Carole talking to a friend on the phone, saying she had met Ken when he came to her office on a painting job (I think), and she said to herself, "Who is this guy?". Well, I'm so glad they stayed together so she found out, and he found out who she was. There's so much more. Farewell, my old friend, my cradle buddy.”