Her Face

I've just finished recording a rough version of a new song, provisionally called 'Her Face'. It is, of course, about my sister Esme. I wish I could say that this is a positive look at good memories and shared love, but this one is more about the loss and confusion. I hope to do a better recording at some point, but I felt like getting it out there as I had kind of written it for the six-month's-out time. The link is http://www.box.net/shared/cv36h9vgvm where you can download it to your computer.



Like any artist of pretension, here are the lyrics:

Her Face

Kingfisher calls, flies past my bed
Wondering at the things it has said
Under the sun and midst the cold cold rain
Listening through the night for the train

Watching the marsh, clouds on the sea
Wishing that her love, her light will somehow follow me
The skies are bare, the crows keep their watch
Looking for the times we have lost

We wait and wait all year for signs
When we’re alone or thick with wine
We wait for faces in the weathered gate posts
Waiting for the things we love the most

I lie in bed, and turn my head
Hearing through the open window things that she once said
I strain my ears to hear her voice tonight
Saying something good to help me make it through this night

We wait and wait all year for signs
When we’re alone or thick with wine
We wait for faces in the weathered gate posts
Waiting for the things we love the most

Times we had are nothing, anymore
An empty road we drove down long before
Though they’re everything that’s left
The smiles that hide
Behind my eyes
I will never see her face again
I will never see her again

Thanks for the (musical) memories

Music brings our family together - we join energy and become one voice, one song, for a precious moment. I have fond memories of dance parties of Thanksgiving pasts, and lately, the jam sessions and singalongs that take place whenever we gather.

Esme was in the thick of our musical gatherings. Her voice, beautiful and strong like her sisters’, was always clear. It would have been delightful to see her on guitar this summer (or maybe having fun with the accordion, or shaking maracas with her nieces).

I will cherish many musical moments from this year’s trip – Bright Morning Star sung from kayaks and canoes, Brad/Bri Beatles dance party, post-fish-fry singalongs (sometimes joyful, sometimes teary). We sang the popcorn song but it just wasn’t the same without Es.

Halloween Memories

I had the pleasure of spending two different Halloweens with Esme, both of which are the source of great memories. Look at this picture of Brian and I, all dressed up and looking down at Esme. This is in many ways very indicative of the kind of influence Es had on our lives. She's all of perhaps four, and see how she is already in charge of all of us. Brian and I are looking at her, most likely ready to do whatever her bidding is, already having dressed ourselves up as a zombie (Brian, complete with a face mask to achieve the zombie pallor) and a....well I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be (the phantom of the opera?). Franny is around also, costumed in whatever we could find, and we're all there to escort our little girl, dressed up as "lyion", around to all the houses. We know just where to go, Jerry's little neighborhood, where the people seem to enjoy halloween and really create quite a scene, with sound effects and everything. It's a great little night, and we loved being together, and having the chance to go trick or treating once again.

Esme always had the ability to bring out the kid in us, and these photos prove it. Often when I played with Es, particularly as a small girl, we would play imaginative games. Dad frequently mentions the habit that Esme and I shared of walking back and forth muttering stories to ourselves. This habit evolved into acting out shared fantasies with each other. While they can be somewhat harder to maintain as an adult ("oh we're going to play that again?"), I still managed to go into that fantasy world with her a fair bit, and had some memorable moments acting out both cinderella and the secret garden.

I also remember a later Halloween, this one with Todd, when Esme dressed up as the ghost. She was clear about her costume from the beginning, and I think we were all surprised at how awesome such a simple costume actually looked. Esme's vision surprised us all, and as we wandered the streets from house to house, the compliments flowed fast from other trick-or-treaters--"Hey the classic!" "Nice ghost!" "That's awesome!" Much better than all those store-bought teenaged mutant ninja turtles, or whatever it is children like to wear these days. She was a always a girl with her own unique vision.

She keeps us looking up

I have been working on a piece of music with Esme in my heart. Felt it was far enough along to let it go a while. It is titled "She keeps me looking up".

She keeps me looking up by greenkhidr

The night of Esme's death I went for a walk on the beach and captured these images.




I don't have much in the way of words tonight. Just quiet reflection.

Brief thoughts from the cabin

I sat down to write in our guestbook tonight and opened it up to the page from last summer and the last entry is from Esme.

"I am so glad to be here and see Harper and Campbell running around! What beautiful little children they are becoming. I love you! Esme. Happy B-Day aunt Sue!"

Everywhere I turn up here there's something that brings Esme and my mom in clear focus in my head - my mom's decorated outhouse, Esme's beach... yet it's so beautiful and peaceful up here that it seems like as good of a place as any to face the reality of losing those I love so dearly.

Canada memories

Here are a few fabulous videos that Tom, Lisa, Brad and I watched yesterday on Lisa's laptop:

Lisa recorded (surreptitiously) Brian and Esme jamming on the guitars:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TCUGJeeM0Zw

Esme recorded a group papermaking session (complete with a Harper clapalong)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=03GsgB6VGEA

Blueberry reflections

The blueberry picking picture of Esme and Campbell is my current favorite picture of Esme - I love because I took it, because in her face you can see the light, the joy, the love that was Esme, and because the picture and the day capture a Sioux Narrows typical moment that is precious.

The Little Russell branch of the Kenney Sioux Narrows clan wanted to go blueberry picking because Tom and I had had such a great haul at the field last year. We invited Esme and of course she wanted to join us. The field is fun to enter - you have to squeeze around a fence that very clearly says Do not Enter (we took our picture peering out from behind the sign) and then you have a wide open space to explore, scramble around, and find blueberries. Esme had her pail, just like Harper and Cam, and she carefully led them around for awhile finding good spots. After a short amount of time they parked down in a spot to snack. I remember dumping some of my blueberries into H/C pails so they could eat and she held out her pail and I filled hers too for snacking. In the picture, you can see a glimpse of what Esme would have looked like as a teenager but she was also a kid having a snack in the blueberry patch. On the way home, she sat between Harper and Cam and read them Richard Scarry. She always read beautifully to my children, and I know Gabby loved reading with Esme too.

I know some of the blueberries from that trip made it into a delicious Lisa dessert, and I am sure Esme ate some in one of her famous pancakes. But this trip, although about blueberry aquisition, was really more about the experience of being togehter, and that's what I will always treasure through this photo. It's hard for me to look at all these wonderful pictures of Esme and my children - they were delighted with her and she with them, yet her passing has not had an effect on them at all. (And that makes developmental sense - I am not saying they are heartless creatures, just that they don't really get it.) Harper has some sense that Esme is gone "like grandma", but even my mom's passing hasn't seemed to have an effect on them. And yet, on some level, I don't really get it yet either. I sitll find myself confused by the circumstances, having to tell myself that she's no longer physically with us on this earth.

A line from a Dylan song has been running through my head, from "You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go".

I'll see you in the sky above, In the tall grass, in the ones I love

I know I will see Esme in every wild blueberry bush I see this summer.

A musical tribute

I have been working with Harper on her memories of Esme for her quilt square. This is what she wrote. Me too.

Esme's dance party

Esme gets her rhythm up at the cabin. Video courtesy of Meghan, who is behind the iron curtain and can't post herself. I love that she's dancing to a Beatles tune - she was well trained!

A rare natural smile from Brian, in Esme's company.

This is a favorite picture of mine, taken on some nice day on dad's back patio before I left for the Appalachian Trail and then Boston.  I miss you, Esme, and I love you.

Happy Almost Easter

Today I am remembering an Easter 2 years ago, after my mom had just been diagnosed with cancer and was in the first stages of her treatment. The kids and I visited for a week, and Tom, Lisa and Esme came up right before Easter for an overnight. There were the usual Kenney family gathering events – much music, laughter, a good Lisa meal. Mom was not feeling well – the chemo was starting to have an effect - but her spirit was brightened by all the activity and excitement.

There are many precious pictures and memories that I have of Harper and Esme, who were best of buds when together. This particular trip, Esme and Harper colored eggs, shared a popsicle, and tromped around together in the snow, which fell fast and furious on “Easter eve”. Esme had a playful spirit that made her a natural playmate for Harper (and Cam once he got older).

My mom’s illness, painful as it was, brought the family together more often and gave us the gift of more precious time with Esme and other beloved family members. My happiest family memories are being lost in a song, with Kenney voices and guitars surrounding, like we were that Easter, this past Thanksgiving in Connecticut and the night after Esme’s memorial service. I love Esme, and I love you all.

A Poem by Mary Oliver

White Owl Flies Into and Out of the Field

Coming down out of the freezing sky
with its depths of light,
like an angel, or a Buddha with wings,
it was beautiful, and accurate,
striking the snow and whatever was there
with a force that left the imprint
of the tips of its wings — five feet apart —
and the grabbing thrust of its feet,
and the indentation of what had been running
through the white valleys of the snow —
and then it rose, gracefully,
and flew back to the frozen marshes
to lurk there, like a little lighthouse,
in the blue shadows —
so I thought:
maybe death isn't darkness, after all,
but so much light wrapping itself around us —

as soft as feathers —
that we are instantly weary of looking, and looking,
and shut our eyes, not without amazement,
and let ourselves be carried,
as through the translucence of mica,
to the river that is without the least dapple or shadow,
that is nothing but light — scalding, aortal light —
in which we are washed and washed
out of our bones.

~ Mary Oliver ~

A few more Canada pictures.

Rubber raft time!

Going for the record.

Not so sure about this...

Up in the attic, with my trusty nalgene bottle making a supporting appearance...

Sittin' on the dock of the bay...

Miss junior bass pro girl.

One of my all-time favorite pictures.  These gals must be sisters.

Little girl looks at little fish.

Playing with magnets.

What's going on here?

Who was Esme Kenney?

The following is the eulogy for Esme Louise Kenney who was taken from us Saturday, March 7th, 2009. 


13 years ago we had the amazing experience of welcoming into the world a new baby girl. I remember the first I held her in my arms, I wondered about this new little being in the world--who she was, and who she would become.

Who was Esme Kenney?

When Esme was 3 years old, she already knew the make and model of the cars of every single member of her family and friends. When I would drive over to see her, as I got my welcome hug, she was usually looking over my shoulder to check and see what kind of car I was driving.

This interest extended into boats, when our family would take our annual summer trips to Canada. Her ability to identify boats was so good, that at the age of 6, after hearing a tinny rumble off in the distance over the lake, she would announce with supreme confidence “Here comes Bob in the 25.” And she was always spot on. And then she would run down to the dock, a welcoming committee you could always count on.

Her biggest dream in Canada was to drive the boat like the big kids. When she finally was granted her boating license, it became difficult to pry the steering arm out of her hands, but if we insisted, she would relent cheerfully – she was a generous soul. And if your boating skills were rudimentary, she would be happy to teach you.

She loved learning and exploring, and her school and friends were immensely important to her. In addition to becoming an expert in the fine art of making scrambled eggs and blueberry pancakes, she shared with us important lessons that she had been taught in school. Once she was asked what she had learned in Kindergarten that year, and she replied, very solemnly, “I learned not to bite and scratch.”

She loved the water, going snorkeling, and had even for the first time last summer successfully gotten up on water skis. She was scared of Daddy Longlegs, but very little else. Animals were her friends, from the baby chicks she raised to her beloved dogs.

Esme was a born artist. Those of you who know her parents wouldn’t be surprised to know that she was blessed with a lifetime’s worth of creativity.

She was a cellist, a guitarist, and a singer. She loved Bach, the Beach Boys, and High School Musical. She grew up surrounded by music and books. We were always reading to her, even as a little baby. Often after the story was over, she could be found outside walking in circles retelling the stories to herself in a million different imaginative ways. Sometimes we were pulled into the story, and played the ugly stepsister to her Cinderella or scullery boy in her royal castle in the sky. As she started to choose her own books to read, her favorites ranged from the Little House Books, to The Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, and Twilight.

It’s apparent, from the number of people here, and the messages from all who came in contact with her. that Esme was a tremendously gifted people person. The bond she forged with the people in her life was truly amazing. I always knew that I had a very special bond with Esme, because we had such a great friendship, and loved to talk to each other and hang out. However I have a feeling that most of us thought that, that we all knew that we were important to her and that she liked being with us. And that was truly a gift, this gift of making us feel special and loved, and it came from the deepest, richest, most essential part of her soul. She loved people. Meeting them, talking to them, learning about them, and sharing with them about herself and her interests. I loved to check in with her with a chat or a phone call, and hear about everything she was up to, what she just did together with friends or family, and how much fun it had been. And it was always fun! She brought a spark to the air around her and if you were hanging out with Esme you were having fun and you were just happy to be around her and share that gift.

That spirit was so infectious - Esme got so fired up, so enthusiastic, about everything she did in life. Esme taught us not to take life for granted. Even the very simplest things were cause for pleasure, such as riding the subway in Boston or programming her father’s mobile phone. She just loved to do stuff, get involved, go visiting, get people going on some activity like a singalong or a board game. Her enthusiasm carried over to the people around her, we could all benefit from trying to live life with more of Esme’s spark.

Esme’s life was full of love, friendships, family and freedom. She was playful, imaginative, and deeply engaged with the people she was surrounded by. She was a family girl, and her family was most important to her.

But Esme taught us that everyone is many things to many people. She was a daughter and granddaughter, a sister, a neice, a cousin, and an aunt, but she was also a friend, a student, a young woman. As her family, we’ve always known how special Esme was from the day she was born, but even so it has been wonderful, and so healing, to hear so many stories from her friends from school about how giving, funny, spirited and kind she was. From how she met Sam and became good friends after he spilled milk on her, how she was always willing to sit with and befriend the lonely kid sitting by himself, how she stuck up for kids being bullied in the hallways, how she made friends all over the school, boys, girls, older kids, younger kids, even teachers. She was better friends with many adults than many adults are with each other.

I know that everybody who knew Esme, even for just a few minutes, could think of 10, 100 or even a 1,000 other things that she was, but the thing we miss the most now that Esme is not here, is not who she was but the ongoing person who Esme was becoming, every year, every day, every second. We were all so excited to see Esme grow and explore herself and the world around her, to see the new amazing woman this girl who we all knew and loved would become. She would have knocked us out.

And this is why her loss is so devastating – it’s not just a loss of what was, but a loss of what could become. A loss of incredible potential. This has left an enormous hole in our hearts. We want her back so badly. We want her back, to see her again, to watch her grow, to grow with her, to see the unique paths this unique person would take.

Faced with such a senseless crime and losing someone you loved so much, it is easy to feel that your world has lost its meaning and to focus on the anger and despair. However, it is important to remember that the sum of a person’s life cannot be measured from their final moments. There are none of us who would trade the 13 years that we had with Esme, that Esme had with herself and the world around her, just so that we could avoid feeling the way we do now. They were great years, and Esme’s joyful spirit was freely given to everyone she met, such that we all became better people for knowing her. Though it was short, we are endlessly grateful for the time and love we shared with Esme.

The outpouring of grief, love, friendship, support, of memories and well-wishes in these days has been phenomenal and inspiring. We all know how special she was to her friends and family but we have nonetheless been heartened by how many friends she had, how special she was to them, how shocked and grieved they are and the extent that they have now come forward to offer their condolences, their grief and their support in this extremely difficult time. It seems that everybody who knew her was touched by her gift and now is deeply saddened by her passing. And though it is very difficult, our memories and the spirit of Esme that we all share have inspired us to a celebration of her life and spirit, with musical tributes, art, poetry, thoughts and remembrances. This is what life is, what love is, and never let anybody ever tell you that there is no real goodness in the world: we have Esme’s life and the love of the people around her as proof of that. Hold that, keep it, treasure it, remember it, think on it every day of your life and bring that spirit to everything you do and the world becomes a better and better place in return.

Dirgegroove for Esme Lou

Spontaneous improvisational music from March 13, a few days post-tragedy. Nick Toombs, 12-string guitar; Brian Kenney, guitar; Ed Gutfreunde, congas; and Brad Kenney on Esme's cello.

Scenes from a Cincinnati Christmas

An Explosion of Love and Light

We want to say a few words about our daughter Esme Louise Kenney. This tragedy has caused us all unspeakable pain and anguish. But Esme was an extremely positive, open and caring person. When we think of young people, we would hate to see this tragedy hurt people’s ability to see life in a loving, caring way.

The last few days of her life were among the most positive, with her brother and uncle in town, a good guitar lesson and a sense of accomplishment after finishing several projects at school. She felt so good and it was such a beautiful early spring day that she did an unusual thing for her: she went for a jog across from our house, which ultimately led to her demise. Finally, and we did not expect this, the community’s overwhelming response to her death has lessened our pain. From kids in her class having the courage to call us and offer their condolences and offer help in any way, to church communities (and we mean plural), to our local community where we live, to her Owl community and school community, it has helped us to remember our basic belief that most people are good at heart and are capable of random acts of kindness to offset the random acts of violence.

We are overwhelmed with the love and support we have received from family, friends and even total strangers. We are so touched and fortified and thank you all. I wish to share this outpouring of love with the other families who lost their daughters, sisters, friends to this man. Thinking of her murderer, I cannot wrap my mind around the kind of pain, hate and evil that must be in his heart to have committed such heinous acts on not just my baby but several other young girls as well. Though I cannot understand his hate and insanity, I do know that we must not meet this with our own hate. I appeal to all to instead embrace Esme’s way, which was love and kindness and positivity. In the words of St. Francis Assisi, “Lord make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love. Where there is injury, pardon. Where there is doubt, faith. Where there is despair, hope. Where there is sadness, joy.”

When I feared bad things happening to my Esme, this just seemed too extreme. It is something that happens in the newspaper. You know I worried about her getting hit by a car when she went out to get the mail or worried she would drown in the lake up in Canada but this ... this just seemed like such an extreme remote possibility in the spectrum of parental nightmares. I find my mind working within archetypal frames. My Esme was such a good and loving person and he so extremely sinister, it’s like a clash of magnetic forces. I can’t help but think that what happened Saturday was that such a bright light has collided with this extreme malevolent force, and I want to believe that what he actually did was not to snuff her light out but to cause an explosion of love and light that will embed a shard of goodness and kindness into all the hearts of those that remember Esme Kenney. He cannot win.

Withered Rose/Rockabye ("Studio" Version)

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She whom you have loved and lost

is no longer where she was
She is wherever you are





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