Kenneth Friedman Obituary

Dear Cousins Pam & Jill,



Even though I did not know your father, I want to extend my condolences to the both of you. Both of you were so warm when I met you at our family reunions.



May the memories of your father remain cherished in your hearts forever.



Love,



Cousin Richard Hoffman

Bailey Silverstein & Alter Hofman's great-grandson

Somewhere on the otherside, there is a card game. Started by an enthusactic Jewish guy, in a Santa Claus suit, with winning Kentucky Derby tickets in his pocket. Along with some losing ones also. Shoving all his chips into the pot, saying, "I didn't come into this game checking!"



For me to attempt writing for the word master, is ludicrus. Ken made us smile. Something we don't do enough. He knew the importance. As sad as we are today, there is something KB did or said that brings a smile to our lips even now. There can be no better legacy.



Celebrate his life. Remember, any food "is for human's and people only." Ken told me many times "I never liked you anyway, so shut up." So I am.



Remember his mantra whenever family and/or friends get together, "Come early, stay late!"



We will miss you.

Deepest sympathy to your entire family. It was a pleasure working with your dad for the limited time I did, at Hanley Dawson Cadillac. He was a good man and a good salesman. Respectifully, Mani M. Lozano

Our condolences from the family of Keith, Dolores, Jeremy, Brian and Sara Kostecka.

Pamela

I read with great delight, the magnificent words in which you and your sister so aptly described what your father meant to you. It is very clear he was a man that attracted the deepest respect from all who knew him, their lives were enriched by just knowing him, of that I'm certain. My deepest condolences to you and your family, your feeling of loss and pain is deep now and will be for a while, until the sweet memories of him take over and live prominently in your mind and the mind of your family for generations to come. Your dear friend Carmine

Naturally, we are flooded with memories at this time. While they are very personal and might seem obscure to you, sharing them now seems important.

Our dad had a magic ear. Shiny coins were pulled out of it to the delight of all the neighborhood children on Elm St. He was larger than life, handsomer than any movie star, stronger than a team of oxen, defender of the underdog, storyteller extraordinaire and the world's greatest dad. He drove a wallpapered car, sang Sloop John B, never sat out a hand in Boo Ray, gave Indian burns, indulged in hot fudge cake roll, wore clothes tailered by Omar the Tentmaker and was our first and foremost teacher.

Daddy was a writer, the family author whose gifts to us on special occasions were handcrafted poems; precious treasures written with love and the source of cherished memories for us. He was Golden Arrow, the coolest Indian Guide to his Wild Rose and Little Buttercup. He taught us how to swim, how to ride our bicycles, drive a car, to fight for what we believed in--when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em. Although he never folded 'em.

Sundays were family days. We voted on where to go and each excursion was an adventure. Old Town to walk around and of course stop for some fudge. The museums were always a favorite and we were allowed to invite one friend to join us.

Dad would always play the Barbie Game when no one else would indulge us, and always ended up taking Poindexter to the prom!

Winter vacations to Miami Beach where we lived it up at the Fountainbleu, greasing the maitre d's palm to ensure that we got a great table for the Osmond Bros. performance. Kiddie cocktails made us feel grown-up; dancing on Daddy's feet made us feel enchanted, certain that there were no other couples as dashing as we.

He was the quintessential family man, proud of his daughters, bestowing on us nicknames that lasted thru the years--Princess and Button. Truly the man for the job. Insisting that we have only the best and sacrificing to see that it was so. But we always knew that we DID have the best and it had nothing to do with material things. He and mom made a great parenting team.

He loved our family dog, Laddie. And never tucked us in without saying, "Take care of the girls, Laddie."

He taught us by example. He was without prejudice and was not afraid to stand up for his principles. Ever the real life hero.

Family Classics, the Wizard of Oz, staying up to watch the Beatles on Ed Sullivan in the den on East Prairie.

Daddy was so easy to talk to, never making you feel embarrassed about anything. Happily backtracking 100 miles in the car to retrieve a favorite doll that Jill left at a Holiday Inn along the way to Miami Beach.

Dad's patience was boundless, staying up with a smile on many sleepless nights to comfort an anxious daughter; never showing signs of weariness.

Pam has a wallhanging in her home, given to her by her father after a business trip. It reads:

"There are only 2 lasting things that we can leave our children--

One is roots; the other is wings."

Pam uses this quote frequently.

Dad fulfilled this prophecy with grace--the roots he gave his daughters are strong and deep, solid and sturdy. The wings he gave his daughters enabled them to follow their individual dreams, taking different life paths but always knowing where the nest was; always welcomed back with open arms.

We like to think that in his final moments, we were able to give Dad his wings~ sending him off to a painfree, peaceful place where we can see him soaring effortlessly above us, telling us to bet the pot, to take time to smell the flowers, to order dessert and to love and take care of each other.

We love you, Daddy, and we know that, as always, you are saying, "Me more."