We said goodbye to John Robertson Kinnett at First Presbyterian Church this morning. That beautiful room was filled by a great collection of people and I particularly enjoyed seeing Claire Kinnett Tate, Bright Kinnett Wright, Frazer Kinnett, Jean Kinnett Oliver, John Robertson (“Bob”) Kinnett, III, and Josephine (“Jodie”) Kinnett Klumpenhower and their cadre of young people, all with that very strong family resemblance. My memories of the Kinnett family were when the six siblings were small children. My father worked for many years at Kinnett Dairies and because of the Kinnett’s emphasis on family, I got some priceless time with my father during many hot summers in rural Georgia. My daddy drove ice cream trucks and milk trucks through the sun blanched region around Columbus.
He would nudge me out of a deep sleep in the early morning, well before the sun and we’d go to breakfast. The smell of coffee and bacon, a cold glass of Kinnett Dairies milk and hours and miles in an open-sided dairy truck, weaving a trail in and out of shady gravel parking lots, and under the boughs of giant oaks. Dad would read the order sheet, and we’d spring out of the truck and into the frosty cloud of supercooled air coming through from a place every boy should get the chance to explore.
He taught me how to pull the orders, stack them on the hand truck and then came the best part. I got to watch him interact with all kinds of people. Large and small grocery store owners and proprietors, convenience stores clerks, school cafeteria workers, restauranteurs and every kind of curb and vegetable market clerk and he never met a stranger. He didn’t know any of their names, but he could and did tell me stories about them. Then, we’d roll back into the dairy in the afternoon and go up the stairs and into the business office, where my left handed dad would absolutely smoke a manual calculator and hand-draw big gothic looking letters and numbers as he checked up for the route. He always took great pride in his job at the dairy and I am thankful for the strong influence John Kinnett had on my family’s sense of family.
This morning, my mom, Ann, met me at the Columbus and the Valley offices and we walked to the church. After the visitation, we walked on north and west from the church to Uptown Vietnam Cuisine where I successfully connected someone I love to something I love. The wonton soup there has coaxed my taste buds into full flower and it was fun watching mom enjoy the dish so much while being frustrated by how best to deliver it to her mouth. You know from the way that soup smells that it is hardwired to hit the ahh center of your brain. Everyone has their own style of eating it. I like to watch people who have obviously spent their entire lives using chopsticks. Mom and I had a nice day together and it is pretty special being as old I am and being able to share a meal and several hours with the person who brought you into the world almost 65 years ago.
My surgical wounds are healing, the antibiotic is returning health to my gut and reports from my latest scans and lab work are encouraging. My kidney function is high, the holes in my spine that kidney cancer had devoured are being replaced by recalcified bone and I appear to be on a trajectory to be able to have surgical/radiological intervention to stabilize my spine and be returned at some point to more robust health.
I’ve been used to hearing bad news for the whole of my recent history — Eight. And. A. Half. Years. Interspersed in these months there are pockets where, despite your physical limitations, you get delicious slices of the summer peach of the cancer timeline. No drugs. Diminished side effects. The total eclipsing of your newest, clothes horse, food-centered normal over the hot, angry ogre of chronic disease, just at that moment when you can take off the protective glasses and bask in the golden glow of a 360-degree sunset. I feel total, open-armed thankfulness for this day and a warmth radiating from my bones that only hope can ignite. Fear is cold, but easily driven out when hope is in the house.
Ann Blondheim says
I feel the hope and joy in your words. ❤️
Susan Morgan says
I, too, feel the hope in your words, Mike. We all cherish those bits of normalcy and a respite from illness, no matter how brief.
Patti Trotter says
I can tell you that Ann relished that time with you. Mommas need dates with their adult sons. I’m glad you were able to enjoy lunch. I prayed this morning for you to be able to enjoy eating.
I so enjoyed the stories about John and his days with Kinnett. Great writing, Mike. I could see it in my mind.
ginny pierson says
What a beautiful tribute to your Mom and Dad, and a beautiful reminder to all of us to bask in the glory of HOPE! Thank you for sharing so eloquently…you are a treasure and God is honoring you and our prayers. <3
Gwen Ruff says
Mike, thank you for sharing your heart. You bless me in so many ways….love to you and Jill!
Jim Crossee says
Thanks for the update. I have already memorized, and will undoubtedly frequently use, your closing sentence. It inspires me. Shalom
Connie Jackson says
“………..where despite your physical limitations, you get delicious slices of the summer peach of the cancer timeline. No drugs. Diminished side effects.” I had to read this many times because it is so beautifully descriptive – I may have peach juice dripping down my chin. You are a true son of the South! Thanks always for your wonderful wordsmithing.
Linda Cliff says
Mike, so happy to hear you are feeling better and healing. Prayers continue for you and Jill. Much love!
Richard illges says
Beautiful. I believe you may have just experienced a taste, a hint of heaven. A reunion with old friends. A beautiful room filled with wonderful people. A great meal with your Mom. A beautiful blue sky day. Hope is coming Mike for all of us who walk as a believer in Jesus as Lord. He gave you a sweet moment today. Imagine, just imagine, what the real deal will be like!
You continue to inspire…
Marilyn Buice says
To know that you had a comfortable and sweet day is great beginning to my quiet Sunday morning. Hope your Sunday is special.
Chuck Cumiskey says
Wow! Reading that was more comforting than falling asleep on my down pillow. Congrats on the steady recovery, Mike. It’s been a long time coming and I’m sure there’s still a long way to go, but with an attitude like yours things just keep looking brighter and brighter. We’re wth ya, buddy!
Callie says
Music to my soul to read these words! Filled with joy and gratitude that you are once again on the path to NED. Can’t wait to toast the good news with you soon. Much love, peace, strength and health to you and Jill.
The Fletch's says
Sweet Mike. Loved reading about the early morning milk runs with your dad, sharing the Vietnamize wonton soup with your lovely mom and feeling the hope in your words. You are definitely the man V. We love you both!
Edie Fiquett says
I love this story! What cherished memories with your Daddy as you were growing up. You painted a cozy picture on my mind! Blessings for renewed health! ❤️
Kim Farmer says
I’m glad you and your Mom had such a wonderful day together.
Sherrie says
Beautiful writing and so very happy to sense the mojo returning. Prayers and love as always…
Jack Basset says
You wrote: “I feel total, open-armed thankfulness for this day and a warmth radiating from my bones that only hope can ignite. Fear is cold, but easily driven out when hope is in the house.”
I’m so glad to see that y’all have “hope in the house!” I love you both.