The leader of our little band died in early July. He was 93. When I was a small boy, I would go to the barbershop alone and the barber would always say, "Aren't you Ken Schultz' boy? He's a good man."
My dad was widely known for his optimism and kindness toward others. And that was never more evident than during his lengthy illnesss. When Ken showed up for dialysis, everyone was happy to see him. Take him to the hospital and the entire staff treated him like a long-lost friend. Why? Kindness. Dad gave kindness to others and received it back. He was quick to compliment, slow to complain. He took an interest in others and could recite their stories with percision because he had listened well.
When dad died, the funeral director said usually only a handful of people attend funerals for those of his age. Dad's funeral packed the church with young and old, every story told spoke of his kindness, which was deeply rooted in his faith. He didn't talk theology, he lived out his faith. Even though I'm nearly 62, I'm glad to be Ken Schultz' boy.
