From Tom Franceschini

There aren’t many weeks that go by that I don’t think of Ken. Every time I drive down Kesselring Ave. to visit my mother I can’t help but remember all of the great times we had as kids in that neighborhood. From the age of 11 to 15 there weren’t many days that went by that Ken and I didn’t hang out. There was Little League baseball practice for Carl King or FDA, wiffle ball games in the backyard, and hanging out on summer nights with the rest of the neighborhood kids. Just writing this brings back so many more memories: baseball card shows, Dungeons & Dragons, The Galaxy Arcade, the Rodney Village Pool, camping out in the backyard, Mrs. Motley’s 6th grade class, and the Spengler family cat (I can’t recall the cat’s name [Kristin: our cat was named "Muffy"] but it was huge). I’m not sure why it happened, but as we grew older, Ken and I grew apart. I’ll never forget when I got the news of Ken’s passing. Although we weren’t as close as we had once been, I couldn’t help but feel I had lost my best friend.