When I think of our old neighbor Ken Horvath, a passage from Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” comes to mind.
“And it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge.”
That was said of Ebeneezer Scrooge AFTER the three Ghosts of Christmas had visited him and transformed the old curmudgeon into a man of both mercy and mirth. I don’t think that Ken ever needed their kind of nightmarish nudges for him to honor the Yuletide — and every other holiday and change of season for that matter.
To borrow another phrase (or movie title), Ken, who died of a heart attack in June, was “a man for all seasons.”
He was a New Year’s baby — born on the first day of 1950 — and went on to treat every day of the year that followed as if it were a gift
His and wife Janet’s yard spilled over in the spring with tulips, which bloomed in between his statues of animals and angels and bird houses and bird baths. Some might have thought his display of color and creation verged on gaudy; others just saw the passion of a man who enjoyed brightening up his neighborhood and world.
In the summer, more pots and hanging baskets of flowers would be displayed throughout his yard. Then in the fall, the pumpkins and the hay and the mums took over. This autumn, a sign above a little group of pumpkins reads: “In Remembrance of Kenneth. 1950-2023.”
The accompanying picture of that sign and yard doesn’t do his handiwork justice but was the inspiration for me to finally write about Ken.
But it was always winter and the Christmas season when Ken’s enthusiasm for beautiful decorations and good cheer were on full display.
He and Janet put up more than 40 Christmas trees in their home — many real, many not; a few that rose to the ceiling and others that fit neatly on a side table. He even had a model train, not under a tree but high above his kitchen on a ledge.
And what were decorations if they weren’t enjoyed by scores of people. Both he and Janet enjoyed hosting parties during Christmas and other holidays, or any old day for that matter, when people could come and enjoy life with them. In the summer, he even set up a tiki bar in his driveway.
If guests wanted to make any kind of donation to Pet Refuge, all the better.
Ken’s father had been a groundskeeper at Notre Dame and Ken had grown up just down the street from campus. He apparently inherited his green thumb from his dad.
But while his plants and decorations — even including pink flamingoes on one side of his house — may have been confined to his yard, his kindness knew no bounds.
He was one of the nicest people I have ever known — gentle and soft-spoken and always positive. I am a witness to his goodwill that could lift up people and make them feel noticed.
Every neighborhood should have a Ken Horvath. Every yard should have a gardener like him. And every Christmas should have a jolly elf livening up a room.
Christmas won’t be the same this year without him — but I’m thinking his spirit will be there in full force.