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Obituary

“He Actually Was a Halfway Decent Carpenter . . . If You Could Convince Him To Show Up”

Daughter writes a sarcastic obituary for her father

Summing up a life in sentences. (Image via The Boston Globe)

Being a masochist, every so often I’ll skim the obituaries. I suppose I just want to make sure that when someone my age dies, they still describe it as tragic.

What strikes me about death notices is that they are dull reads, almost without exception. That is not to say that most people lead dull lives; it’s just that nobody thinks that a personality is worth memorializing. We have become accustomed to summing up our lives in lists, even though we live our lives in stories.

I don’t fully understand why we think it is respectful to write a formulaic, boring obituary for the people we love the most. Apparently, neither did Kenneth Joseph Pluhar Jr.’s daughter.

What follows is the best obituary I’ve read in years. It is a man’s life, with all the crass and color preserved. It’s exactly the sort of thing I want written about me — just not for another two or three hundred years.

KENNETH PLUHAR OBITUARY

Kenneth Kenne Joseph Pluhar, Jr

Alton, IL — Kenne died in ICU at St Anthony’s after losing a battle with sepsis — at the age of 62, after 50 years of crap-starting with everyone and everything he could find to fight in Alton, IL, this hard as nails, redneck, SOB finally found something meaner and more stubborn than himself.

Like any good card-carrying, ray ban wearing, camo coverall lovin’ redneck, Kenne had 3 true loves: hunting, fishing, and drinking. He liked “both kinds of music — country AND western”.

Like every sad cowboy song, he couldn’t stay married, but that didn’t keep him from trying.

Again. And again. He had a total of 4 legal marriages (and divorces) and one common law marriage under his belt — that we know of.

His first marriage, to Tara (Gomez) Berry, produced his one and only child (again, that we know of), Halliea Milner, of whom he was extremely proud, mostly because she is almost as big of a pain in the ass as he was, and she kept the pain-in-the-ass line going by giving him his only grandchild, Sidnee Milner. He was preceded in death by his mother, Connie Sue (McKinnon) Donnelson, who, til the day he died, he called “his mommy” — proof positive that even the biggest assholes (jerks) have a soft side, you just may have to dig deeper to find it.

His father, Kenneth Joseph Pluhar, Sr, is still around, though, and was sure to teach Kenne the best ways to be emotionally unavailable and yet overly sensitive, all rolled into one. It’s a strong family trait passed down generation to generation.

Sharing in the Pluhar family heritage are Kenne’s siblings — all of whom managed to out live him, which is no surprise seeing as he was equal parts dare devil and lush — I mean, seriously, he probably invented the phrase — “Hey, y’all, watch this”.

From first to last, they all loved him til the end, which is a miracle seeing as he took the idea of being “hard to love” as a personal challenge.

Diane Meyers, Eddie Pluhar, Amy Eernisse, Susie Bizaiillion, and step sister Claire Weygandt who was fortunate enough to grow up completely separately, so she is likely messed up in other, non-Pluhar ways. He is also survived by a plethora of nieces and nephews that he terrorized and traumatized in countless and original manners — truly, it was survivorship when it came to Uncle Kenne.

Originally from Oakridge, TN Kenne had a green thumb, was outdoorsy and was a skilled carpenter — this meant that he was great at growing his own weed and was champion of “hide and seek for $2k a week” when he worked for the union.

He actually was a halfway decent carpenter — people bragged about his “craftsmanship” — if you could convince him to show up and work, which most people weren’t capable of accomplishing.

Kenne spent an inordinate amount of the last 5 decades on his buddy’s farm, and if you didn’t pay close attention you may have missed the fact that his non-sexual-life-partner AKA best friend AKA Mike Norris actually owned the farm, not Kenne. He didn’t allow details like that to get in the way of a good story, like that time he actually saved someone’s life by being prepared for the end of times and commie attacks. Kenne was good at just about anything he tried to be good at and was wicked smart — but that didn’t stop him from trying his best to do absolutely nothing except drink, smoke, and listen to music.

We will be celebrating his life the good old fashioned Kenne way — with a party at the Woodriver Moose 730 Wesley Drive, Woodriver, IL. Friday, March 24.

Doors open at 5:30, there will be food & beer that you don’t have to pay for (Kenne’s favorite) at 6:00 and people will start talking crap about Kenne and his life around 7.

Although there will be music and mayhem, don’t plan to stay too long; we are going to kick you out at 10pm. Save your money — please don’t send anything (flowers, donations, etc); take a trip to the Dollar Store in Kenne’s honor instead.

Published by The Telegraph on Mar. 10, 2023.

Enjoyed yourself? Then read this, Stupid:

This is a quick, hilarious read by Pat Romito LaPointe:

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