(From Simpson Funeral Home)James Vencil Kenney, passed away on November 6, 2020, just shy of 88 years old.
James had a few other names he went by as well. A son called him Dad, three boys called him Grandpa, five sisters called him brother, dozens more called him Uncle, hundreds called him friend, and farmers across the four states called him a godsend (more on that later). Everyone has memories of James, both big and small, that will stick with them forever.
His son will miss the regular emails of dash cam videos James would send of some inattentive driver he saw on the road. He loved to drive (20,000 miles a year) so he saw many of them.
Seriously, there are a lot of bad drivers out there but he wasn’t one of them. You don’t see many 87 year olds behind the wheel of a 400hp Dodge Challenger, but if you did, it was probably him. He was always the cautious driver and never one to participate in any sort of highway shenanigans, much to the disappointment of the driver of that black Mustang who wanted to race at a stop light, but James just ignored him. (He sent me the dash cam video of that btw).
His daughter-in-law will miss her conversations with him about expiration dates on food. She firmly believes in them while he insisted they are just suggestions, frequently reminding us that eggs don’t go bad, they just go down in grade. Neither ever convinced the other so she would send him home with a couple of Walmart sacks of food slightly past the expiration date from the pantry. He would go home and eat them and promptly email back that it was delicious. She’ll also miss sending goody bags of desserts that he often couldn’t wait until he got home to eat, so he’d eat them in the aforementioned Challenger.
His grandsons will miss his magician-like qualities, such as his ability to make his car start from the front door of the house. “Who’s gonna start my car?” he would say as he was leaving. The boys would run to the front door and shout “Start car!”, and then be amazed when the car would magically start. They’ll miss him being first to arrive to their birthday parties and the last to leave and our weekly Sunday breakfast with him. He showed them videos from his doorbell camera of squirrels playing on his porch. He either ordered a plate of biscuits and gravy or French toast and he always one drank coffee, always black and no refills, no matter how many times the waitress would ask.
His sisters will miss his random pop in visits where he would steal some of their onions and tomatoes from the garden because his garden never grew as well. They will also miss his general ornery nature that brought a smile and a laugh to everyone.
His nieces and nephews will miss his stories and ability to talk to anyone about anything. Everyone loved seeing him at any family gathering.
His friends will miss their fishing trips to Roaring River and those bi-weekly lunches at Burger King where $2.50 will get you 10 chicken nuggets and a cup of coffee. Maybe a diet of slightly expired food, chicken nuggets, and coffee are the secret to a happy life well into your 80’s?
And the farmers, they may miss him the most. If you’re curious why there aren’t stray cattle roaming around the four state area, it’s likely because of James. He spent 22 years in the Air Force working on airplane electronics, and retired at the rank of Chief Master Sergeant.
His daughter-in-law will miss her conversations with him about expiration dates on food. She firmly believes in them while he insisted they are just suggestions, frequently reminding us that eggs don’t go bad, they just go down in grade. Neither ever convinced the other so she would send him home with a couple of Walmart sacks of food slightly past the expiration date from the pantry. He would go home and eat them and promptly email back that it was delicious. She’ll also miss sending goody bags of desserts that he often couldn’t wait until he got home to eat, so he’d eat them in the aforementioned Challenger.
His grandsons will miss his magician-like qualities, such as his ability to make his car start from the front door of the house. “Who’s gonna start my car?” he would say as he was leaving. The boys would run to the front door and shout “Start car!”, and then be amazed when the car would magically start. They’ll miss him being first to arrive to their birthday parties and the last to leave and our weekly Sunday breakfast with him. He showed them videos from his doorbell camera of squirrels playing on his porch. He either ordered a plate of biscuits and gravy or French toast and he always one drank coffee, always black and no refills, no matter how many times the waitress would ask.
His sisters will miss his random pop in visits where he would steal some of their onions and tomatoes from the garden because his garden never grew as well. They will also miss his general ornery nature that brought a smile and a laugh to everyone.
His nieces and nephews will miss his stories and ability to talk to anyone about anything. Everyone loved seeing him at any family gathering.
His friends will miss their fishing trips to Roaring River and those bi-weekly lunches at Burger King where $2.50 will get you 10 chicken nuggets and a cup of coffee. Maybe a diet of slightly expired food, chicken nuggets, and coffee are the secret to a happy life well into your 80’s?
And the farmers, they may miss him the most. If you’re curious why there aren’t stray cattle roaming around the four state area, it’s likely because of James. He spent 22 years in the Air Force working on airplane electronics, and retired at the rank of Chief Master Sergeant.
When he returned home, he started a side business repairing fence chargers for farmers who kept fences electrified and cattle from escaping. He did this for 40 years. His repairs were fast, and saved farmers hundreds of dollars each time. The number of chargers he repaired in 40 years is probably well into the thousands. He could do it in his sleep and he often did repairs on site from the trunk of his car (yes, the trunk of the Challenger).
Some farmers would try to pull one over on him and get a free repair, but it never worked. He always knew what they were trying to pull, but he probably went ahead and fixed it for them anyway because that’s just how he was. He would often say, “Farmers are gonna miss me when I retire.”
Well, it’s that time now. It’s time to retire.
James created 87 years of wonderful memories for so many people. It was a life worth celebrating and we want to celebrate it properly.
Because of COVID, we’re going to hold off on services until we can give him a service that we all really want to give. He certainly wouldn’t want anyone else getting sick. When the time is right, we’ll all get together and celebrate James with stories, hugs, and everything else we will need. Until then, share a story about James to someone. We know you have a lot of them. Cremation arrangements are under the direction of Simpson Funeral Home in Webb City. Visit www.simpsonfh.com for online condolences.
Well, it’s that time now. It’s time to retire.
James created 87 years of wonderful memories for so many people. It was a life worth celebrating and we want to celebrate it properly.
Because of COVID, we’re going to hold off on services until we can give him a service that we all really want to give. He certainly wouldn’t want anyone else getting sick. When the time is right, we’ll all get together and celebrate James with stories, hugs, and everything else we will need. Until then, share a story about James to someone. We know you have a lot of them. Cremation arrangements are under the direction of Simpson Funeral Home in Webb City. Visit www.simpsonfh.com for online condolences.
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