First Presbyterian showing Kenan Tower w/ Rooster (lo-res)
I thought it would be fun to share this email I sent Dr. Thompson after attending his 11:00 service Sunday. Clearly, Ernie is a man with a sense of humor and irony, for although he does not seem possessed of an excitable nature like I am, he's most friendly and welcoming, and has mentioned that my family (near and distant branches) have long been associated with his congregation, and in fact still support it. He's invited me back, and I believe I will accept the invitation, although I might take in the earlier service in Kenan Chapel -- not because of the name, but because the later service seemed to have a narcotizing effect on me, and I'm hoping the earlier service is a little more lively -- not that I'm criticizing. I'm just beginning to learn what Presbyterianism is all about.
In other news, three prominent Wilmington residents who know Tom (TSK III), have confirmed with him that he has been supporting me and my quest all along, although not with money. Thank God for that! Occasional monetary assistance is what God invented NEAR relatives for, although in my case, with the exception of Jane, they've proven to be defective, so far.
We'll see what happens overnight. Tomorrow morning, with all the rest of my primary life mission completed successfully, I get to begin playing God's Avenging Angel -- and I must say, it's going to be amplified since the amounts are so niggerdly, BIG DAD is cooking up some serious brimstone for me to deliver to them. HAHAHAHAHA!!!
I mean here only Bill, Ruth Anne, & Mike Kenan, as well as Julia Duffy.
Well, here's the email. Enjoy! (I sure hope HE did. THAT was the point.)
*****THIS JUST IN***** OK, I've known it for half an hour, but it's so lame, I don't know what to think of it. The less, the better, I guess. But ONCE AGAIN, my underwear and socks were stolen from my laundry as I did it (for the first time at The Soap Box laundramat/bar on Front St.). Even the thugs who smashed my car window right before I left Puerto Vallarta took my underwear and socks -- THE DIRTY ONES. Well, since I've cut all their balls off, this is the best harm to me they can do. Pity.
Dear Ernie,
I suppose I am to address you this way, given your email address. I was raised Catholic (I left that church in high school about 40 years ago), so am not familiar with proper Presbyterian address forms for clergy. My intent is to loosen up a bit and write in a humorous style here, but all that I write will be truthful.
I am a creative writer who once worked as Tennessee Williams’ assistant, and in fact have written a memoir about my experience which was to have been published last spring by Alyson Books – until they tanked in the sour economy. OK, it was due to politics.
I’m one of those troublesome Kenans who landed in Wilmington in the 1730s, and who were then all Presbyterians, helped to found your congregation, and then supported y’all substantially. Actually, the big contributors were descended from a different immigrant brother than am I. Still, it is this heritage that caused me to have interest in your congregation.
That, and the fact that the other day I was contemplating what I learned in comparative religion about Presbyterianism while studying the “Protestant Revolt” in Catholic grade school. (You should have seen the color graphic of Protestants running helter-skelter with pitchforks and torches which they had just applied to the cathedral -- LOL!!!) But all that aside, the study was serious (I think).
Presbyterianism was said to have been unique in its belief in a doctrine of predestination. While I thought of this (with visions of dancing torch-bearers in my head), it occurred to me that y’all might be just as smart and tricky as the Jews. I mean, Jewish leaders claimed that God said they were the Chosen People, so naturally, believing it was the WORD OF GOD, the Jews had to behave that way.
Nice trick!!!
Presbyterians, if predestined to heaven or hell, would mostly choose for themselves a heavenly predestination, I presume. So the trick works exactly the same way.
Excellente, senor!
Ya don’t mess with a Kenan when he gets on a patriotic tear! Ask the ghost of Gen. James Kenan.
I digress – and have destroyed the grammatical structure of that one long sentence to boot!
Anyway, I happened into the garden on the north side of your parking lot and chanced on my first cousin and her late husband’s stone. Col. Fred Smith was a fine patriot – even taught at the National War College in DC, if I recall correctly. His surviving wife, Nell, is actually near, but less than, my father’s age (92), and they enjoyed much music together in their youth, which they shared due to some of the privations they had to endure together during the Great Depression here in the Wilmington area. I was kind of hoping I’d run into Nell at this morning’s service, but if she was there, I missed her. I was the tallest guy in the congregation this morning, 6’ 11”.
So I’d like to thank you for the chocolate welcome-bread that a very friendly young lady gave me – and your support of Good Shepherd Ministries, which has fed me on several occasions. This is BY FAR the most welcoming, up-beat, and practical assistance to homeless that I have found during this temporary, politically-caused period of homelessness that I have now endured for four months – three in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico (while pursuing research into Tennessee Williams and how the movie of his play, NIGHT OF THE IGUANA, put the town on the map), and then one both in Raleigh, where my parents put me out on the street after promising to help me, but being offended by my political views, called the cops on me instead, and now here. (We had swastikas on the dinner plates growing up in the 1950s and 60s.
It is my contention that my mother blackmailed my father into marrying her to hide her activities behind the Kenan name. Key Jews in Atlanta confirmed to me in 1990, that my parents are the top Nazis in the US, more recently I have been told by several that my mother is Dick Cheney’s boss and reports to the Pope – she DID have several private audiences with Pope John Paul II in the 80s and 90s.)
I have already spoken with the director of Good Shepherd and will, once living under a roof instead of in my car, mentor homeless writers. It is my experience that learning to write one’s story (past) and/or dreams (future) is an excellent way to organize and train the mind toward practical concerns and become employable – or even a successful writer.
Now, frankly, I do not know if I will join your congregation, but I do want you to know that besides all the good works your congregation does, I’d like to congratulate whoever placed the rooster atop the Kenan tower. Religion is best when it serves as a wake-up call rather than the burden of guilt over that Old Bloody Cross. Jeshua (his Hebrew name) was reported to have said we could do what he did – and more. He told the physician to heal himself. He was a very cool guy!
I am fully aware that my story sounds unbelievable, but three doctors now have certified me as not having mood swings, hallucinations, or a violent disposition. I pray I am wrong, but facts support my contentions. Also, Thomas S. Kenan III has been a tremendous help to me. He is a trustee of UNC, and head of the wealthier branch of the family now. He and I had the same boyfriend here in Wilmington in the 1980s – although at separate times (HA-HA! No three-ways.) That’s how I had the nerve to contact such a powerful man.
You can read more about me on my websites:
scottkenan.blogspot.com (political blog)
All best,
Scott David Kenan
New and Proud Wilmington resident
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