My father and I spent a lot of time together when I was young, at the age of 8 I was spending every Friday night and Sunday dinner with him.  

That time we spent together was special, although I was the youngest of four ...it felt like I was an only child.  

We'd heat up frozen dinners and just hang out and watch TV.one of his favorite past times til the day he died. He'd pick me up in his Chevy Monza with phone books piled high in the passenger seat so I could see out of the window, and let me shift the gears while he drove.

There was never a question of whether or not I'd see him on a Friday night, he never cancelled or had other plans.  It was our time ....and I felt loved.

As I grew older during high school the Friday nights ended, but the phone calls didn't.  Every Friday night I'd speak to him.  When I turned 16 he helped teach me how to drive like most parents, and I remember 2 great pieces of advice that I now find myself telling my kids:  don't speed, it's not worth risking your life to get somewhere 2 minutes faster and  how to deal with a tail gaiter if someone is tailgating you, look in your rear view mirror, and if they are drinking something, wait until they have the cup to their lips before you jam on your brakes.  
That is classic Kenney.

When I went off to college my father retired to South Carolina and our time together lessened, but we still talked on the phone often and we saw each other a few times a year. 

He told me to go to college and get a liberal arts degree, "when you start working they will teach you what they want you to know." He was right.

As I got older and began having my own family I didn't see my father as often as I would have liked - but I guess that is how things go in life. I would have liked him to know my boys better and for them to know him better. I would have like to help him be happier if I could have.  

Over the years we had our ups and downs...and some of the downs lasted a long time and they were hard for me as I am sure they were hard for him. 

As you grow older and you become a parent you realize that all that really matters is that somehow you make sure your children know they are loved. Even if at times you don't do the best job of telling them this - if they feel it from the start then you give them the opportunity to be happy and feel like you are worth something....and that is the foundation with which they can build a meaningful life. 

I am so lucky my dad gave me that foundation. I always knew I was loved. No matter how often we spoke or saw each other ...I always had that.  And as I look at my family sitting here and my two sons I know that I would not have my wonderful life without that Certainty of love he gave me and he will always be present in my life. 

I love you dad. I will miss you. I hope you are at peace.....etc.

I'm Keith Bonn, dad's first-born child.  In the last week that I have been looking back at dad's life, from my perspective I think his greatest accomplishment was providing for, and supporting his kids.  Through his hard work at IBM we were able to grow up in great houses in great neighborhoods with great schools.  He provided the majority of my college cost, and helped with our down payment on our first house at age 23.  He was always looking out for us and trying to help us.
I have many fond memories of Dad; summer vacations on Long Island, helping him with home improvements, going to Lime Rock race track with him and his racer buddy Chuck Schroedel, and Christmas's  boy he loved Christmas time, and giving gifts, and watching us open them.  One Christmas I especially remember - I think I was around 12 and had been saving my money for a Honda Mini-Trail.  That Christmas morning, when all of the presents were unwrapped, I went to my stocking to see what was in that, and in there, was a key.  At first, I didn't know what is was for, and then I looked closer at it and it had a Honda logo on it.  Imagine my surprise!  The mini-trail was in the back of the station wagon in the garage.  We took it out, but couldn't get it started.  It was so cold out we brought it into the kitchen.  We tried starting it all day and night.  The next day it was snowing hard, but nevertheless dad drove me and the Honda down to Yonkers to the Honda dealer.  They got it running and on our way back home we got stuck in the snow at the bottom of Hardscrabble Hill.  So, we took the Honda out of the car, I started it up and proceeded to drive up the hill back home and when I turned around to look at Dad he was standing at the bottom of the hill, in the pouring snow, waving.  That was my Dad, always giving.
He had a smart wit, a great sense of humor, and a great laugh.  When dad first found out he had cancer a few months ago he said thank God, now I finally know why I haven't been feeling good.
When I was going through his things in his house I discovered how meticulous he was about recordkeeping, paperwork and notes.  Now I know where I got that from.
Dad moved down to the Carolinas when he retired and unfortunately, I didn't get to see him that often anymore.  But he would religiously call me every Sunday morning at 9:00 am on the button.  I'm going to miss those phone calls.  I'm going to miss you Dad

So sorry for your loss. Jesus wept after the death of his friend Lazarus. We weep àlong with you. His example was written in the Bible to give us hope. John 11:35 
Rom. 15:4

OBITUARIO

Kenneth Gordon Bonn

27 septiembre, 1930 – 4 noviembre, 2017

McEwen Funeral Service-Pineville Chapel

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