As a teenager, I tried to defend the underdog but did very little to help my classmates who had special needs. What’s worse, I would go along to get along - If friends were making fun of these kids, and I justified my righteousness because I wasn’t “actively” contributing to the cruel jokes or mockery.

I hoped no one would notice my indifference, but that wasn’t the case. I noticed. I wanted to do something good or noble in those situations, but I would let my desire to be liked and accepted override my conscience. I carried a secret shame throughout my high school years.

After graduation, I went away to college and expected that I would never face any of those students with special needs again. There was a nagging feeling, though, and I wasn’t sure how to right the wrong. How could I help one of these students after we had all left school? What did they need that I could give as a poor college student?

At the start of my sophomore year, my best friend Benji and I were talking about this feeling and chuckling about the uncanny memory of Kenneth Flournoy, our classmate with special needs who memorized the phone numbers of almost every person from our large school and called each of them on a constant rotation to say hello. Then Benji suggested we take Kenneth out to dinner at a local restaurant, and we determined this would be an act of friendship rather than charity.

That was it. That was the first step in unlocking the answer I had been seeking.

Friendship.

It sounds so simple, but I honestly hadn’t considered that I could freely give of myself in friendship with Kenneth and begin to act the way I should have all along.

We met at El Sombrero in Saginaw, Texas, for some greasy Mexican food and many laughs. We learned about his new janitorial job at the US Bureau of Engraving and Printing and told him stories about college. Kenneth’s number one crush happened to show up that evening for dinner with her family, sparking awesome conversations about girls, dating, sports, high school memories, and dreams of the future. It turns out that evening would forever change my life.

During our remaining college years, Benji and I connected with Kenneth anytime we were back home visiting our families. We started branching out to other restaurants and inviting Kenneth to join us when we met up with friends for bowling, dancing, movie nights, and more. Kenneth also came along for a classic Texas road trip activity - floating the Guadalupe River.

It wasn’t long before Benji and I realized we were calling Kenneth just as much as he was calling us. It wasn’t a surface-level friendship - - we were best friends, and our adventures were just getting started. As I reflect on the significant life moments we’ve experienced with Kenneth over the past 27 years, some stand out above the rest for reasons good, bad, and hilarious.

Kenneth loves Notre Dame football, so we decided to take him to South Bend to watch a game in 2006. We booked the trip without realizing Kenneth had never been on an airplane. The entire trip was a blast, and Kenneth enjoyed the game, the grotto, the local college scene, and some time in Chicago at the start and end of the trip. The successful outcome led to many other college football trips, including visits to Penn State, Tennessee, Alabama, Texas Tech (Benji’s alma mater), and Texas A&M (my old stomping grounds).

We learned so much when we traveled with Kenneth. When it was time to bless our food before a meal, Kenneth might pray loud enough for the crowd of Crack Barrel regulars to stop their conversations and bow in reverence. Kenneth enjoyed meeting new people and especially loved how the girls in Tuscaloosa took to his deep Texas accent and slow draw. On each trip, we would buy Kenneth new clothes and travel accessories, along with jerseys and gear for whatever hometown team we were visiting. The purchases helped us fit right in with the crowd and contributed to the hygiene tips and lessons we could give him along the way.

I’ll never forget the night we saw Penn State beat Michigan at home. It was 32 degrees outside and almost midnight as the final seconds were ticking away. 110,000 fans were jumping in unison to the music, and here I was with my best-good buddies soaking in the gameday magic. Knowing we would have to drive all night to get on an early morning flight in Harrisburg, Benji and I attempted to sleep for an hour in the parking lot as traffic was letting out. Unfortunately, Kenneth got a Justin Timberlake song stuck in his head, and every time we would finally doze off, he would start singing, “I’m bringing sexy back,” and prevent any chance of rest. I can only look back at those times and smile, although at the time, I was instructing him to quiet down just as I do my kids today.

There was also the time I started to make a documentary about life with Kenneth and stopped tapping after just an hour when he shared some disturbing words of wisdom. He told us that you should never give others your social security number because they can do bad things. As I probed further, we learned that Kenneth’s neighbor had been opening credit cards in his name, with him present, and then maxing them out at big box retailers just minutes before he would make Kenneth drive to the pawn shop to sell it all for his own profit. Kenneth was $35,000 in debt for items he didn’t possess.

I was beyond mad. Benji and I took a photocopier to Kenneth’s house and scanned every document we could find. We learned the nuances of state law regarding legal protections, or lack thereof, for special needs individuals when they have a full-time job. We sat on calls with creditors for hours, working hard to get charges reduced or dropped completely. We took our findings in a well-organized binder to the local police, who immediately got the district attorney involved. The criminal in question had just been arrested on different charges, and this new information was being cataloged in case we ever took him to trial.

We knew he didn’t have money to pay Kenneth for damages, so we moved on and paid off the remaining debts. I learned firsthand how ugly and harsh the world can be for folks like Kenneth. There were so many ways that neighbors, salespeople, and strangers took advantage of him over the years. After those incidents, Kenneth started coming to me and Benji for permission when something felt off or different. I wish every person in his shoes had someone assigned to watch over them.

And then there was the sad day of Kenneth’s grandmother’s funeral a few years back. As we sat with our friend and shared his grief, I was shocked to learn that he was being called to the microphone to give a eulogy. He did an amazing job and spoke about his love for Grandma and how she was now in heaven with our Lord. Then, he pauses in front of a room full of people I’d never met and says, “Everyone, this right here is Jeff Schiefelbein. He is the family lawyer, and you can go to him for anything you need.” I wanted to interrupt him to explain that I am not a lawyer and cannot help with anything you need, but he was on a roll, so Benji and I just smiled in support of our friend and let it ride.

When Kenneth finishes work, he often finds a place to fish. He may pull over behind the church or stop at a creek and see what he can catch. He still loves calling his friends, and he is always the first to give an affirmation or to say, “I miss you.” He asks about family members and reminisces about good memories during every conversation. He has been at the same job since we were 20, and his boss told me recently he is an incredible worker with a big heart and a positive attitude.

Kenneth loves Jesus. He is the first person to tell you that God is number One and the devil is number Zero.

It seems that Kenneth has spent the last 26 years living the life we are striving to achieve in our retirement. He spends time with his family and friends, goes fishing, loves to watch wrestling (especially in person), and loves God more than anything. Meanwhile, we are chasing our tails and buying more stuff, hoping to live a simple life like Kenneth someday.

One time, when we were driving home from dropping him off at his house, Benji turned on a Jack Johnson song called “F-Stop Blues” and said the chorus was about Kenneth.

Look who's laughing now that you've wasted
How many years and you've barely even tasted
Anything remotely close to
Everything you've boasted about
Look who's crying now

My Kenneth stories spotlight important reflections for us all?

How are we living?
What is the higher purpose?
Are we upset about the past, anxious for the future, or living in the present?

Look who’s laughing now…

PS. Kenneth was the ring bearer at my wedding. He was so nervous about being in a wedding and wearing a fancy tux that my best man, Benji, escorted him to the front of the church when it was his time to enter.