I just got news today that my dad’s best friend (Ken Luneack) has bladder cancer and probably will not live another month because they cannot treat it with his current heart condition. This news is really ironic because I was going to write this page about my Dad and Ken’s wild times together growing up. I never thought I would be writing this page about him leaving us.

Ken has always been a “larger than life” kind of guy. He’s a big, round, and jolly dude, full of spunk, built like a barrel, and just as tough. I called him “Big Daddy”. In fact, he kind of reminds me of Hoss Cartwright from Bonanza. To prove this point, we were on a hunting trip in Wyoming when I spotted this 10-gallon hat in the window of a western shop, and I knew Ken had to have it. 15 minutes later, he stepped out on the curb with it atop his big round head and proceeded to strut across town like he owned the place.

If you know Big Daddy like I do, you know that it wouldn’t take long for trouble to show up. Later that evening, after a few cocktails, Ken was trying to pick a fight with a real cowboy but settled on bringing a rather plump girl back to the motorhome to tease me, I was 13 at the time, and they thought it would be fun. I was sound asleep when the door popped open, and the ship rocked when she came through the door. Ken was trying to talk her into getting into bed with me. YOU SUMBITCH KEN!

I got him back the next evening… We had been out hunting all day and rented a hotel room that night to take showers. There were eight of us, and I was one of the first to shower. Ken had been down at the local watering hole for cocktail hour (which usually starts at noon for Big Daddy), so he was one of the last to get a shower. Big Daddy came to the bus and ask where the shower room was, so I told him, “It’s the first door on the right”. Of course, it was the first door on the left. I watched him waddle all the way down there with that big ass hat on his head, turn to the first door on the right and….walk right in! WTF, I didn’t think the door would be open? In my mind, he would check many doors and figure out I just screwed him over!

He was in there for what seemed an eternity. I was laughing my ass off, trying to figure out what the hell he could be doing. Was the room empty, so he showered anyway? Was there a lonely fat girl in there? What was up? Just then, Ken came backing out of the room, hands waving side to side with a giant man poking him in the chest with his finger, suggesting that he wasn’t pleased that Big Daddy woke him up! I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt. What did Ken say when he lumbered his way back? “That was a good one, Little Chez!”

He has always had a great sense of humor. He would have to if he was able to stand My Dad and his friends, a bunch of crazy bastards. Ken helped my Dad get his snowmobile business off the ground by letting him display the machines inside his bowling alley in Alma. He even had his own bowling team (the Rupp Riders) with fancy red bowling shirts and a Rupp Snowmobile patch that was sewn on each shirt pocket.

One night during leagues, my father had a customer interested in one of the machines, so Dad fired it up in the bowling alley so he could hear it run. “Chez, Chez!! Ken shouted you’re going to have to shut that thing down. People can’t see the bowling lanes!” The place was just filled with blue smoke.

Ken bought 3 snowmobiles from my Dad, one to ride while the other two were being fixed-and that’s pretty much how Ken operated, planning for failure but always with a plan. As of this writing, it’s April 22nd, 2013, and I’m traveling back to Michigan in June with my Nephew to see my folks. I hope to see Ken one more time before he leaves us. He’s been a great friend to my Dad, and I have admired his zest for life. For me, there is only one “Big Daddy,” and his name is Ken Luneack. Ken passed away a few weeks after my last visit. We will miss him dearly.