Kenton Lynn Bisnette

When Kenton Bisnette answered the phone, he was usually driving, with the windows down, good music on the radio, a cigarette, Diet Coke, diamond rings in a black velvet roll in his truck’s center console, and a gun under the seat. He might be headed to Kansas City to sell a piece of jewelry, or to Wichita to visit his two grandkids, which he did devoutly, nearly every Wednesday. He said it was a priority he see his grandkids regularly, so he could have a real relationship with them. Having real relationships is what he did best. He engaged and intrigued immediately with his stories, jokes, teasing, or debates on politics, cars, or the merit of just about anything. Some of his stories will stay a mystery, like exactly where and how he got shot in the hand and, on separate occasion, why he was cleaning brain off of a ceiling. His eyes were dark red-brown and sparkled when he talked, and his laugh was a captivating chuckle that emanated from under his mustache, over his beard, and made his nose wrinkle up. As a student at Luckey High School, he would turn up absent, only to find he had gotten special permission to drive the nuns to the mother house in Concordia. Kan., in his marina blue ‘66 Chevelle SS convertible. He said, “I’d tell them to sit on their habits, but a lot of times they would get loose and just be flapping like crazy in the wind behind them down the highway.” His diploma was mailed to him because his hair was an inch longer than his collar, but it was agreed the teachers loved him; even the nun he chased down the hall on his motorcycle, up the fire escape and onto the roof. She had her picture taken up there for the yearbook that year. He flew a Cessna 172 airplane in the 70s. He had a concealed-carry and Class A driver’s license. He was friends with police officers and hitmen and everyone in between. But not lawyers. He was a keeper of secrets, a deep lover of his daughter, son-in-law, grandkids and friends. His granddaughter said she will “miss him calling her a little toad,” and his grandson will miss their heated checkers matches. His daughter will remember floating and talking in his swimming pool in the wee hours of the morning, looking for shooting stars and satellites, teaching her to dream big dreams. He claimed to love animals more than humans, and owned horses, three Boston Terriers, and many cats, with Kim Yu, a siamese, being his last and dear companion. He loved children, and when a kid once asked if he was Santa Claus, he just winked and put his finger up to his lips to say, “Shhhhh.” He created one-of-a-kind memories with all those he loved. He lived life on his own terms and wasn’t boring for a single moment. He quoted Ann Landers, of all people, “Yesterday’s history, tomorrow’s a mystery, but today is a gift, that’s why they call it the present.” We will take his sincerity and fire with us down the road every day. Kenton was born in Manhattan, Kan., July 27, 1950. He is survived by his sister Marcia St. Louis; his brothers, Mark Bisnette, David Bisnette and Brian Bisnette; his daughter Bree Cox, son-in-law Jason Cox and grandchildren, Scarlett and Feynman Cox. He was the son of Martin and Norma Bisnette, both deceased. The memorial service will be 2 p.m. Wednesday, Aug. 26, Irvin-Parkview Funeral Home, Manhattan, Kan. In lieu of flowers, please donate to the National Stroke Association, www.stroke.org.