A highlight reel of Franklin H.S. athletics would feature a Kennard of one name or another for just about every year since 1975, and that means Frank Kennard — the family patriarch — saw more moments of glory in his lifetime than any of us could ever imagine.
Go back through the archives of big Wildcat games and fantastic Wildcat seasons, and you’ll find a Kennard everywhere, whether it’s making good passes on the girls’ basketball team, catching touchdown passes for the football team, or — most notably — scoring points for the boys’ basketball teams.
The first names changed as the years passed, but one thing reminded constant — Frank was always in the front row, or standing along the sidelines, guiding them and cheering them on.
And not only did he cheer for HIS family, but he do so for everyone else’s, too. In a town full of so many loyal, lifetime supporters, Frank will forever rank as one of its most devoted.
That’s why I hated to hear the news that came this past Monday afternoon. Frank Kennard, a man who had devoted his entire adult life to the people of Franklin, passed away as a result of congestive heart failure. He was 84.
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RAISED IN KENTUCKY, he and his brothers came north after high school to find work with the Dayton Power & Light Company. After originally living in Chautauqua, Frank soon moved the family to 226 Park Avenue in Franklin, which happened to have a flat driveway that also just happened to be a perfect basketball court.
Frank’s children — Rhonda, Mark, Todd, and Wade — learned to play hard and be competitive on that home court. Mark once told me that before he could ever think about being a good player for Franklin or for the surrounding area, his first hope was to be the best player in his household. The Kennards were tough.
Frank started the youth basketball league at the Laura Farrell Elementary School, which was right across the street from the house. He was also a coach with the Franklin Pee Wee Football program. Then, as the children grew older, he moved to the sidelines to be a fan.
I first met Frank in the early 80s when I was a young sportswriter working my way through college. Because Franklin was part of my paper’s coverage area, I was always writing about something the Kennard children had done. Frank was always polite and respectful, and I never heard him make a single complaint about anything I wrote.
There is a common element to good kids, you know?
They have good parents.
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I TOOK THIS PHOTOGRAPH of Frank back in the fall of 2013, when his grandson Luke was quarterback at Franklin and, what’s more, already showing signs he would be the best basketball player in school history.
I took it because this was typical Frank, right there, down front, dressed in Franklin Wildcat gear, watching a Kennard make headlines.
I thought to myself, “How cool is it that he gets to do this AGAIN.” It’s not that I think athletic achievement is the ultimate goal in life, but I do think our local sports programs are the life blood of our communities. Nothing can rally a town like a big game.
So I made a note to one day do a story about Frank, which would basically be a collection of stories about all he has seen during his days since coming north from Kentucky. He would talk about the good things he had seen several decades ago in his children, their coaches, and their fellow players, and what he gets to see yet again, 30 years later. I intended to use this photo along with it.
I regret I never got around to writing that story. I love my job, but it needs my full attention to do it well. If I had written it, though, I’m sure it would have been a glorious story about all that is good about Franklin.
I am comforted by what I heard the other day from my friend Danny Griffith, who is a pastor at Horizon Pointe Church. He was a starter on Franklin’s 17-1 basketball team when Mark was an impressionable freshman and Todd was a sixth-grader, and therefore has always been a great friend of the Kennard family.
Griff said he met with Frank last week at hospice, and they talked about what Frank would soon see. There was no fear, no worries, and no uncertainty. The man who had seen a lifetime of glorious moments was actually looking forward to what he would see next — more glory. The ultimate, heavenly glory. The glory that comes from a belief in God.
I find such comfort in that. Frank passed away in the same way he lived, in love.
You’re a good man, Frank. Rest in peace.