Kenneth Richard Anderson (kenan derson, SAG-AFTRA ) was a man who was filled with creativity, warmth and love. And I was the greatest recipient of all of it for the decade we had together (2001-2011). Loving him and being loved by him made me a better man.

We first met on a cold winter’s night on Friday, January 12, 2001, in a little bar I’d recently discovered in my neighborhood (also on the north side of Chicago). But because of some miscommunication, we didn’t get the chance to talk much that night. I remember being heartbroken that I’d met this handsome stranger named kenan and it hadn’t worked out. March 23, 2001, was the next time I went back to that bar, trying to forget the lackluster result of my previous visit in January. And as soon as I sat down, and the crowd parted like the Red Sea, there he was, sitting at the end of the bar. He came back every Friday night, hoping to see me again. He waited for me. And after we met that night, that was it. We were never apart again during his life.

Ken was a prolific writer, an accomplished actor/improviser/voice-over artist, a doting uncle, and a “do-er”. I often referred to him as our family “MacGuyver” because of his drive and ingenuity in solving problems. He was a performer. An entertainer. He loved to morph is silky voice into the craziest and funniest characters that have ever existed. He was a loving husband and a willing partner-in-crime. He was the truest of friends–loyal and giving–and remains a source of bravery and encouragement for me (and others, I suspect) to this very day.

Ken wrote and performed a one-mans how about his journey with cancer in 2002–and performed it on a few more occasions in the ensuing years. In honor of his 60th birthday in 2025, I hosted a fundraiser for the American Cancer Society for the digital premiere of his show, My Foot Left, on YouTube. You can find the whole show directly below. It’s very “Ken,” a serious topic told in a straightforward manner, peppered with his humor and life experiences.

The “ken-do dictionary” was a gift I assembled for him with help from our friends and family for his 45th — and, sadly, final — birthday.

I’ve collated some photos from throughout our life together. They’ll change from time to time, but are representative of the joy we shared in our life together. There was a time when looking at pictures of him was something I did alone, bereft, dazed. But when I look at these photos now–and all the others I have–I’m taken back to each moment, and the warmth that pervades every one of them. They make me happy (with perhaps the tiniest pinch of grief.) They are matter-of-factly, part of my past, but only in as much as they propel toward the future, with his love tucked firmly alongside my heart.

He was the silliest of creatives, singing me this song when I got into the car one day to deliver him a Slurpee from 7-11. Please enjoy the “Poop Your Pants” song. It’s featured in this blog.

I’m an infinitely better man for knowing and loving (and being loved by) this richly textured, incredibly talented, giving man.