Some individuals by their deportment make memorable impressions on everyone they meet. Kevin Lux was such a man. The abiding memory for those of us who knew him in his last years was that of a superb father. His two children, Jeremy and Emily, were truly the lights of his life.
He attended all of their school activities, always in his role as their number one cheerleader, leaning on the fence, chatting with other parents and commenting on the passing scene. He was a great sidelines coach, watching every move with acuity and shouting his approvals to make certain that he was being heard. Through school Emily was a classmate and teammate of the Younger B.E. I learned considerably of the girls’ sports interests from standing by Kevin’s side on the edge of the field, inasmuch as I never attended a field hockey game until the Younger B.E. began playing.
Kevin was the ideal sideline commentator for those of us less cognizant of the nitty-gritty aspects of sports on the field. He learned the names of all of Emily’s teammates and cheered for each of them by name, knowing that their individual successes were everyone’s successes. Long after their time on the playing fields he would speak of them using their names.
Kevin was a pilot by profession, having begun flying in his early adulthood. He thoroughly understood both the mechanics of aviation and the political implications of aviation policies; he could discourse on all aspects of aeronautics as well. In such conversations, my role was to listen attentively, but he also enjoyed history and learning about old things, in which arena I was able to be more of a contributor to our discourse, as in that venue we had more in common.
He liked to go to shops, auctions, estate sales to purchase antiques and collectibles that appealed to his interests. He also became excited about finding a bargain and looked for ways to turn his discovery into cash. He often spoke of his desire to open a shop. In the realm of antiques Kevin was the constant learner.
Kevin was incapable of a brief hello in the grocery store or at church or wherever. He found his niche in conversation, which for him was always a two-way street, for he was genuinely interested in knowing other people, what they thought, how they reacted to developments and what their plans for the future were. In speaking with him the other party understood that he or she was important to Kevin. He had the ability to let his friends know he truly cared for them.
Early in June, Kevin learned that he was suffering from a malignant brain tumor. He underwent numerous operations and treatments in the hope of preserving the life he enjoyed so much. His wife, Terry and extended family saw him through his sufferings and a month thereafter he was able to attend Jeremy’s wedding, seated in a wheelchair and showing the signs of how extensively the disease had ravaged his body.
Kevin was a modest man who appreciated and practiced the virtue of humility. He never boasted about himself or his accomplishments and was uniformly pleased to hear of others’ achievements. He was articulate and reasoned in his approach to every aspect of his life, which became apparent to everyone who met him. Basically, he exuded happiness and was a person whose company was a delight to all who knew him. Both literally and figuratively, Kevin never grew old for he treasured every day of the life God had given him.
Kevin Frank Lux, September 30, 1955 – September 17, 2017. R.I.P.