SALEM, N.H. – Alyse Kennedy was in labor, her contractions just a minute apart.
But before she departed the other day for the hospital in Toronto, she needed to talk about her dad, the man who taught her about life and love and family — and the importance of speaking up for the voiceless.
The midwives were at the ready. The delivery of her first child was just hours away. But, now, her thoughts turned to her dad, Jake Kennedy, who died here this month of ALS.
"The idea that we’ll be able to see a bit of my dad in this little guy is so exciting to me,'' Jake’s oldest child told me by telephone as I sat with her mother and brothers in their lakeside home here. "It’s really an overwhelming emotion.
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"So, as much as we would have loved to introduce him to my dad, we’re confident that there are going to be aspects of him that look just like my father. And feel just like my father. And that is exciting.''
Exciting. It’s a good word to use when writing about the great Jake Kennedy, who with his wife, Sparky, founded the holiday gala for underprivileged kids, Christmas in the City.
He was 65, cut down by a cruel disease that also killed his father and brother and afflicts another brother still. It’s a disease that his son, Zack, is devoting his professional life to defeat.
Zack Kennedy, a medical scientist at the University of Massachusetts in Worcester, is on the cutting edge of ALS research that may help save the lives of members of his extended family.
Now, he’s also a son in mourning.
"There have been so many people in our lives who said to us, ‘Your dad was like a father to me,’ '' Zack told me. "He worked so hard and I know there are other people who put work first instead of their family.
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"There was never a second when I didn’t think that he was just the greatest dad. I don’t know how he had the time to make everyone feel so special.''
A bit of full disclosure here. The Kennedys are our friends. My wife and Sparky Kennedy have shared many Friday mornings scrapbooking — preserving the images of family celebrations and mileposts of life.
My 32-year-old son and Zack are longtime pals, former bandmates, and camping buddies.
When Zack defended his doctoral dissertation at UMass in 2019, we sat in a college auditorium, watching in admiration as he discussed his work in the laboratory of Dr. Robert Brown.
Dr. Brown is the internationally known, groundbreaking researcher who has devoted his career to combat the cruel disease known as amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, or Lou Gehrig’s disease. When I reached him the other day, he called Jake Kennedy’s death poignant — and motivating.
"What’s so extraordinary is Jake’s level of commitment to doing good in general and, of course, his dedication to finding a way to understand and treat ALS,'' Brown said. "Also remarkable is the general commitment of the whole family to trying to find a way to deal with this devastating problem that has wreaked havoc in the family.''
As the reflection of autumn leaves painted Canobie Lake here in a watercolor brilliance, that family remembered a different Jake. Not Jake the physical therapist. Not Jake the ALS patient. But Jake the dad. Jake the husband. Jake the prankster. Jake the guy always up for an adventure and often leading the way.
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What did they remember? What will they always keep close in their hearts?
– Jake the grad school student, who drove a taxi to make ends meet — a job he lost because he gave too many free rides to people who couldn’t afford the fare.
– Jake the new dad, who often kept Alyse up too late at night because he wanted to play with and dote on his beautiful, new little baby girl.
– Jake the man who opened his home to people of all faiths and ethnicities, teaching by example that we are all part of God’s family.
– Jake the guy who woke up some of his kids early on Saturday mornings, so they could accompany him to deliver holiday turkeys, or drop off hockey equipment for kids who couldn’t afford any, or bring trays of coffee to a homeless shelter.
– Jake the father, who told his son not to worry about who had more money, or who lived in a bigger house. Unimportant things, he said.
"I remember it like it was yesterday,'' his son Dean recalled. "He said, ‘We’re the richest people on this earth. I love you. You love your mom. I love your brothers. I love your sister. More than anyone else could ever love their family. So, yeah, we’re rich.’
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"And when you think about that. When you want to raise a family. When you want to have kids. How do you not pass that on to your family? How do you not live through that lens? How do you not see life in that way?''
There are simple answers to all those questions.
And the Kennedys have learned them. You pass it on. You look through that lens. You see the beauty in life all around you.
So, yes, for a long time there will be Kennedy family stories about watching the Patriots play in a snowstorm in Foxborough. Or sitting next to Red Sox pitcher Tim Wakefield’s wife behind home plate at Fenway. About distracting ticket-takers so six Kennedys could see the game on the strength of four tickets.
Chippy Kennedy will tell stories about arriving at the magical Christmas in the City wonderland before the crowds rushed in and enjoying the carnival rides.
"And my dad, would say: ‘Look what we did,’ '' Jake’s youngest child said. "I’m reclaiming those memories. Our dad made it clear that he’s proud of his legacy. Not that he would ever boast about it, but he was still so proud of the legacy he created. And now we get to own that. And I didn’t feel like we could own that while he was suffering because we were so focused on reducing that suffering.''
Sparky said her husband had a familiar refrain that he returned to often.
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"He would say to me, ‘We’re the luckiest two people.’ He would say that to me over and over. All the time. ‘Sparky, look what we have. Look at our kids.’ He said that even when he was sick. Until he couldn’t talk. And once he couldn’t talk, he would write, ‘We’re really lucky.’
"And I said to him when he couldn’t talk, ‘Yes, we really are lucky.’ And I let him know that I was really lucky to be married to him. It’s a family story of love that will continue. He gave me these four wonderful kids. I did win the lottery.''
And now that lottery is paying dividends.
Alyse Kennedy gave birth Wednesday to an 8 pound, 9 ounce boy. Her husband, Ryerson Maybee, and Alyse have named the baby Jackson Harry Maybee.
Jackson is the name the Kennedy children created for their dad. For the rest of his life he will be hearing stories about his grandfather.
"He really had an endless love that he gave to people who had the privilege of crossing his path,'' Alyse told me. "So as hard as it is to lose someone who is so magnanimous and takes up space that can never be filled, what remains is so strong and so loving.''
That’s quite a legacy.
It’s solid. It’s growing.
And it belongs to a man called Jake Kennedy for whom life was such a joy.
Because of the pandemic, the Kennedys will have a private memorial service soon for family members. A larger public service is planned for next year.
Thomas Farragher is a Globe columnist. He can reached at thomas.farragher@globe.com.