Kenneth Alan Williams

Died: Mon., Dec. 25, 2017

Family to do services at later date

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Music by The Piano Brothers

            Kenneth Alan Williams, 76, of the Beans Creek Community, passed away on Monday, December 25, 2017 at his home. A native of District Heights, MD, he was the son of the late Howard and Constance Hammond Williams. Ken retired from Bell South where he was a central office manager.

            Survivors include his wife, Kathy D. Williams of the home; two sons: Steve Williams and wife Linda of Ft. Lauderdale, Fl and Kenneth Williams Jr. of Ft. Worth, TX; brother, Greg Williams of Massachusetts; granddaughter, Krista Williams; sister in law and brother in law,  Mary and Floyd Diedolf of Bakersville.

            A celebration of life service may be scheduled at a later date.

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Gary Swinea
   Posted Fri December 29, 2017
Williams Family,
I was sad to hear of Kenny's passing. I had the pleasure of working alongside Kenny in the Cyprus CO in Fort Lauderdale. Our small crew of 8 Switchmen became like family and he was a part of that family.
Love, Gary

Gregory Williams
   Posted Tue January 02, 2018
I am Ken's brother, and wished first to express my appreciation to Mr. Swinea for taking the time to note his memories of my brother--which of course must have been generated a few years ago. Your gesture, Mr. Swinea, meant more than you know. Thank you.

My most vivid memories of Ken come down mostly from the 50s--he was the archetypal 50s teenager, with the hair and the white T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. In 1957, he was 16 and I was 7. I still love the music from that time, not only because of its intrinsic wonder, but because of its association, to me, with him. He would tape songs from the radio on a reel-to-reel that must have weighed 30 pounds. He did have some odd opinions about the making of the music: he thought, for example, that Duane Eddy's twangy sound resulted from his completely slackening the strings of his guitar (not realizing that the results of that technique would have been notes, if any, wildly out of tune). Arguing that point to him would have been fruitless, but then arguing any point with him was fruitless. When I told him what village I was buying a house in, some 16 years ago, he told me I was wrong, that it was actually in the next village over. Wouldn't hear otherwise.

I saw him often when we both lived in south Florida, in the 70s--after that, not much, and then, rarely. I last talked to him on his birthday, in October. That isn't right. He was my brother, and I loved him, and I miss knowing that he is there.


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