Rob Kenney’s just a middle-aged father of two adult children, but his YouTube channel — started during the pandemic shutdown — now has more than 2 million followers who want to see him teach how to tie a tie, or change a tire, or unclog a drain. The commenters on his videos seem to find an instant emotional bond with something that — in many cases — they never had.
Visit Rob Kenney’s .
Here’s his Facebook page
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33 replies on ““Dad, How Do I…?” Videos Reach Millions, Answer Fatherless American’s Heart Cry”
Great memories! Scottie, yours were especially poignant!
I have an unlabelled spot on an unlabelled book shelf that is where I put “warm fuzzy” books. They are books that have at their kernel the goodness of humankind and I re-read them on a kind of rationed basis so I don’t wear them out. They are stories will make me smile, perhaps mistily, at how good truly does win. My only problem is that I don’t know how to put this Right Angle on that shelf. You three guys outdid yourselves and I don’t want to lose it. Thank you for what you did..
You can tell by the comments, this subject is a ‘bullseye!’ With me too. It is not just that dad’s teach and lead sons and daughters, they show them what morality and honor are.
My first family photo that I’m in shows my parents on the way to get married. I’m still in mom’s stomach. Back then, it was dishonorable to abandon your child and my dad never considered it. And when I was 9 and they divorced (also considered socially unacceptable then) Dad supported us and made sure he stayed close to us four kids. Once a month weekends and one month a year was all the courts allowed. But He never missed being our dad and I had his example of what responsibility is to follow. All of this in spite of a divorce that was WWIII and lasted for years.
When I was about 30, I met my son. He was 4 months old. He and his mother had been abandoned by his ‘sire.’ I fell in love with two people at the same time. And picked up my role of “dad” that I had been avoiding all my life. I never regretted it as I discovered that being a Dad is one of the most fulfilling roles in a man’s life. My son grew up strong, honest and good. His family today is loving and beautiful. I’m in love again with my three precious granddaughters.
The moral of this story is simple. Being a dad is a moral responsibility each man has. It carries its own reward. Being a dad, is Love.
Scott, that may have been the most powerful Right Angle that has been published to date. Bless you for sharing your personal experiences with us. What an important message that resonates with all the Fathers out here who were there for their kids. Hopefully it will motivate some absent fathers to reconnect with their children too.
I have heard it said on a couple occasions that a child’s concept of God is often founded upon their impression of his father. With so many fatherless children being raised in the past few decades, is it any wonder that we see so much ungodly activity, e.g., riots, rape, theft, murder, etc.? It’s one thing not to know how to do practical things like auto repair and how to dress properly, but another not being trained socially and spiritually, so as to conduct yourself in a moral and amicable manner. I am sure single moms do the best they can, but lessons on accountability and responsibility are lost due to deadbeat dads. Kids see their father run from a difficult marriage and so they, too, feel they can do what is personally convenient (or fun) rather than what is right and proper. And so, the cycle continues…
Thanks, Scott, for introducing us to this “dad.”
Beautiful story, Scott.
“I knew what it was when he told me, but by the time I got to the basement, I no longer knew what it was that he wanted me to get.”
Oh, yes. Guilty as charged here, too.
Wow Scott. Preach with power brother.
The first thing I remember knowing as a child was the great good fortune of having my dad for a father. The gift of his strong, steady, capable and encouraging presence was never lost on me. Even as a little girl, I saw clearly enough to know such qualities were not to be taken for granted. Maybe the impact of my artist mother’s penchant for chaos and instability (since corrected, bless her heart), brought the need I had for my dad to be exactly who he was into focus.
All these years later, I have the great good fortune of caring for him in his old age, as I aspire to return the gift of a strong, steady, capable and encouraging presence to him as he confronts the losses and limitations inherent in growing older. I fall short of this aspiration often, but I’m learning.
Thankfully, his life is not without joy, and he damn well deserves the satisfaction of looking back on a life well lived. Old age is, however, often fraught with illness, loss and pain, punctuated by the ever-present fact of impending mortality. Indeed, it is not for the faint of heart, and the courage he brings to these challenges is a thing to behold.
Still, it’s been hard watching a lion lose his teeth. My dad was always the one person in whom I could find no flaw.
I’m now close enough to understand his vulnerability as I watch this once trail-blazing individualist struggle against the conditions which tear from him his hard-earned independence. Despite his stoicism, I fear this makes him feel defeated.
As a child, I learned the value of independence from him and his example; now, we are both learning the value of being able to let go when it’s time to let go, and the futility of trying otherwise.
I think of all the times he picked me up, brushed me off and sent me back into the world with an encouraging word.
If I do only one thing well in my life, let it be that I serve my dad with the equanimity and fearless love he deserves, especially in those moments when my heart is being crushed by it all.
This Right Angle episode is hands down my favorite, which is saying a lot. I am filled with good will, gratitude and respect for each one of you. To Steve and Scott, thank you for sharing your heartfelt, and heartbreaking, stories of your dads, and for exhibiting the courage and fortitude of adapting to the losses in your lives to become the good men and fathers that you clearly are. To Bill, well, the beatific love in your eyes as Scott talked about you calling him Scotty made this, for me, a real community.
My dad taught me how to drive a car with a manual transmission (all our cars were manual). He also took me to a garage that had a lift you could rent and showed me how to change the oil and filter, and how to grease zerk fittings. He showed me how to check water in the battery, radiator, belts, air filter, everything I needed to know to take care of my car. I continued to do all of that until I got married and “let” my husband take care of the maintenance. 😉
Thanks a ton… been a very long time since I got “misty” – sincerely appreciate it !!
There is one young man whose family I’ve been friends with since before he was born. During one turbulent period, he lived under my roof for about three years.
I taught him how to do a number of things including tie a tie, write a check, and jump start a motorcycle. (Thanks to YouTube for that last one).
He told me once he considers me his second father.
I may not have any offspring, but that didn’t keep me from being a dad.
Wow. Great episode, guys. Unlike most children it seems, I grew up adoring my father. He was about 38 when I was born, so he was not the usual 20 something dad. He knew something about life already. He taught me a lot of stuff I took for granted: how to hunt, how to fish, how to skin a fish or clean an animal, how to survive in the woods, the difference between right and wrong, a great love of westerns, and probably most importantly, the necessity of play. My father would get down on the floor and wrestle with us kids and we loved it. Sometimes we’d do it in the front yard and the other kids would join in. I can remember kids ringing out door bell and asking if my dad could come out and play. Kids loved him. He was a carpenter and had been a Seabee in WWII and we would often discuss the war as I was a history buff. Dad seldom got upset at much of anything. I asked one time how he could be so calm when people were rude or irritating. His response has stuck with me through the years: “once you’ve been bombed by the Japanese, all of this stuff is unimportant. It’s not worth get upset over.” I took that to heart in framing my perspective on life, even when I was in military service years later. I took so much for granted at the time, and figured out only later that not all kids had the same kinds of father. I have tried to emulate his example to my own children who are all grown now, and they seem to have taken my Dad’s example to heart with their children. I will never be half the my dad was, and he is still with me every day, even though he has been physically gone for 14 years. Thank you, guys, for this heart-touching episode, which was moving and very personal. In this time of quarantine and often bitter news, it is wonderful to be reminded of what is truly important. This is the kind of episode that makes me wish we could sit in a room together and visit. Since that can’t be done at this point, thank you for coming into our homes and sharing your virtual time with us. Sometimes it is just like having you here.
As usual, I so enjoyed this Right Angle so much! Thank you, boys!
oh, and I love you guys!
This will go down in the annals of R/A as the most poignant. Great closing Scotty. My dad taught me how to be a dad.
Over the years, when I learned of acquaintances who’s parents were divorced or one or the other have left, I would try to empathize how it must be like. I could not. But it always left me with a gratefulness that my parents kept a family, and themselves together. My Pop passed in 2017, at the age of 91 and 11/12ths. 1st Army, D+6, battle of St. Lo, and was in Vervies Belgium in the bulge. Came home, married my Mom and made and raised 2 sons and a daughter. Mom taught me to cook and clean, dad taught me to do the rest.
There is one thing that a dad can teach by example and not by direct instruction which is invaluable to a teenager. A work ethic. Get up at 5am, drive to the ag fields, do your job, come home and fix the toilet, the car, the table saw, the sink and never ever once complain. That kind of sharing of a work ethic passes down. Like osmosis. Not a word need be spoken. My brother, my sister and me all retained that work ethic. One of the greatest gifts my father ever gave to me, and he never even knew he had done so.
I was one of the lucky ones. Rob Kenny is helping the rest.
Steve – I was about 14 as well when my dad said the following to me in his New Yorker way.
Any prick can sire offspring. It takes a man to be a father!
Scott – I knew during Backstage that this was going to be a brilliant episode. I lost my Dad the night before my birthday almost 9 years ago. I remember him teaching me all of those same things that you all discussed. When I became a homeowner, I would call him anytime I started to “fix” anything and ask him How do I. . .? To this day, every time I start something around the house, I pause and think to myself, How would dad do this? Thanks for this gents.
Though as others have pointed out, very dusty in here today!
Scott, as you mentioned he was at 1.9m subs, I looked and this AM (5/29) he is closing in on 2.1m now which I am betting will be eclipsed quickly. I watched a few videos and what a genuine nice guy… 2m subs in a couple months and almost 6.7m views. Wow, this gentleman sure found an unmet need.
Way back in my high school AP history class, the 12ish of us in the class were talking about parents for some reason or other. This one girl piped up and said her parents did this thing at the house last night. Every head suddenly turned to her in wonderment. “You’re parents are still together? What’s that like?” Someone said. And it was what the rest of us were all thinking.
Ravi Zacharias was laid to rest on May 21 and I remember him speaking about a “God-shaped hole” in people’s souls; the ultimate father figure.
I recall hearing about his death. What a great loss this world has suffered with his passing.
I had not heard, very sad, agree with Nolan a huge loss for the world.
OK, who let those onion slicing ninjas in here?
I don’t own a toaster.
Toaster ovens are superior in every way, and make toasters obsolete. Seriously, toaster ovens are amazing and you need one if you don’t have one already. They do unspeakable things to revive leftovers once thought hopeless.
You buggers. Just when I get used to putting tea down while watching Right Angle so I don’t spray it all over my laptop from laughing, you somehow cause these mysterious coulds of eye watering dust to appear.
My dad was born in 1929 and left school at 14. He spent his entire working life, and his two years of National Service in the Army, either fixing or driving trucks. He was still in his teens when he was one of the drivers hauling the aggregate to turn Heathrow from a small airfield into a much bigger base for long distance military transports then then the civilian airport it is today.
For all of my childhood he worked permanent nightshift, driving big artic rigs or repairing them. He was immensely practical, and I learned a lot from him, but certainly not cooking. In my late teens he threatened to throw me out of the house for using fresh garlic! His work, upbringing and nature combined to make him somewhat distant, but he was every inch a Dad and everything he did was for us.
He died three years ago last Monday. In his eulogy I told the story of how, when I was 7 or 8 and very excited with a new book about Britain’s ancient sites like Stonehenge and Avebury. The next week he took me out of school for a day, Mum did a packed lunch and a thermos of tea for us and we drove off at silly o’clock in the morning, just him and me, to see the sunrise at Avebury. We then went to Silbury Hill, the West Kennet Long Barrow and finally Stonehenge. A curious bonding experience from the least hippy-like man you can imagine (unless of course you’re familiar with Bill Whittle).
I miss him.
Thank you Scott. Brilliant RA.
I’m crying over here. Thanks so much for this story. It was desperately needed in the midst of the insanity we’re going through.
My father was born in 1922. WW2 vet, medic, carried a BAR. Taught me everything mentioned in this segment. To this day, I still do most of what he taught me. He also taught me to cook, sew, iron, and much more. Mom was always afraid I would hurt myself. And yes, I held the light for him and fetched tools. I even worked on one part of something while he worked on another. I am 65 now. Lost him in 2003 partially to a stroke, and miss him and my mom who I lost in 1999 due to cancer.
My dad also was a medic, in the Pacific theater. I used to wonder how he managed to stay so calm during an emergency, i.e. a broken bone, a bloody head, etc., until one day it dawned on me that what he saw during the war prepared him for just about anything.
Must be a lot of dust in the air, my eyes are watering like crazy. Thanks guys.
It’s Onion dust I reckon Buck. It’s even over here in Blighty. Eyes waterin’ like a goodun’.