On September 13, 2025, the speaking community lost a beloved colleague and friend. This is the script I delivered during an online memorial organized by the National Speakers Association, honoring Kenneth “Shark” Kinney, a speaker, communicator, husband, and father. I’m sharing it here as it was spoken, in gratitude for having known him and in remembrance of the life he lived so fully.

I first met Shark three and a half years ago, the way many of us meet in this business — while waiting in front of a hotel for an airport ride after a conference. It happened to be an NSA conference.

Shark invited me to share his Uber. And on that short trip to the airport I learned that his nickname wasn’t just marketing flash. He actually loved sharks. He studied them. He swam with them in open waters. And, while championship golfer Greg Norman is famously known as “The Shark,” because Norman is a killer, Kenneth was “Shark” because he loved the sea creature. He loved sharks. When he was telling me about the habits of hammerheads and great whites, it was like he was telling me about his best friends.

A couple of years ago, Shark told me he was launching his own conference. It was for the home services industry. I asked him, “Why would you do that?”, and he said he was tired of waiting to be picked to speak. He wanted to do the picking. So he created his own stage. And true to form, that first conference wasn’t in a boring hotel ballroom. It was at a major aquarium, with tanks surrounding the room — and there was even a gigantic 55 foot whale shark drifting past the speakers as they spoke.

And Shark was always about the other person. So even though it was his conference, he shined the spotlight on others. He brought me in to speak, and he brought in Mandy Harvey, Susan Frew, and Fotini Iconomopoulos. He always made us the stars.

The last time Shark and I spoke was about three weeks ago, right when Cracker Barrel had changed its logo. I told him I hadn’t been to a Cracker Barrel in over a decade, and he said while he didn’t go often, but he happened to go to one a few weeks earlier. And the shocking thing he said was that now they served beer and wine. I said, “Cracker Barrel? They’re THE family restaurant. There’s no way they serve beer and wine.”

So he texted me a 24-second video he took of the drink menu. Then he laughed, saying: “I don’t know why I made a video of the menu. I should have just taken a photo.” (The things you remember, right?)

We hung up, I watched the 24-second video, and texted him back a funny comment about the restaurant. And the very last words he ever sent me were “Haha.” And somehow that feels right. Those are good last words.

Shark was an excellent guy. I feel lucky to have known him. And I’ll always remember him as a shark . . . in the best possible sense of the word.