Dale Kenneth Adams
With heavy but full hearts, we announce the passing of Dale Kenneth Adams on Friday, April 24, 2026. He left us peacefully, surrounded by love and loved ones in Columbus, Ohio.
Ken was born on January 19, 1941 in Connellsville, Pennsylvania son of the late Lula Hazelbaker and Dale Adams.
He was preceded in death by both his parents and his beloved guide dog, Ace. He is survived by a legacy of kinship that extends past blood and endures through uncertainty. He leaves behind his children, Michelle, Ken; brother, Doug; aunt and matriarch Gladys; as well as his five grandchildren; and three great-grandchildren.
Ken had many, many lives by the age of 85.
As a boy, Kenny was overflowing with curiosity. He challenged limits (and authority), but also pushed beyond boundaries and past what he was told he was capable of. In his adolescence, he started a home economics class that spanned the duration that schoolhouse was open. In his teenage years, he built and lived on a sailboat, lovingly referring to it as his Summer in ’55. Kenny proudly served in the United States Coast Guard before being honorably discharged in 1963, where he found a sense of drive and destiny.
As a brother and father, Ken both taught and learned lessons of forgiveness and wholehearted acceptance. He had a presence that defied seasons of absence, and a way of saying yes to life so fearlessly that others lived fuller ones because of it.
And as a friend, Ken was steadfast and considerate. He was most himself when he was hosting and finding ways to bring people together, curating and refining the art of being alive.
As a veteran and author, D.K. pushed through diagnoses that left him blind, guided by his late service dog and other half, Ace. He was passionate and inspired, though his storytelling spanned far past words on paper and had an indescribable way of intertwining the lives of those he loved
As a person, Ken was suspiciously intelligent and dangerously witty. He had creativity that was infectious, and a distinct cackle that danced amongst others in every room his stories gathered ears around.
Ken loved loudly and cared consistently. He was bound by few, known by many, and shaped many more. To know him was to know living fully, having the courage to start over, and trusting things to “be what they be.”
He is deeply cherished, immensely missed, and loved “a google.”
In lieu of flowers, Ken would be honored if you would consider a donation to Dogs Inc., a cause he deeply cared about and supported through his book proceeds, helping connect disabled veterans with guide dogs.
(https://dogsinc.org)