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Stephen Sardi
About me:
I'm from England, but lived the majority of my life in the US. I've traveled the world as part of corporate America, and have enjoyed interacting and learning from other cultures. As you can tell -- I'm not a writer, but I do have many fond memories.
Ever since I was a child, I've felt that cemeteries should be respected as repositories of lives, in some cases lived long before we are born. The stories deserve to be told and remembered, but in most cases, the mute stones don't tell them. I resolved to try to use whatever skills I had to tell the world about my older brother, who wasn't famous but meant the world to me.
Ever since I was a child, I've felt that cemeteries should be respected as repositories of lives, in some cases lived long before we are born. The stories deserve to be told and remembered, but in most cases, the mute stones don't tell them. I resolved to try to use whatever skills I had to tell the world about my older brother, who wasn't famous but meant the world to me.
About my family:
I live here in CT with my fantastic wife -- my successful children and my two cute grandchildren live locally.
Updated: March 5, 2025
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Paul Sardi
With the SS United States being in the news so much recently, I thought I would share this picture. My parents, Paul, and I came across from England in 1961 on the SS United States, and this picture was taken either during boarding in Europe, or after arriving in New York. You can see my parents -- my mother holding Paul, and my father holding me (with my back to the camera). My mother told us in later years that we both handled the voyage 'very well'. If you look closely (toward the center of the picture), you can still make out his big brown eyes looking directly into the camera. I'm the last remaining family member still alive in this sadly not-so-good picture.
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Paul Sardi's Chess Set, opened
This is his chess set, opened to show the pieces and the magnetic latch he added.
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Paul Sardi's Chess Set
Since I wrote about his chess experiences, I decided I should post a picture of the chess set I mention in the story.
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Stephen Sardi
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Stephen's Followers
Annette Eberhardinger
About me:I haven't shared any details about myself.
Lizzie Kunde
My name is Lizzie Kunde and I am the newest member of the AncientFaces Support team!
See more info about me here: Lizzie - Community Support and I look forward to getting to know our wonderful members. Feel free to reach out with any questions, happy to help :)
My mom's side of the family is Swedish (and still lives in Sweden) and she instilled in me lots of Swedish heritage and traditions which has made me who I am today. My dad's side of the family is German and Irish and the most likely the side of the family I get all my freckles from. Family is so important, and welcome everyone to discover more about them, their history, and share about their loved ones who make up the history of who we are!
My mom's side of the family is Swedish (and still lives in Sweden) and she instilled in me lots of Swedish heritage and traditions which has made me who I am today. My dad's side of the family is German and Irish and the most likely the side of the family I get all my freckles from. Family is so important, and welcome everyone to discover more about them, their history, and share about their loved ones who make up the history of who we are!
Kristen Kenny
About me:I haven't shared any details about myself.
Donna Farley
About me:I haven't shared any details about myself.
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Paul Sardi
With the SS United States being in the news so much recently, I thought I would share this picture. My parents, Paul, and I came across from England in 1961 on the SS United States, and this picture was taken either during boarding in Europe, or after arriving in New York. You can see my parents -- my mother holding Paul, and my father holding me (with my back to the camera). My mother told us in later years that we both handled the voyage 'very well'. If you look closely (toward the center of the picture), you can still make out his big brown eyes looking directly into the camera. I'm the last remaining family member still alive in this sadly not-so-good picture.
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When we were younger, Paul and I never said 'good night' to each other. Night times were busy with doing homework, working on hobbies, listening to albums, etc., and usually we were up until 2am just lying in bed and relaxing, knowing we were both there for the night. I don't recall ever making a concerted effort to 'call it a night' and say good night, specifically.
When you are young, the days go by and you don't think like adults might. I thought my brother would be there forever, so the formalities of being an adult never sunk in. The problem is -- I still think of him being out there, somewhere -- with the hopes of being able to say good-bye, finally.
The end was so quick, I can't remember specifics of the day -- it's all hazy now. But even though I was at the wake and funeral -- to me, he is still alive and well, somewhere out there. In my opinion, there is no such thing as closure. One minute he was here, and then -- he was not.
I keep visualizing him walking up to my house and ringing the doorbell -- with that great smile and wavy brown hair. He would be angry with me for something, but then, he would let it go (as he always did) and we would be friends again. We would start up again as if nothing ever happened.
I know others out there must feel the same way I do. I understand people mourning, not being able to put losses like this behind them. I won't ever be able to, since I keep seeing him as I knew him - he is a part of me that still lives on, ready to enjoy life again, doing whatever we could together for fun. I still hear his voice and have the expectancy that we will meet again.
I wish I had one last day with him. We would do things together all day, and at the end of the day, I would finally say good-bye to him, and tell him that I loved him, and loved having him as my brother and friend. He would laugh at me, and call me an idiot (as he would when I waved to him when he was standing with his friends, and I was passing by -- but I would know he did that just to let me know he saw and acknowledged me).
So, dear reader -- value what you have in your life. Say good night to those you love, and if you are lucky, you will have the chance to say good-bye as well when their (or your) time comes.
Paul Sardi
Paul Sardi
Lizzie Kunde
My name is Lizzie Kunde and I am the newest member of the AncientFaces Support team!
See more info about me here: Lizzie - Community Support and I look forward to getting to know our wonderful members. Feel free to reach out with any questions, happy to help :)
My mom's side of the family is Swedish (and still lives in Sweden) and she instilled in me lots of Swedish heritage and traditions which has made me who I am today. My dad's side of the family is German and Irish and the most likely the side of the family I get all my freckles from. Family is so important, and welcome everyone to discover more about them, their history, and share about their loved ones who make up the history of who we are!
My mom's side of the family is Swedish (and still lives in Sweden) and she instilled in me lots of Swedish heritage and traditions which has made me who I am today. My dad's side of the family is German and Irish and the most likely the side of the family I get all my freckles from. Family is so important, and welcome everyone to discover more about them, their history, and share about their loved ones who make up the history of who we are!
Paul Sardi in Halloween costume
Paul loved having fun. He wanted his costume to be very scary so he did the makeup himself. When little kids saw him and were afraid, it made him laugh so much.
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Paul Sardi in Halloween costume
Paul and I decided to dress up for Halloween. I'm not sure what he was supposed to be, but it was a scary look for sure.
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My brother and I would share our dreams, especially if they seemed funny, or if something unusual happened in them. But mostly, they were wishful thinking on our part about what our futures held, things we eventually hoped we would own, or places we might visit that we had learned about in school.
We learned about the Caribbean, the deep blue waters, the white sands -- and the pirate's treasure we were sure we would find if only we could get there. Our interest was heightened when we learned that Charles Island, off the coast of Milford, CT, had been a stopping point for Captain Kidd and that he may have buried treasure there, according to local legend.
My brother had a dream about how one day, when he got older, he would buy Charles Island -- and he and I would go out there and find the treasure we were sure was hidden there. In his dream, he told me, the evidence was there because he found a sand dollar seashell at Silver Sands, the nearby beach. I was so caught up in his dream that I felt sure he HAD to be right, and I looked forward to it eventually happening.
Of course, that could not happen. The legends were real, but we didn't stand a chance of finding anything, not even the sand dollar shell that are native to tropical waters.
Charles Island has an interesting feature -- at low tide, there is a tombolo (sandbar) that allows people to walk over to the island and stay for a short while until the tide starts coming in again. We knew about this, but it's hard to be an explorer when your life is tied up in school and work. Although I've walked there in recent years, Paul and I never did, so the best he could do was admire the island from afar -- and settle for dreams of pirate gold.
I don't know if we perceive when our last days and nights are upon us. I can only hope that the night before he died, my brother had a dream where his wishes came true -- where he found the buried treasure, and enjoyed the rest of his life knowing he had achieved a great accomplishment.
As an adult, I've been to where he and I dreamed of going -- it is as beautiful as we both imagined. The palm trees, the white sand, the blue water -- all there. I hope his dreams that night -- April 24, 1981 -- matched the reality of the beautiful things he missed out on.
During one of my trips there, I found his sand dollar on the beach -- and thought of him. Wherever he is, I hope his dreams come true.
Paul Sardi
Paul Sardi
My brother and I would share our dreams, especially if they seemed funny, or if something unusual happened in them. But mostly, they were wishful thinking on our part about what our futures held, things we eventually hoped we would own, or places we might visit that we had learned about in school.
We learned about the Caribbean, the deep blue waters, the white sands -- and the pirate's treasure we were sure we would find if only we could get there. Our interest was heightened when we learned that Charles Island, off the coast of Milford, CT, had been a stopping point for Captain Kidd and that he may have buried treasure there, according to local legend.
My brother had a dream about how one day, when he got older, he would buy Charles Island -- and he and I would go out there and find the treasure we were sure was hidden there. In his dream, he told me, the evidence was there because he found a sand dollar seashell at Silver Sands, the nearby beach. I was so caught up in his dream that I felt sure he HAD to be right, and I looked forward to it eventually happening.
Of course, that could not happen. The legends were real, but we didn't stand a chance of finding anything, not even the sand dollar shell that are native to tropical waters.
Charles Island has an interesting feature -- at low tide, there is a tombolo (sandbar) that allows people to walk over to the island and stay for a short while until the tide starts coming in again. We knew about this, but it's hard to be an explorer when your life is tied up in school and work. Although I've walked there in recent years, Paul and I never did, so the best he could do was admire the island from afar -- and settle for dreams of pirate gold.
I don't know if we perceive when our last days and nights are upon us. I can only hope that the night before he died, my brother had a dream where his wishes came true -- where he found the buried treasure, and enjoyed the rest of his life knowing he had achieved a great accomplishment.
As an adult, I've been to where he and I dreamed of going -- it is as beautiful as we both imagined. The palm trees, the white sand, the blue water -- all there. I hope his dreams that night -- April 24, 1981 -- matched the reality of the beautiful things he missed out on.
During one of my trips there, I found his sand dollar on the beach -- and thought of him. Wherever he is, I hope his dreams come true.
Paul Sardi
Paul Sardi
Paul Sardi
This is a picture of Paul with a kitten he got for me. I don't remember where he got it and unfortunately my mother wouldn't let me keep it. This picture was taken in my yard in Devon, CT and that is my dog J.J. with Paul.
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Paul Sardi
Here's Paul posing for the camera and showing off his muscles! Taken in my yard in Devon, CT. I wish the pole in the background wasn't there.
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Years ago, there were many similar-aged children living in our neighborhood who were looking for something to do on a lazy summer day. One favorite game was kickball -- you could generally get 6 or 8 kids to come together and form teams.
As kids got older, they stopped being interested. By the time they graduated grammar school, they were done with the neighborhood games, and found other more grown-up interests. This meant that whoever was the oldest kid still willing to play became the umpire, and their word was final.
By the summer of '72, Paul was the eldest in the neighborhood, and one particular Saturday afternoon word got around that lots of kids were interested in playing. I convinced him to join thinking there would be a short game with few kids involved but hoping it would be worth his while.
As it turned out, about 20 kids showed up to play.
We started playing around 10:30 that morning after dividing up into teams. There was never any thought of cheating, and everyone respected the fact that Paul was in charge. Around 1pm, we got hungry and took a break for lunch -- and Paul asked everyone to come back afterward, which they did. Upon arrival, they went to exactly the position or base they were on when we paused.
We played for the entire afternoon, up until we needed another break for dinner. Once again, we adjourned, but then everyone came back as dusk grew.
We played until dark -- then amazingly, the street lights came on and we continued to play. I don't recall the score or even who won, but the fun of having almost our entire neighborhood there and enjoying themselves was unusual, enjoyable, and memorable.
The game ended later that evening when we (finally) all tired out. Paul announced the winner and thanked everyone for playing, and he made sure the kid who brought the 'really good' gym quality kickball got it back. We cleaned up the street and removed the temporary bases we had placed there so the road was back to normal.
Paul would be going to high school in a few short months, so we all knew it would be unlikely he would ever participate again. Maybe that's the reason the game lasted so long -- it was a fond farewell.
It was our last game. We all moved on, and most if not all of the neighborhood eventually moved out.
I thought about that game, and the shortness of our childhoods. Everything we experience flies by so quickly, but that Saturday summer day-long game seemed to be telling us all something. My brother was a born leader, he was the oldest in our family and used to taking ownership -- and the rest of the kids saw that and respected him for it. I doubt any of us saw it as our last hurrah, but in hindsight that's what it was. I hope others who were there remember it as fondly as I still do.
Paul Sardi
Paul Sardi
Kristen Lee (Sardi) Kenny was born to Paul Sardi. Family, friend, or fan, this family history biography is for you to remember Kristen Lee Kenny.
Yesterday (June 29th) would have been Paul's 65th birthday. While some people are considering retirement by that age, my brother was too high-energy for that -- he would have been 100% immersed in living his life.
When we were kids, this event was a big deal. We would have just gotten out of school for summer recess, and Paul's birthday was basically the start of the summer for us. It was one of the few celebrations we had as family, and with four brothers all born in the summer, it made for fun times, one birthday after another.
It would have been a day of playing outdoors, and then pausing for a cook-out and birthday cake later in the day. We would get each other gifts, not high in value but something we all felt compelled to do to show we cared. We were all in it -- together.
It was an exciting day to look forward to, and we all did. The date was firmly embedded in our minds, since Paul was our de-facto leader. He was fun to be around, with a huge smile, a killer wit for comedy, and an inexhaustible supply of energy. You never knew what might happen next, but for sure -- it would make the day memorable.
June 29th -- was one of the best days of the year.
As time goes by, you start realizing the 'noises' caused by life around you -- whether problems, exciting events, family, games played, commotion -- are all part of our lives. They give our lives the gift of involvement.
Yesterday -- was a very quiet day, and it came and went, like any other day. All that remains are the thoughts of what was, and what might have been.
Paul Sardi
Paul Sardi
Paul Sardi's Chess Set, opened
This is his chess set, opened to show the pieces and the magnetic latch he added.
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Paul Sardi's Chess Set
Since I wrote about his chess experiences, I decided I should post a picture of the chess set I mention in the story.
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Karen Cecelia Stokke married Michael D. Tucker on December 27, 1985, in Clallam County, Washington. They were both living in Hailey Idaho. Karen was 35 and Michael was 41. Karen's brother, Karl was a witness.
Kristen Kenny
About me:I haven't shared any details about myself.
Kathy Pinna
I'm a Founder of AncientFaces and support the community answering questions & helping members make connections to the past (thus my official title of Founder & Content and Community Support ). For me, it's been a labor of love for over 20 years. I truly believe with all of my heart that everyone should be remembered for generations to come.
I am 2nd generation San Jose and have seen a lot of changes in the area while growing up. We used to be known as the "Valley of Heart's Delight" (because the Valley was covered with orchards and there were many canneries to process the food grown here, which shipped all over the US) - now we have adopted the nickname "Capital of Silicon Valley" and Apple, Ebay, Adobe, Netflix, Facebook, and many more tech companies are within a few miles of my current home in San Jose (including AncientFaces). From a small town of 25,000, we have grown to 1 million plus. And when you add in all of the communities surrounding us (for instance, Saratoga, where I attended high school, living a block from our previous Mayor), we are truly one of the big cities in the US. I am so very proud of my hometown. For more information see Kathy - Founder & Content and Community Director
My family began AncientFaces because we believe that unique photos and stories that show who people are/were should be shared with the world.
My family began AncientFaces because we believe that unique photos and stories that show who people are/were should be shared with the world.
When Paul and I were very young (6 or 7), our father taught us how to play chess. For a long time, when we played against him, we lost; and Paul and I playing against each other -- well, we were evenly matched (both just learning). My father wouldn't 'just let us win' because he said we would never learn that way.
Eventually, Paul found that he had classmates in grammar school who had also learned how to play chess. He would play them during lunch, and anytime he lost -- he vowed to get better. He went to book stores and purchased anything he could find that gave grandmaster insights into the best ways to play chess. As time went by, he got better and better.
We used to go to tournaments hosted by local hotels. He did very well in those, never entirely winning, but not doing too poorly, either. One year, a grandmaster held a tournament at the Connecticut Post Mall, and played 100 simultaneous games -- my brother was one of the 100. Amazingly, he didn't win, but he was offered a draw (neither player wins or loses) -- quite an achievement for an 11-year-old. His prize -- he got to keep the chess set he played on against the grandmaster.
I've mentioned that Paul and I were Boy Scouts. One year at camp, one of the counselors was (unbeknownst to us) the captain of the Yale Chess club. On Friday night during the week, the counselor offered to play chess against anyone who wanted to play. Of course, he beat everyone -- except my brother. They fought it out until the end -- I don't recall who finally won, but the counselor was so impressed with my brother's game that he asked if they could stay in touch when the camp season ended.
Paul was a member of the JLHS Chess Club during high school, and I knew it gave him a chance to use the intellectual skills required to play serious games of chess with his peers, into which he had committed so much time and effort. He was also a member of the USCF (United States Chess Federation) with a rating of ~1600 based on tournament play.
One day, my brother asked my father for a game. They played a very tough game -- and my brother won. Sadly, once Paul won, my father said he would not play against him again because my brother had proven himself to be the better player. I can recall Paul asking him to play after that, and my father declining repeatedly.
Paul was quite bitter about our father not being willing to play him anymore -- he never quite understood the rationale. For some time, he would ask and try to be very 'friendly' in his approach -- but as time went by, he started realizing that our father absolutely intended to never play him again. I felt bad for him, because Paul wouldn't have gloated if he won -- he just wanted the comradery.
Unfortunately, I did the same thing -- after a while, I never (or hardly ever) won. He was just so superior a player that I had no hope of winning. But maybe I just wasn't into it as much as he was, so we played once in a great while.
I look back at this and realize there was a time when we played -- for the last time. I wouldn't have known it back then, but I feel sad that he wanted to spend time with me but I just couldn't stand to keep losing. I should have just played for the fun of it. I'm sure our last game ended in his victory.
When he died, I requested the chess piece and the word 'checkmate' be added as symbols on his headstone. They weren't originally there -- it was never clear to me if my parents understood how much the game meant to him. It was a word I had heard him say many times as I lost the game, so, for me -- I felt his headstone would say *something* about who he was in life.
To be sure -- his playing was never about 'I'm better than you'. It was the fun and excitement of playing, and even when he lost, he felt like he had gained something in return. In later years, when we played and I (infrequently) won -- he would tell me that I had played very well and used techniques that were smart, and 'not out of the books'. High praise from such a talented player.
I have his last chess set -- when he died, I asked for it because it was so important and meaningful to him. It is a simple, low-cost, fold-in-half set with internal storage for the pieces. He must have disliked its ability to open too easily (there was no latch), so he added a magnetic catch to hold the halves together when closed. The workmanship wasn't great, but the catch he added still works almost 50 years later.
For years, I've opened the set to hold the pieces, remembering when he offered to play and I said I wouldn't -- these days, I would be very happy just to lose.
Paul Sardi
Paul Sardi
