A Song, Lot’s of Laughs, and a Little Studying on the Side

I wanted to share a few of my memories of Kristy. Here are some of my favorites.

I was about 15 or 16 years old when I first met Kristy. We were both enrolled at Benjamin Franklin Academy (BFA) in Auburn, WA, a Christian school that was designed to provide an education through gospel principles. Kristy was a social butterfly who would talk to anyone and everyone about just about anything. And although both of us had very strong personalities, we somehow seemed to get along very well. Perhaps it was our mutual love of music that helped the relationship along, but either way we both enjoyed each other’s company.

When BFA fell apart after an incident at the school, I thought that was the end of our relationship. Everyone left the school, and since I lived in Maple Valley and she lived in Milton, I figured I probably wouldn’t get to see her again except maybe at a youth dance or some other event. So I was quite surprised to get a phone call a day or so later from Kristy. She said that she and some others from BFA were going to form a new study group and it was by “invitation only” because they wanted to keep out all the riff raff that had ruined the old school. Kristy was quite a salesman. She made the new group sound like it would be the coolest thing since sliced bread. Then, she really laid it on thick by saying that I was just the type of person that they wanted in this new group. She extended an invitation to me to join and, of course, I couldn’t say no. The next few months spent with Kristy, Mark and Shauna Landoe, the Wagoner’s, Ben Randolph, the Burris’s and the Leavitt’s were the best. We met a few times a week at the Milton Community Center. Like Lael said in her previous post, I think we spent more time laughing and having a good time than we actually spent studying and learning. Kristy’s infectious laugh would get us all going and I would end up laughing so hard, I’d end up crying.

If it wasn’t for both Kristy and her mother, Ann, I probably would not have earned my Eagle. In scouts, I had hit the plateau that so many young men do after achieving the Life rank. After months of searching unsuccessfully to find a worthy Eagle project that I thought would meet the qualifications, Ann approached me about some of the needs of the Milton Community Center where we met for our study group. She pointed out that the interior walls were in desperate need of a new paint job and that the outside could use some sprucing up too. Everyone in our group agreed to help with the project, but it was Kristy that really came through. Being the normal rowdy group that we were, a paint fight broke out towards the end of the day. After dripping paint all over the inside of the building, we moved the paint fight to the parking lot outside. When the fight was finished, I had paint in my ear, up my nose, plastered on my teeth and gums, and all over my arms, legs, hair, and clothes. Just about everyone left shortly after the paint fight was over, that is, everyone except Kristy. Kristy didn’t say a word about the huge mess we had made inside, she just went to work cleaning it up. She could have left like everyone else, but she didn’t. She stayed. I remember feeling so bad because while I was outside, she was on her hands and knees scrubbing the carpet to get the paint out. She stayed until it was done and all the paint was cleaned from the floors.

The next week, we came back to the community center for our study group. Perhaps it was the paint fumes from the freshly painted walls, or maybe it was the fact that Shauna and I still had paint in our hair that wouldn’t wash out, but either way, we were exceptionally goofy that day. I was especially paranoid about our freshly coated walls and didn’t want anything to scuff them up. I reminded everyone over and over to be extra careful to not scuff the walls when putting away the tables and chairs. During one of our breaks, I met up with Kristy who was leaning up against one of the freshly painted walls. I might not have cared, but she had her foot on the wall to help her balance as she leaned against it. My normal anal retentive side kicked in and I chided her for having her foot on “my” freshly painted wall. That’s about all it took for her and I to start going at it like brother and sister. She said that she wasn’t hurting the wall and that I needed to calm down. I told her that I didn’t want anything to mar the new walls that we had all worked so hard to paint. She said that she hadn’t left a mark on the wall. I pointed to where her foot had been touching the wall and said, “See, there’s a mark right there!” Then, Kristy got that twinkle in her eye. The twinkle that said, “Ean, you just crossed the line and I’m going to help you back to the other side.” She said, “Mark huh? You want to see a mark?” Then she stepped back a few feet from the wall, and with ninja fighting skills that she had probably perfected on Tony and Andy, she ran and leaped into the air and performed a flying kick that even Bruce Lee would find intimidating, and with one kick, she put her foot right through “my” freshly painted wall. Maybe it was poor quality construction. Perhaps it was defective sheet rock. But whatever it was, Kristy’s foot was now lodged inside the wall. Within seconds, Kristy pulled her foot out of the wall, revealing a hole that resembled a large foot. Fortunately she was not hurt. I, on the other hand, was speechless. Audible gasps filled the room as everyone came in to see what had happened. And true to form, Kristy told a joke to lighten the mood. I don’t remember what she said, but mortified as I was, even I laughed. She then came up to me, told me she was sorry, and gave me a big hug. Years later, whenever I saw her, I would remind her about the wall and we would always laugh about how she was a force not to be reckoned with.

Both Kristy and I shared a love of music. She had the most beautiful voice and we sang together on multiple occasions. I think I was about 16 years old when she invited me to sing in My Servant Joseph. It was one of the greatest experiences of my life. I sang bass in the choir and Kristy was a superstar Alto who could sing soprano when needed. Kristy and I would banter back and forth during rehearsals. She had a lot more experience than I did with this type of music and knew the kind of sound that was needed. So, under Kristy’s “tutelage,” I learned how to sing with the same breathy quality that was on the CD. It was an amazing testimony-building experience. We sang together on many other occasions. A few months after my dad died, she invited me to sing in Greater than us All. I don’t think she will ever know how much that experience helped me through one of the most difficult times in my life. I was only 17 when my dad died in a motorcycle accident. A few months after the accident, I felt spiritually bankrupt. My experience singing in Greater than us All with Kristy and everyone else completely replenished my overdrawn spiritual bank account and solidified my testimony of the Savior, the plan of salvation, and life after death. It was nothing short of a miracle in my life and Kristy was the one who invited me to participate.

I will always love Kristy. She was a true friend, a great example, and one of the most fun and exciting people you could ever associate with. I can’t believe she was taken from us so early. It is so much more difficult for those of us who are left behind. We will miss her while we are separated but look forward to the day when we will see her again.

Ean Paget