I have many fond memories of Kevin--going to school with him for all 9 years of elementary school (K-8) at St. Therese as well as all 4 years of high school at SJM. To those who casually knew him, he was a quiet kid and pretty much kept to himself. However, those who knew him better got to see many more wonderful attributes.
On a humorous note, I remember first taking an instant liking to him because he was the only classmate shorter and smaller than I was. You might say that the two of us were the proverbial "class runts" (LOL). With this status, though, came some privileges and common past times we both shared and enjoyed. For instance, being smaller than the rest of our male classmates, we were also the fastest runners--leaving everybody else in the dust during running contests. This skill also came in handy when we would make fun of some of the "big 8th grade tough guys" (which, to be honest, was one of our favorite past times during lunch recess).
More sobering memories also flood my mind when I think of my friend, Kevin. On a few occasions, some kids would pick on him and call him names. And I distinctly remember feeling protective of him--knowing that he really didn't know how to defend himself. Not being much bigger than him, I nevertheless stepped in between him and his "attackers" and eventually talked them into leaving him alone. Of course, I can't truthfully boast of being always his protector. I remember a series of times (in 6th and 7th grade) when we actually got into several physical altercations. He'd always lose (as God is my witness), but there was an incredible tenacity and resilience in him that I always admired.
In high school (at SJM), we gradually drifted in different directions. But one thing I remember is that, over the summer between 8th grade and freshman year, he had an amazing growth spurt--going from 5'4" to about 5'8" and put on at least 30 lbs. No longer was he the "skinny little runt" that I continued to be at my own pygmy height of 5'6" and 115 lbs (dripping wet). Pointing to yet one more admirable attribute of Kevin, though, is that he never once reminded me of those times that I beat him up. If he had, I would have most certainly been "dead meat" (LOL).
Another funny memory I have of him was in our junior year French class with Ms. Beltramo. I really loved French and did very well in it; but Kevin didn't share this passion. So whenever we got our homework assignments back, he'd always get visibly flustered when Ms. Beltramo would write "Very good" (Tres bien) on mine and "Not bad" (Pas mal) on his. One time, I offered to do his French homework for him. And, to my amazement, he said: "No." When I asked him why, he replied: "Honesty is the best policy." This is the kind of integrity that characterized Kevin's life.
Circa 1988, I remember hearing that Kevin was critically ill in Community Hospital in Fresno, our home town. At the time, I was up north in San Francisco caught up in my own busy schedule as a seminarian. A few weeks after that, I received the very sad news that he had died.
To this day, I regret not having gone to see him. Very often I think of him and wonder what he might have done with his life had he not been taken at such a young age. Sometimes I even dream about him as that shy and gentle elementary school kid I remember so well. And every time I hear about a class reunion (none of which I have attended, I sincerely regret to say), he is one of a handful of classmates I would love to see. I'm not ashamed to say that I felt and continue to feel great affection towards him--along with others in the graduating class of '79. For this reason, I dedicate this tribute to him. And were he among us today, I can hear him say: "Honesty is the best policy." We miss you, Kevin. And we'll see you in the celestial reunion.
Your friend, Kelly, and your fellow classmates at St. Therese and SJM
Kellye-Kendall Jones
I have many fond memories of Kevin--going to school with him for all 9 years of elementary school (K-8) at St. Therese as well as all 4 years of high school at SJM. To those who casually knew him, he was a quiet kid and pretty much kept to himself. However, those who knew him better got to see many more wonderful attributes.On a humorous note, I remember first taking an instant liking to him because he was the only classmate shorter and smaller than I was. You might say that the two of us were the proverbial "class runts" (LOL). With this status, though, came some privileges and common past times we both shared and enjoyed. For instance, being smaller than the rest of our male classmates, we were also the fastest runners--leaving everybody else in the dust during running contests. This skill also came in handy when we would make fun of some of the "big 8th grade tough guys" (which, to be honest, was one of our favorite past times during lunch recess).
More sobering memories also flood my mind when I think of my friend, Kevin. On a few occasions, some kids would pick on him and call him names. And I distinctly remember feeling protective of him--knowing that he really didn't know how to defend himself. Not being much bigger than him, I nevertheless stepped in between him and his "attackers" and eventually talked them into leaving him alone. Of course, I can't truthfully boast of being always his protector. I remember a series of times (in 6th and 7th grade) when we actually got into several physical altercations. He'd always lose (as God is my witness), but there was an incredible tenacity and resilience in him that I always admired.
In high school (at SJM), we gradually drifted in different directions. But one thing I remember is that, over the summer between 8th grade and freshman year, he had an amazing growth spurt--going from 5'4" to about 5'8" and put on at least 30 lbs. No longer was he the "skinny little runt" that I continued to be at my own pygmy height of 5'6" and 115 lbs (dripping wet). Pointing to yet one more admirable attribute of Kevin, though, is that he never once reminded me of those times that I beat him up. If he had, I would have most certainly been "dead meat" (LOL).
Another funny memory I have of him was in our junior year French class with Ms. Beltramo. I really loved French and did very well in it; but Kevin didn't share this passion. So whenever we got our homework assignments back, he'd always get visibly flustered when Ms. Beltramo would write "Very good" (Tres bien) on mine and "Not bad" (Pas mal) on his. One time, I offered to do his French homework for him. And, to my amazement, he said: "No." When I asked him why, he replied: "Honesty is the best policy." This is the kind of integrity that characterized Kevin's life.
Circa 1988, I remember hearing that Kevin was critically ill in Community Hospital in Fresno, our home town. At the time, I was up north in San Francisco caught up in my own busy schedule as a seminarian. A few weeks after that, I received the very sad news that he had died.
To this day, I regret not having gone to see him. Very often I think of him and wonder what he might have done with his life had he not been taken at such a young age. Sometimes I even dream about him as that shy and gentle elementary school kid I remember so well. And every time I hear about a class reunion (none of which I have attended, I sincerely regret to say), he is one of a handful of classmates I would love to see. I'm not ashamed to say that I felt and continue to feel great affection towards him--along with others in the graduating class of '79. For this reason, I dedicate this tribute to him. And were he among us today, I can hear him say: "Honesty is the best policy." We miss you, Kevin. And we'll see you in the celestial reunion.
Your friend, Kelly, and your fellow classmates at St. Therese and SJM