Remembering

Last night I went to the basement in search of my prom pictures to take to girl's night out on Saturday. I knew about where they were. The first place I looked was with my Coeur d' Alene High School yearbooks (1987-1990). The pictures weren't there, but whenever I touch my yearbooks at least an hour of looking at pictures, reading notes, and reminiscing occurs. I was flipping through, smiling at the big hair of the 80's when I came across some newspaper clippings. They were from the CDA Press dated January 26, 2002. It was the story of Tory Kelsey. He was killed in a gun accident in California while serving in the Marines. I knew Tory. I was in choir with him and picked him up every morning at 6:45 to drive him to jazz choir class. Some mornings he was fully dressed, but most of the time he came out carrying shoes or a shirt or some other article of clothing. Tory was one of those kids who fit in with every group. Everyone loved him and his smile could light up a room. And he was cute. He came to CHS in our junior year and the first day he walked into choir class all the girls froze. We were used to choir geeks (no offense, I was one, too), so this boy who was absolutely cool and gorgeous was a breath of fresh air. And he could sing. Our choir concert audiences grew that year simply because there were so many more 16 year old girls coming just to see Tory. He was fun and funny and sweet and smart.

It's hard when you're 19 and someone your age dies. It is especially hard when that death was absolutely preventable. And it's even harder when the person who died could have changed the world. Our choir teacher called a bunch of us to sing at Tory's funeral. We gathered in our choir room at CHS for practice. I guess when you enter the military you kind of plan your funeral. Tory had chosen "Nights in White Satin" and "Old Irish Blessing" as the songs he wanted sung. So that's what we did. Through tears and shared memories we learned the songs. And later that week, we sang them at his funeral. The night before the funeral, a friend and I went to the viewing at the funeral home. There he was, lying in a casket in his Marine uniform. I kept expecting him to sit up and smile. But he didn't. I realized then that he was really gone. The funeral was hard. It always is I guess. But he was 19. He hadn't really lived. He never got married or had children or did all the things that I know he would have wanted to do. Tory is 19 forever.

Also with the newspaper clippings, I found a copy of a letter he had written to our choir teacher. Here is what he wrote in closing his letter to her.

But one last thing I've learned. Music is the last form of magic man has to himself. Think about it. Nature makes music: birds, insects, animals, waterfalls, rain, thunder, whales, and just life in general. Music holds the key to peace, especially in one's own soul. You, ma'am, are a magician and teacher of magic. You teach the children and they learn the beauty. Music can make us happy, sad, strong and invincible or cowardly, depending on how it is played. That is powerful magic. Teach on and change the world.

Irish Blessing and Love,
Tory L. Kelsey
LCpl./USMC
Tenor

Tory,
May the road rise to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. The sun shine warm upon your face. The rains fall soft upon your fields. And until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of his hand.
Love,
Jen