Kendra Joy Haston

My inspiration to fly…by Kira Moffet (2025 Debbie Franceus Memorial Scholarship Recipient)
My love of Aviation comes almost directly from my mother… Some of my earliest memories are from our local airport - a little place called Roosterville, that ‘boasts' one of the narrowest public use runways at 20ft wide. My mom learned to fly there, and she often took me and my brother along during her training. I remember riding the hilly back-roads to the airport, where she'd speed up just a little bit as we went over the hills for that stomach-drop feeling just to make us giggle. When we got there, she'd go flying, and our only instructions were to not cross the active runway. Or at least, look both ways before we did. My younger brother and I explored every inch of that airport, all the rusty hangars and surrounding woods, checking out all the cool airplanes and hidden gems and generally being nuisances. I got scrapes and bruises, we got in trouble for learning how to turn the runway lights on and off (and flickering them incessantly) and even took home a pet frog mom's flight instructor caught for us. The airport was a huge part of my childhood, and so was my mother's love for flying.

Kendra got her PPL in 2002, and very quickly became an active and prominent member of the local 99s chapter, even becoming president for a while. She was passionate about women in Aviation, and eager to help inspire the next generation of pilots, including me. I vaguely recall a few 99s meetings, and a 99s Christmas ornament being brought home each year to hang on the tree. At some point, Kendra even purchased her own airplane - a teal and white 150L. I vividly remember the airplane, because my mom's favorite color was teal (she loved it to a zealous degree) - and the distinct color was, I think, the main reason she chose to purchase that particular airplane. I wish I remembered flying with her more; I was only ten or so at the time, but there are a few flights that stick in my memory. And I remember those flights and the airport so fondly, and those memories defined my childhood.

Kendra passed away on February 8th, 2005 in a car accident, that my brother and I were also involved in. At the time, she'd been applying to Flight Attendant jobs, from what I understand - so she could spend as much time in the air as possible while working toward her commercial ratings, to eventually become an airline pilot.

Unfortunately, she never got to live out her dream - and the family sold her airplane shortly after she passed despite my eleven-year-old objections. I want to fly it, I told them, I remember that distinctly. ‘I want to fly it someday.' But airplanes can't sit for years, so it was sold, and quickly exported to Brazil. Last I checked, it was flying with a flight school in São Paulo. But I never forgot that insistence that I'd fly someday. It laid dormant for a little while - while I worked out life in my 20s, got through college and steadied myself a bit, and learned to live with a chronic illness that put a stop to a lot of things in my life.

But 20 years later, I finally decided to jump in with both feet after a reminder of my mother put the idea back in my head. So I went back to Roosterville, and discovered that while some things had changed, some things had also stayed the same - my mom's instructor was still there and still teaching, for one thing, and I'm absolutely delighted to have him teaching me as well. He was playfully mortified - he said he'll teach generation two, but if he ever gets to generation three, he's out. But in truth, he was happy to see me again, remembered my mom fondly, and being back at the airport is honestly like coming home. I feel the closest to my mother while I'm there - the airport was her stomping ground, and there are people there that still remember her, too. Learning to fly myself, I understand her drive and passion more than ever. I honestly wish I had more to say about her, rather than waxing poetic about the airport, but in truth I was eleven when she died, and I was too young to really know her. I wish I could talk to her now - I feel like we'd have so much to share. But I feel closer to her now than I ever did, and I like to think she'd be proud of me. I want to continue to advance her passions. She did a lot of work with the 99s while she was with us, but didn't get the chance to go further than that.

While I'm unable to become an airline pilot due to medical issues, I know her main passion was to inspire future women in aviation, and show young girls and women that they can excel in aviation too. So that's what I aim to do. I'm now a student pilot member of the 99s chapter, and a member of our local EAA chapter. I do ground work at EAA Young Eagles rallies, and hope to fly in them someday, taking young women on their first steps. Like mom did for me, and lighting that spark.

So Mom, thank you for being my inspiration, and I hope you can be remembered as a woman who sought to pave the way for future women in an industry where they are sadly under-represented, and show women what they can do if they put their minds to it. It wasn't easy to get a pilot's license while juggling a divorce and two kids, and you went for it anyway. I'm proud to be your daughter, and hopefully soon a fellow Aviatrix.

As an aside - yes, I still know where my mom's plane is. I tracked it down via the airframe serial. Since it's been exported, I will likely never see it again, but… The airplane she soloed in is still at Roosterville, owned by her instructor. It's a lovely little red and white 150M, and while it hasn't flown for eight or so years, it's still in great condition with a low time engine and there's been a recent push to get it flying again (mostly headed by me). I'd love to solo in that airplane, just like mom. So here's crossing my fingers we can get her going again. It was my first solo taxi, at least!