scottie from shelton

It was March 1994, and I found myself sitting in a foreign building around virtual strangers. This was the third school for me to be attending thus far in 1994 and needless to say at this point…I was a kid who was uncertain of where he belonged and unwilling to reach out to others. My first day at the new school I met many new, amazing people. One in particular changed my life during the short period I was fortunate enough to know him.

“What’s your name” was practically shouted at me from a dark skinned, dark haired squat boy in the back of the room. I retorted my name back to him in my most unfriendly and bleak voice, not wanting to engage myself with anyone -- unwilling to get attached. “I knew it wouldn’t last long” was his reply. As the teacher entered the room, what an unfriendly creep was the thought that entered my judgmental mind.

I later learned he was referencing the fact that he too, like me had been at many strange buildings with strange new people -- and always he found someone eventually that shared his name. We were both “Scott”s and both had the doom of a common name -- and having to use our last names or initials for identification individuality. The more and more Scott and I got to know each other…the more in common we discovered and the more I began to have major affinity for this wise-cracking dude.

We went to the same small school for three years…each of which we found ourselves in the same classes all day long. Two goofballs named Scott are too much for anyone to handle -- and the two of us played off each other like Abbot and Costello. It was a trip to say the least.

My friend Scott’s mom worked at our school…so we quickly learned of his childhood nickname Scotty. Scotty stuck with him (much to his chagrin at times) leaving me to be called by just plain Scott. Scotty had the most drive and determination of any 12 year old I have met to date. To say he just stuck by his opinions and decisions would be an understatement. He was a powerhouse -- not letting anyone suppress him or not see his point. This is one of the many brilliant things I learned and took from Scotty.

Scotty also had what I thought was incredible luck -- ok I called it luck because he always kicked my ass at any game, competition, or argument. Later I understood the boy was incredibly gifted and talented in sports, games, and logical thinking. His luck in many minds ran out in 1998 where we found ourselves both transferring to the same new high school. And although this school was mammoth in size compared to the previous one -- we once again found ourselves in the same classes. He was Scotty -- I was Scott.

For about a week that winter, I noticed Scotty time and time again not in any of my classes. I asked around about him…he was MIA on all accounts. Frustrated and confused as to what had happened, I made some phone calls. I learned that he had gotten sick and was in the hospital. A lot of medical jargon and terms were thrown my way -- but basically his body had just shut down. Two days later I found a friends mom that could be talked in taking me to the hospital -- and was sneaking into ICU under the mask of his “cousin”. I found my typically boisterous and vivacious friend pale and breathing weirdly behind a curtain. Later it was explained to me that since his body had shut down -- they were using many machines to do the work for it. I found myself returning to this uncomfortable situation numerous times over the next month -- ignoring what I had been told about what to say and talking to him about mindless things, filling him in on the latest scoop, and telling him he better hurry the hell up and get back to class because I can’t handle the pressure of sole wise-ass. Scotty made a miraculous recovery and a few weeks after my last visit to him in the hospital I was at his house playing soccer. I told you he was stubborn.

Over the next two years we lost touch a bit. I transferred back to the same small school we had gone to previously -- to the new high school they were trying to establish. He stayed put where he was…I guess he was thrilled at the idea of being the only Scott again. In December 1999, I was called to the office in the middle of the day…where I found a teacher who knew the relationship Scotty and I had who was crying. She told me that she had just found out my little amusing, relentless friend had taken his life the night before. At that moment in time, my world caved in. The events of the following week are all a bit of a blur, wrapped up with confusion, anger, and no sleep among other things.

For three years after Scotty’s sudden death, I never let anyone call by what I considered his name. It’s a common nickname for Scott -- and anyone who came up with it for me I would simply respond with a very unfriendly and bleak voice saying my name is SCOTT. I’m over that now -- and allow those close to me call me Scotty if they wish. I actually have come to like it, because every person who refers to me with the “Y” reminds me of an amazing person from back when.

Still to this day I find myself talking to Scotty -- and asking for his help. I believe that he has now forgiven me for stealing his drive and determination from him -- and he’s on my side helping me out. Whenever I need help getting something done with persistence, he is the one I turn to. And to date, the boy has never failed me. I do not think nor do I hope his voice in the back of my head will ever go -- it’s constantly instructing me to get off my ass and get my shit done.