Good Night Uncle Scoooty

Warning!  I wrote this for myself, let it set, then decided to post it.  If you don't want to read anything that is not about my pets and anything happy.... Don't read this!




Thursday August 25th, my Uncle finally succumbed to his brain cancer.  He was 49 years old.  He left behind his wife of 25 years Kathy Jo (yes, Scoooty made it to his 25th wedding anniversary, and Kathy Jo's birthday as well!), his loyal dog (who about two weeks ago, started refusing to go for walks with my mom),a loving family, friends, and comunity.

Scoooty was known to everyone in his Home Town, because most people there, have practically been there their whole lives.  And those who haven't are always filled in some way some how...  So Scoooty's family owned a small service/gas station in the Home Town.  Scoooty worked there for quite some time, being a kid in the time frame I am speaking about...I don't know when the beginning was, but sometime while he was still living at home and going to school; moved on to early adulthood until the end of the service station's days, I really don't know how long that was...  But really it doesn't matter.  Scooooty worked there...It was the kind of service station that pumped your gas (unless you requested otherwise...and I doubt anyone ever did) checked your tire pressure, checked your oil and fluids, and washed your windshield. It was also the kind of place where a 14 year old kid with her newly issued drivers license could pull up and blurt out, "Grandpa Dick said not to turn it (the truck) off until I got home, because we left the lights on all night and the battery needs to charge... He also said to have you put $20.00 in the tank and he or Grandma will be in later today and pay for it...." and they smiled and filled you up to $20.00....sent you on your way.  No matter that they most certainly could have jump started the truck if the 11 miles you had just traveled wasn't enough charge.  They were what you call good people.

I really don't know how old I was when I came to the realization that Scoooty looked an awful lot like young Elvis Presley.  I was old enough to know Elvis was dead and there was no way he could be Elvis...  But for a long time, I pretended that Elvis was in the Home Town and washing my moms windshield.  I also at some point realized I could look up his nose when he leaned over the car...  So I did...  Every chance I got.  I don't know why...mostly I am sure because although I knew it wasn't "nice" I could do it...  I never saw anything of any note...  I am sure of that because I don't remember anything else about it!

At some point in his late teens early twenties Uncle Scoooty was diagnosed with Paranoid Schizophrenia.  Of course it spread through the Home Town like wild fire.  My parents have never ceased to amaze me as an adult looking back at my childhood.... There explanation of what happened was plain and simple.  Scoooty (he wasn't my Uncle then...had to marry Kathy Jo first) has a chemical imbalance, its not common, but not too uncommon either.  It strikes men most commonly in their late teens early twenties and is treatable.  With medication he should be normal.  Don't listen to the gossip, he still is who he was...  Of course I am paraphrasing from my childhood...  But, if mom and dad said, it's all good...  Well it's all good.

Again time line fuzzy...  Aunt Kathy Jo decides she luuuuuves Scooooty, and after some time Scooooty luuuuves Kathy Jo.   Matter of fact, he luuuuves Kathy Jo so much that he can't even tell her that he has eaten dinner already when she invites him over for pizza.  And just to save her feelings, he eats a couple of slices...with Kathy Jo and The Wyatt Girls.  He would later divulge his secrete to Kathy Jo and we would all laugh about how kind hearted he was...  Of course, I was still quite certain that Scoooty was a dead ringer for young Elvis and thought it was pretty cool that he and Kathy Jo were together.

Finally they get hitched.  Scoooty's dad retired and sold the service station and Scoooty became a full time house husband (matter of fact, once we girls got into adulthood, we would call Scooooty for recipies) while Kathy Jo worked with the Elementary students in the small Home Town.  It is then that we got to really know who Uncle Scooooty was.  Yeup, he wasn't just the guy whose nose I got to secretly look up...  He was not only V.E.R.Y. smart, he was pretty darn funny, and totally a kid at heart.

We (my sisters and I)  learned that he was a big fan of burping and farting.  He often said, "Whats the big deal?  It's natural."  Now my self...farting not so much...but man do I love to burp.  So letting an enormous belch out with Scoooty was not only kosher, it was appreciated.  Often in the early years, we would have burp-a-thons.  Just good old fashioned fun I tell ya!  (0:

At some time Scoooty let me in on a little secrete...  It's something that I have thought about off and on through the years...  He said to me, "Now you know that everyone here in Home Town thinks I'm crazy.  I mean certifiable, and you know what?  That's alright, life's more fun when everyone thinks your nuts."  Scoooty used his diagnosis as a toy, if someone in Home Town thought he was nuttier than squirrel poop...he let them believe he was.  He would smile at them just a little longer than others...just because they were that naive and he was really that smart. 
Off and on through the years Scoooty would get tattled on by one of the Home Town goody-goodies/busy bodies.  (I am sure these were the same people that would complain if we ran our horses up the road...gravel road mind you, and they were shod.  Of course in my kid's mind's eye....they were faceless old bitties and crotchety old coots...)  Kathy Jo would scold him, and he would simply switch directions and move on.  He could look those people in the eyes on Sunday at church or Tuesday at the Post Office and not hold a grudge.  He was kind to them and polite.  Scoooty knew how to treat people and make them feel important and special reguardless...

Good Ol' Uncle Scoooty was up for most anything.  Especially if there was a chance that Kathy Jo or her Big Sis Karen Sue would be annoyed.  When his father got sick, he was there to lend a hand with anything "The Old Man" needed.  When Kathy Jo's dad got sick, he was there for him too.  If Ol' Bill (as he called him) had a good idea and needed someone to execute it, he called on Scooooty.  And when the dust settled it was Scoooty who got the butt chewin' giggling all the while.  He was there when his father passed away.  He and Kathy Jo held a vidual by Charlie's side until he passed.  He loved his dad...  He and Kathy Jo were there for her dad, too when the end came.  He loved Ol' Bill as if he were his own father.   He also loved hunting, fishing, old school country music, hymns, kids, old people, and God.  Scoooty loved life!

When the first diagnosis of cancer came, he didn't complain.  He just delt.  With Kathy Jo by his side they went forward.  Never grumbling, never angry.  He joked about being radio active.  He smiled.  When the second one came, same positive attitude, some approach.  He said its in God's hands.  That was all he needed, his family and his faith.  The third cancer diagnosis was no different than the others....but scarier (if that is even possible) for the rest of us.  It was brain cancer.  He had a tumor on his right frontal lobe.  He let Kathy Jo shave his head, laughed about how now his hair was like Ol' Bills, who was in the army and always wore his hair high and tight.  Once the tumor was removed, he joked about his beany the made him wear.  His scar looked like a horse shoe.  He called it his lucky horse shoe.  Onward and upward! 

18 months after the lucky shoe scar was made, the tumor returned.  Same spot, fast growing, but removable.  Done deal.  It was removed.  A chemo wafer was put in place just to get treatment started as early as possible.  Recovery was blasting along and then small things started going on.  Things that made everyone worry.  Another PET scan revealed that less than a month after the second tumor had been removed, a third had taken its place.  There were no more operations, there was only time to prepare for the end. 

Aunt Kathy Jo took Uncle Scoooty home.  They planned his funeral.  They went fishing.  They went for drives around the area looking for game.  They had a steady stream of visitors.  (And when those visitors would be leaving and casually say if there is anything we can do let us know...  Scoooty replied the same way every time, "Pray for a miracle."  It was the closest thing to a complaint that he ever uttered....)  They held hands.  They laughed.  I am certain they cried (how couldn't you?) although I never saw it.  They prayed.  They loved each other until the very end.

When departing Scooooty never said good bye.  He didn't like it.  It was too permanant.  He always said good night....  So after each visit home, when departing for our "other homes" we always told Scoooty good night.  Nothing is permanent...and we always return....

Next Saturday we will lay Uncle Scoooty to rest.

95 Degrees... Hope These Are Accessable! (0:

http://www.youtube.com/user/WhyNotNikker#p/a/u/1/tzssrte9UqQ

http://www.youtube.com/user/WhyNotNikker#p/a/u/0/0ubh_V4KG5s

Don't Have Much To Report....

But got this today and it made me laugh!  Hope it helps someone else's day!!


In my never ending quest to improve your intelligence, this week's Public Service email concerns capitalization of letters and context. Please pay close attention.

In the world of hi-tech gadgetry, I've noticed that more and more people who

send text messages and emails have long forgotten the art of capitalization.

For those of you who fall into this category, please take note of the following statement...

"Capitalization is the difference between helping your Uncle Jack off a


horse and helping your uncle jack off a horse."



Is everybody clear on that?