Scott

He’d tell you the best day on the farm was the day my parents threw out a pair of box springs into the yard for us to play with and we used it as a trampoline. Later he broke his toe on it, but the fun we had on it outweighed the pain. Or maybe he’d tell you it was that hot summer day when we filled the brown, heavy duty, plastic trash can up with cold, fresh water from the red, rusty, water pump by the house. He made a platform higher than the can and he was the first to jump in.

Scott is only three years older than me. He was almost six when we moved to the farm, but when he got home from school; he would play outside with John and I until dinner. When I had exhausted my ideas of things to do outside, Scott always had something new, fun and exciting to do. We shared the title of middle child, which created an unbreakable bond. Being my big brother, he protected me. He made me feel safe. He took me through the scary halls on my first day of kindergarten. We’d wrestle around and laugh together. As Scott got older and my dad was around less, he had work to do around the house and couldn’t play as much, but our relationship was always close.