OUT OF THE ORDINARY


Most of us are just average people. We live average lives, with average jobs and average problems. Perhaps that is why stories or movies of people that live lives way beyond the average, impress us so much. Scott was never average. When the nurse first handed me a baby, wrapped in nothing but a blanket, the nurse said, "Oh, she is so adorable." I thought, wow, she's gonna a be a big girl, but I parted the blanket, just to make sure. The nurse got it wrong, after all, the hospital probably delivered hundreds of babies a month. "She" was really a he.


Enthusiasm was his trademark. Enthusiasm about everything. He didn't just crawl as a baby, he scrambled. At my sister-in-law's wedding, I still picture him, at about two or three years, dressed in a little blue leisure suit, thoroughly fascinated, in front of the band at the reception and rocking back and forth to the music. When we lived in Japan, and he was a cub scout, he wanted to make every scouting rank and got so excited about the pinewood derby, that he stayed up with me late, until we finished it. He then sat up with me talking about it until an unexpected phone call took my attention. By the time I finished the call, he had fallen asleep on my lap.

As an adolescent, when we were transferred to Germany, the other kids would run off to play but he wanted to stay by me to help me fix the car. Not that I had any charm. I am as average as they get. His siblings sure noticed that. But Scott saw beyond the task, to what he could learn, to how he could excel in that particular thing. One day his mother and the rest of the kids were gone shopping and he donned one of my old pair of coveralls. We rolled up the sleeves and trousers so that they would fit and we changed a tire. When his mother came home she asked. "So what have you two been doing?" Scott spoke up, "I've been changing a tire on the car! Dad helped." His challenge was bridling his ego, which was eventually replaced by confidence. He knew that, no matter what anybody else said, if he gave it his all, he could do it. How many of us really believe that about ourselves?

With some kids, you have to work so hard to get them to listen or obey. You teach and teach and sometimes you get seemingly nowhere. Then again, with other kids, you sort of wind them up and get out of the way. Scott was certainly the latter. As a teenager, he joined the Air Force sponsored, Civil Air Patrol. He wasn't just contented with rising quickly in rank; he wanted to be the youth Commander or Commandant and did so. He then led his group to achieve at the national level. He would have then served a mission for his Church, but his father was so financially upside down by then, that he joined the U.S. Navy at 17 to avoid being a "burden." A fact that I learned years after he had joined.

Following basic training and torpedo man's mate school, he applied and was accepted in the Navy's Dive School as the youngest member of his class. He was hounded and hazed repeatedly by a Master Chief Petty Officer who told him that it would be impossible for him to succeed in the constant rigors of the physical training let alone the academic demands. During the school, he seriously cut his heel while in the dive tube. He knew that if he reported it to the Doc, he would be disqualified from graduating with his class. His instructors knew he had cut his heel. When they saw his determination to continue anyway, they put him through extra physical training drills, to see if he would limp or show pain. He acted as if it did not bother him at all and yet when he changed his sock, it would be soaked with blood.

Over 50 men began the Dive School, less than 20 graduated and Scott was the honor graduate, the top student of his class. An absolutely amazing accomplishment!! That alone would have been enough of a remembrance for the average, but to him it was just a stepping stone. Soon after he was sent to the Mediterranean, off the coast of Italy as a Navy diver. He later married a Utah girl in the Logan Temple and she joined him there. How they met & were married is a story in itself. They now have two wonderful children.

Later on, thru a series of schools and many accomplishments he got his formal education and was commissioned as a Naval Officer. He also went back to Dive School and received his Master Diver qualification. He achieved the honor grad once again but deferred to another student so that another might be recognized. He further went thru the U.S. Navy's EOD (Explosive Ordinance Disposal School or Bomb School) which is much more advanced than any of the other services EOD. He has served in the Middle East and works closely with Navy Seal components.

Not long ago, while stationed Stateside, he wrote the following:

"It was one of those weekends you never forget. On 29 August 2005 hurricane Katrina hit the gulf coast area, leading to billions of dollars worth of damage and almost wiping parts of New Orleans off the map. The church sent an emergency response team with truckloads of tools and gear to the site and the local area authorities called for the priesthood to "man the shovels'. For the last two months, over two hundred men from within a few hundred miles, have given of their time to meet that priesthood responsibility. Starting with the members of the church and moving on to first responders, such as police, medical and other public servants, the assistance is prioritized. I was privileged to "put my shoulder to the wheel' last weekend.

It was tough to keep our eyes open at 0145 when we met last Saturday morning, though a box of doughnuts and a coke helped. We drove the four and a half hours to downtown New Orleans and had just enough time to pitch our tent on the Stake Center lawn before the invocation. We were briefed on safety, given gloves, tools, disposable suits, tape, wheelbarrows, chainsaws and shovels. We were reminded of the need for our energy and spiritual support and broken into ten-man teams. My team was lead by my stake President and consisted of two Bishops and one Branch President. What wonderful company to serve with. How could you doubt you are doing the Lord's work in such company? We headed out to our first 'work order', not yet realizing what we were headed into.

The destruction is hard to describe. Everything below four feet was under water in many areas and residents were not allowed to return to their homes for two months. Car lots with hundreds of ruined cars and homes with caved in roofs and collapsed walls (were there). Every piece of furniture, TVs, tables and beds are junk. Carpet, drywall and family heirlooms alike are stacked six feet high along both sides of the road. Many families have little except what they packed in their suitcases when they left. All their clothes were either under water or so severely attacked by the mold that they are unhealthy. The electricity was off to refrigerators and freezers full of food and meat. They were filled with flood waters and left to sit for two months. The smell of that 'fridge juice' ( as it is called by local workers) challenges some grown men to make it outside the residence before regurgitating their last meal. Cars are stacked upside down on each other in all the wrong places and require the Brethren to physically push and pull them out of the way before assisting some residents.

We went to the first house of a local policeman on Saturday morning and removed EVERYTHING from his house. Appliances, carpet. furniture and even drywall and insulation. I think it was difficult for someone who spends his life in the service of his community to receive that amount of assistance with his personal life. Both that gentleman and many others used tear-filled words and embraced us with thanks.

At the next house we removed all appliances. Then we got rid of a tree off some one's house. All furniture from the next. The last house we removed everything. 12 hours later we returned to the Stake Center through areas of the city that still didn't have streetlights, gasoline, fast food or running water. The Stake set up outside showers with tarps and a hose ran from the kitchen sink. We showered and ate the food out of coolers that our families had provided. We read our nightly scriptures and climbed into our tents exhausted.

Sunday morning we held a sacrament meeting before returning to work for a few more hours. Over two hundred men singing 'Elders of Israel' and 'Put Your Shoulder to the Wheel' was enough to put goose pimples on your arms and the Spirit in your heart. Two Stake Presidents each gave tearful, ten-minute impromptu talks about the holy nature of our efforts. Sitting in the chapel with the local leadership of the church, wearing jeans, an LDS shirt and boots, grasping a pair of stained leather gloves, I enjoyed one of the most memorable meetings of my life. All of those fathers, brothers and sons felt the Spirit and were reminded of what was important in life. The eternal perspective that my wife and I strive so hard to maintain in our home (was felt).

I have gotten to return to New Orleans a few more times over the months and it is always humbling and satisfying. A few years ago, at a church leadership training, a General Authority told us that we could gauge our spiritual progression by our attitude. When 'sacrifices' become privileges' we are headed in the right direction. Is you Home Teaching, Visiting Teaching, service or calling, a sacrifice or a privilege? I am thankful for the service and the opportunity I had to grow. I am thankful to our Heavenly Father for all that He has given me. I will continue to try and live worthily."

Scott was never average and we are grateful for it.