Memory of Bob Smith
Fall of 1957. We were seniors at Bennett High School, & members of Alpha Phi Pi Fraternity. Large part of our social life was related to our frat. We were having a stag to rush freshmen into the frat. Held at Vets Post on Taunton. Was a success, lot of people, lot of gambling.
Bob & I were partners as dealers of a blackjack game. Rules were similar to rules today. One difference, ties went to dealer. So, not surprising we began to win. But we also were very lucky. In about 2 hours we were ahead over $ 400. This was lot of money in 1957. Tuition at University of Buffalo was $ 400. Gas cost about 19 cents a gallon(not as much tax ). Most of the players were betting 5-10 cents, maybe sometimes a quarter.
A freshman, Arthur sat down at our table & began betting quarters & soon dollars. I did not like risking our new won fortune. Bob was terrified. He did not like gambling. Arthur began to win. Arthur bet $ 5.00. We could not believe anyone would bet such a large sum. He won. He kept winning & raised his bets to $ 10.00 & then to $ 15.00.
When the game broke up Arthur had our money. We had about $ 25.00 in change left.
The let-down was deep for both of us. For a long time we both talked about & thought about the fortune we won & lost.
Jim Sachs
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Friday, November 21, 2008
From Freddie Isenberg
The first time I met Smitty was shortly after I had been discharged from the Army. It was at a house party given by a mutual friend of ours. I met Arnie Kraden at that same party. The three of us became close friends from that time on. We used to go to Buffalo State Teachers College ( as it was then so named) looking to meet girls at the student union. Smitty was the only one of us attending college. Arnie was a mailman at the time. I worked in my Dad’s business and could only take a night course at the University of Buffalo. I had to work during the day at the business since my Dad was too ill to work. Smitty was by all means the brightest one of us. Arnie, at that time, had no desire to be in school and I was not the greatest student during my high school years. So we all felt Smitty would be the one to earn his college degree and be the most successful in life because of this. We were all aware of Smitty’s difficult circumstances growing up but none of us realized the destructive toll it would take on his personal relationships. All of us are deeply saddened by that fact and all of us certainly missed having a continued friendship throughout our adult lives with him. We “stood up” for each other’s weddings and remained friends through the early years of our marriages. We expected our friendship would continue even when he moved away. However, as we all know, that was sadly not to be the case.
Let me just reflect on the happier times and tell you two stories which are interesting and give you a little insight into your Dad. The first story will tell of his intellect. When he was a senior in college at the University of Buffalo and taking a math course (Calculus I believe,) he found several errors in the text book. He told the professor about the errors and asked the professor to use a different text book. The professor admitted Smitty was correct about the errors but would not switch the text. Smitty decided not to attend any of the classes. Well when it came time to take the final exam, the professor told Smitty the only way he could pass the course was to score 100% on the exam……..not 95 or 98……but only a perfect score. Smitty did exactly that, but, not surprisingly, only received a D for a final grade. He amazed all of us by scoring a perfect exam and reinforced our awareness of how brilliant he was and at the same time so stubborn.
The next story might surprise you somewhat more especially since Brian is a swimming coach. Smitty did not know not know to swim! In order to graduate from college he had
to pass swimming which was yet another course he did not attend. I took the swimming test for him! In those days it was quite easy for me to go to the class and pretend I was Smitty. I knew how to swim and therefore Smitty was able to pass Phys Ed, albeit with a D grade, but as a result he was able to graduate.
We shared many great and fun times together as we grew into adulthood. As these stories imply, there wasn’t much we ( his friends )wouldn’t have done to be supportive of him.
Tonight I spoke with another friend from the “old” gang of ours. Her name is Rochelle Benatovich Chait. She asked me to relay the fact that she has fond memories of Smitty. She said she recalls how he often attended parties that she had at her house on Friday nights during the high school years. She said it was all great fun and good memories.
We are all trying to understand Smitty’s motives for his life’s choices but I am grateful for the opportunity you gave me to speak with him once more before he died. I and my wife wish you and your family peace and all the best life has to offer.
Fondly,
Freddie Isenberg
Let me just reflect on the happier times and tell you two stories which are interesting and give you a little insight into your Dad. The first story will tell of his intellect. When he was a senior in college at the University of Buffalo and taking a math course (Calculus I believe,) he found several errors in the text book. He told the professor about the errors and asked the professor to use a different text book. The professor admitted Smitty was correct about the errors but would not switch the text. Smitty decided not to attend any of the classes. Well when it came time to take the final exam, the professor told Smitty the only way he could pass the course was to score 100% on the exam……..not 95 or 98……but only a perfect score. Smitty did exactly that, but, not surprisingly, only received a D for a final grade. He amazed all of us by scoring a perfect exam and reinforced our awareness of how brilliant he was and at the same time so stubborn.
The next story might surprise you somewhat more especially since Brian is a swimming coach. Smitty did not know not know to swim! In order to graduate from college he had
to pass swimming which was yet another course he did not attend. I took the swimming test for him! In those days it was quite easy for me to go to the class and pretend I was Smitty. I knew how to swim and therefore Smitty was able to pass Phys Ed, albeit with a D grade, but as a result he was able to graduate.
We shared many great and fun times together as we grew into adulthood. As these stories imply, there wasn’t much we ( his friends )wouldn’t have done to be supportive of him.
Tonight I spoke with another friend from the “old” gang of ours. Her name is Rochelle Benatovich Chait. She asked me to relay the fact that she has fond memories of Smitty. She said she recalls how he often attended parties that she had at her house on Friday nights during the high school years. She said it was all great fun and good memories.
We are all trying to understand Smitty’s motives for his life’s choices but I am grateful for the opportunity you gave me to speak with him once more before he died. I and my wife wish you and your family peace and all the best life has to offer.
Fondly,
Freddie Isenberg
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Sharon's memory of Smitty
Smitty was a part of a group of guys and gals who always did things together and went to house parties together, all thru high school. He, along with the other guys in the group, always watched out for us girls making sure we were safe. When I think of Smitty, my most vivid memory is of him is dancing........jitterbugging...... a cigarette dangling from his lips........eyes half closed, totally zoned out!
I lost track of Smitty after high school, until years later I had to rush my 18 month old son to Buffalo's Childrens Hospital because he had fallen off a chair, banging his head. He was vomiting and his eyes were rolling as we sat in the emergency room. All I could think of was not letting him sleep, although it was his nap time. We waited to be called, but there were many far worse ahead of us. After 2 hours, I got up to see if I could get someone to see him. Suddenly, Smitty was there, walking down the hall. I didn't even know he worked at the hospital, let alone lived in Buffalo. He assured me it wouldn't hurt to let my son sleep until we saw a Dr. He was very comforting. That was the last time I saw him. I will always remember him fondly.
I lost track of Smitty after high school, until years later I had to rush my 18 month old son to Buffalo's Childrens Hospital because he had fallen off a chair, banging his head. He was vomiting and his eyes were rolling as we sat in the emergency room. All I could think of was not letting him sleep, although it was his nap time. We waited to be called, but there were many far worse ahead of us. After 2 hours, I got up to see if I could get someone to see him. Suddenly, Smitty was there, walking down the hall. I didn't even know he worked at the hospital, let alone lived in Buffalo. He assured me it wouldn't hurt to let my son sleep until we saw a Dr. He was very comforting. That was the last time I saw him. I will always remember him fondly.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Sharon's memory of Smitty
Smitty was a part of a group of guys and gals who always did things together and went to house parties together, all thru high school. He, along with the other guys in the group, always watched out for us girls making sure we were safe. When I think of Smitty, my most vivid memory is of him is dancing........jitterbugging...... a cigarette dangling from his lips........eyes half closed, totally zoned out!
I lost track of Smitty after high school, until years later I had to rush my 18 month old son to Buffalo's Childrens Hospital because he had fallen off a chair, banging his head. He was vomiting and his eyes were rolling as we sat in the emergency room. All I could think of was not letting him sleep, although it was his nap time. We waited to be called, but there were many far worse ahead of us. After 2 hours, I got up to see if I could get someone to see him. Suddenly, Smitty was there, walking down the hall. I didn't even know he worked at the hospital, let alone lived in Buffalo. He assured me it wouldn't hurt to let my son sleep until we saw a Dr. He was very comforting. That was the last time I saw him. I will always remember him fondly.
Sharon Beckman
I lost track of Smitty after high school, until years later I had to rush my 18 month old son to Buffalo's Childrens Hospital because he had fallen off a chair, banging his head. He was vomiting and his eyes were rolling as we sat in the emergency room. All I could think of was not letting him sleep, although it was his nap time. We waited to be called, but there were many far worse ahead of us. After 2 hours, I got up to see if I could get someone to see him. Suddenly, Smitty was there, walking down the hall. I didn't even know he worked at the hospital, let alone lived in Buffalo. He assured me it wouldn't hurt to let my son sleep until we saw a Dr. He was very comforting. That was the last time I saw him. I will always remember him fondly.
Sharon Beckman
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Dr. Bob's Houma Memorial
Nearly 30 of Dr. Bob's friends and co-workers gathered at Terrebonne Mental Health where Bob last worked in Houma, Louisiana. Stories brought laughs and tears as we remembered our special friend. Jason, a male nurse, that worked with Bob and later helped him during his illness said he simply cried like a baby when he read Brian's words. We shared Linda's thoughts on "Smitty". We were delighted to know he was a great dancer and wished we would have known he was called "Smitty" sooner! Brian, Michael and their families are in our prayers and thoughts.
Ted Bergeron
Jan Bouzigard
Ted Bergeron
Jan Bouzigard
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Linda Weiss Baruch said...
MEMORIES OF SMITTY Dr Robert Scott Smith was known to us all simply as Smitty. We grew up together and some of us grew older together. Everyone who knew him and who were his friends quite simply loved him.I first met Smitty when I was in 7th grade. It was at Crystal Beach and he was the coolest dude and the greatest dancer! I don’t know how it happened but we became instant friends, a friendship that lasted well into our adulthood, til after he left his family and friends behind.Throughout my growing up Smitty was in every way but biological the brother I never had. We both had some rough times in our lives and we both got one another through those times better than either of us would have alone. My parents loved him and even when I no longer lived in Buffalo he would show up at my mom’s kitchen window, tap on it and come in for long visits lasting well thru the night. ”two meshuginah insomniacs’” was how my father described it.My parents loved his wife Ginger and she never failed to visit them when she was in town as well. They took enormous pride in his accomplishments professionally and were as saddened by his failures as if he were their own.Smitty guided me when I entered Bennett and introduced me to a group of guy friends many of whom are my dearest and closest friends to this day. He had very good taste in the people he chose in those years.He gave me “guy” advise, let me cry on his shoulder when I failed, worked like a slave to get me to understand and pass math and taught me some awesome dance moves when I still in grade school! He tried to teach me play boogie woogie on the piano and I cannot think of him in those years without smiling.Two summers when we were in high school we both went to NYC together. He stayed with an Uncle on the Upper West Side and I stayed on the lower Park Ave in the apartment of an Uncle of mine. We trolled the village together night after night, hanging out in coffee houses, going to The Blue Note and a few other Jazz Clubs. We saw Three Penny Opera together and Mack the Knife became “our” song. Neither of us had much money to spend but we managed to have the best time in the world walking all over the city, arm in arm, doubled over in laughter much of the time. He bought me a belt that was highly fashionable at the time and I have it to this day. I cannot part with it because that strip of leather is my key to a better time and to Smitty. It was a time when the entire world and all of its possibilities lay ahead of us. Smitty introduced me to jazz which has been a life long pleasure of mine, all due to him.Smitty had an enormous intellect but he had next to no discipline. He went to school on a scholarship and term after term he was called into the Dean’s office to rescind his scholarship and walked out with MORE money than he had when he walked in. His brilliance gave him stunning grades, his lack of discipline kept him from attending classes. He just got the assignments, turned in papers, showed up for tests which he invariably aced and felt that was all that should matter. Somehow he conned the power’s that be to the amazement of one and all.Years later when my marriage was breaking up he drove up from S. Jersey where he was stationed in the army to go with me on a Sunday to take my eldest Lauren aged 5 to “pre-camp” day at Candy Mountain Day Camp. He was insistent that she shouldn’t be the only child going to see the camp and find her cubby without BOTH parents. His insight into the emotional needs of a child couldn’t presage the future. She remembers to this day how Smitty was the one who figured out a way to teach her tie her shoes. I certainly hadn’t managed to teach her. She remembers his fun, his hugs and his unmatchable great big grin! As in years earlier Smitty contributed much to my getting through this very difficult time of my life a whole lot better than I would have without him. We spent millions of hours on the phone and visited in each other’s homes all the time, both while he lived in New Jersey and then when he moved to Connecticut.There is no way for me to remember the Bob Smith of those days without smiling and there is no way for me to think of him without an ache in my heart.I lost my friend years ago. I cried and mourned back then and missed him. The legacy that I got from him was the knowledge that a guy and a girl can have one of the most enduring and real friendships, truly platonic in the best sense of the word. But even more important he gave me two boys who are now two men whom I love as dearly as if they were my own. Two boys who my children know are their cousins. They are now men of whom I am justifiably proud. Proud of their accomplishments, proud of their friendship and proud of the kind of human beings and family men that they became. Brian and Michael have the kind of values and ethics that everyone I know would wish in their own children. Smitty’s last words were right on. To the extent that we as parents form what kind of adults our children will become, Ginger deserves all the kudos. I have always known, loved and admired her and been impressed with the way she raised these boys with virtually no support system. Rest easy old friend. I hope that you find peace wherever you are.
November 11, 2008 12:34 AM
MEMORIES OF SMITTY Dr Robert Scott Smith was known to us all simply as Smitty. We grew up together and some of us grew older together. Everyone who knew him and who were his friends quite simply loved him.I first met Smitty when I was in 7th grade. It was at Crystal Beach and he was the coolest dude and the greatest dancer! I don’t know how it happened but we became instant friends, a friendship that lasted well into our adulthood, til after he left his family and friends behind.Throughout my growing up Smitty was in every way but biological the brother I never had. We both had some rough times in our lives and we both got one another through those times better than either of us would have alone. My parents loved him and even when I no longer lived in Buffalo he would show up at my mom’s kitchen window, tap on it and come in for long visits lasting well thru the night. ”two meshuginah insomniacs’” was how my father described it.My parents loved his wife Ginger and she never failed to visit them when she was in town as well. They took enormous pride in his accomplishments professionally and were as saddened by his failures as if he were their own.Smitty guided me when I entered Bennett and introduced me to a group of guy friends many of whom are my dearest and closest friends to this day. He had very good taste in the people he chose in those years.He gave me “guy” advise, let me cry on his shoulder when I failed, worked like a slave to get me to understand and pass math and taught me some awesome dance moves when I still in grade school! He tried to teach me play boogie woogie on the piano and I cannot think of him in those years without smiling.Two summers when we were in high school we both went to NYC together. He stayed with an Uncle on the Upper West Side and I stayed on the lower Park Ave in the apartment of an Uncle of mine. We trolled the village together night after night, hanging out in coffee houses, going to The Blue Note and a few other Jazz Clubs. We saw Three Penny Opera together and Mack the Knife became “our” song. Neither of us had much money to spend but we managed to have the best time in the world walking all over the city, arm in arm, doubled over in laughter much of the time. He bought me a belt that was highly fashionable at the time and I have it to this day. I cannot part with it because that strip of leather is my key to a better time and to Smitty. It was a time when the entire world and all of its possibilities lay ahead of us. Smitty introduced me to jazz which has been a life long pleasure of mine, all due to him.Smitty had an enormous intellect but he had next to no discipline. He went to school on a scholarship and term after term he was called into the Dean’s office to rescind his scholarship and walked out with MORE money than he had when he walked in. His brilliance gave him stunning grades, his lack of discipline kept him from attending classes. He just got the assignments, turned in papers, showed up for tests which he invariably aced and felt that was all that should matter. Somehow he conned the power’s that be to the amazement of one and all.Years later when my marriage was breaking up he drove up from S. Jersey where he was stationed in the army to go with me on a Sunday to take my eldest Lauren aged 5 to “pre-camp” day at Candy Mountain Day Camp. He was insistent that she shouldn’t be the only child going to see the camp and find her cubby without BOTH parents. His insight into the emotional needs of a child couldn’t presage the future. She remembers to this day how Smitty was the one who figured out a way to teach her tie her shoes. I certainly hadn’t managed to teach her. She remembers his fun, his hugs and his unmatchable great big grin! As in years earlier Smitty contributed much to my getting through this very difficult time of my life a whole lot better than I would have without him. We spent millions of hours on the phone and visited in each other’s homes all the time, both while he lived in New Jersey and then when he moved to Connecticut.There is no way for me to remember the Bob Smith of those days without smiling and there is no way for me to think of him without an ache in my heart.I lost my friend years ago. I cried and mourned back then and missed him. The legacy that I got from him was the knowledge that a guy and a girl can have one of the most enduring and real friendships, truly platonic in the best sense of the word. But even more important he gave me two boys who are now two men whom I love as dearly as if they were my own. Two boys who my children know are their cousins. They are now men of whom I am justifiably proud. Proud of their accomplishments, proud of their friendship and proud of the kind of human beings and family men that they became. Brian and Michael have the kind of values and ethics that everyone I know would wish in their own children. Smitty’s last words were right on. To the extent that we as parents form what kind of adults our children will become, Ginger deserves all the kudos. I have always known, loved and admired her and been impressed with the way she raised these boys with virtually no support system. Rest easy old friend. I hope that you find peace wherever you are.
November 11, 2008 12:34 AM
Monday, November 10, 2008
You will be missed!
Dr. Robert Scott Smith
I cannot profess to know my father with a depth of experiences and knowledge like many children. I do know him from an intimacy that was created by a dreadful state of affairs and through the stories and voices of the many people whose paths he crossed through out his life. As we remember Dr. Robert Scott Smith, the set of circumstances call for a more non-traditional forum in which we express our sorrow as well as our joys in knowing him. My brother could be termed as an expert in generating this type of medium or blogging that we hope will encourage all who knew him to share their memories and experiences. This, in itself, is befitting as Michael and our father had many shared interests including different forms of computer applications.
Many of my earliest recollections of my father include playing with an old school Lionel Train set with him, seeing him get in a military helicopter, and him holding me over the rail at the Boston Aquarium as we were looking at sharks and other fish below. As we got a little older I remember shooting a basketball with him and him talking to me about the two foot set shot, the one time I saw him dive into a pool, and obviously the last day I saw him as a child. He visited about a year after my parents divorced and took Michael and me on a hike, and we watched hang gliders jumping off the side of a mountain. One other distinct memory I had was seeing all the books and files upon more books and files that he accumulated. Even then, I could tell they were not simple pleasure books, and as I got older I grew to understand the wealth of knowledge he retained. However, the most enduring memory I had of my childhood and my father was his absence and that was hard for me for many years.
I guess the great mystery in my father’s life was why he made the choices he made. I did not see my father for about 27 years. As an adolescent and young adult, I had very little correspondence with my father, mostly by his choices. Admittedly, I was very angry for quite a while with my father’s decisions, which I obviously did not understand. Yet with time, as I pursued my own journey in life, the anger that I had for these circumstances subsided. All that remained was a curiosity to know what was going on with my father. It was not yet a priority to me, but this curiosity led to our first conversation about ten years ago. I probably had not even talked to him for 7 or 8 years, and it was somewhat awkward, but I was left with a sense that for an incredibly bright individual he was out of touch with the affect his absence had on Michael’s or my life. It was at this time I think I forgave him without really saying such directly. Our conversations were very intermittent at best over the next 3-4 years. They occurred maybe once or twice a year and all at my initiation.
Unquestionably, the first event that changed the tone of my relationship with my father was my marriage to Allie and our growing family. I had a renewed interest in sharing these wonderful events with him, and he showed an interest that I had not experienced since childhood. The regularity of our conversations increased to where we would likely talk once a month over the past 3 years or so, and he would often times initiate the phone calls. There were times when Allie and I would call as worried parents desperate for answers to what was best for a sick child. One distinctive time of concern for us was when Ella was 18 months old. She had a bad virus, didn’t eat for a week, and had a continually high temperature. I probably called my Dad every day during that time, and he would talk us through Ella’s situation. In my eyes, through these last four years or so, the next natural step was to visit my Dad, or have him visit us. While logical for me, it was always circumvented by my Dad. As I visited my dad’s cousin Albert Scott in the spring of 2007 (I grew up calling him Uncle Albert), just prior to Albert’s passing, he and I called my father. Although my father initially protested to the concept of a visit from me, he acquiesced because of Albert’s urging.
The fortunate change which greatly enabled my first visit was a new position to coach at the University of Georgia later that year of 2007. This new job required a cross country move from Arizona, and I stopped at my father’s house to see him for the first time in 27 years. I think, during that entire day and a half visit, I was essentially numb in disbelief from seeing him for the first time in so long. It, however, initiated the re-introduction of my father to his family.
The last event which changed the tone of my relationship of my father was the combined deterioration of his health from his pulmonary fibrosis combined with the forced evacuation of Hurricane Gustav. Forced to leave his home of more than seven years due to a hurricane, he was left with very few options when he could not immediately return back to Houma, Louisiana. Our dining room became my father’s home for the last 61 days of his life. They will be remembered and cherished. They were both taxing and immeasurably rewarding. I did not know the man from before that well, but I knew what he liked and valued at the end. In so many ways he expressed a profound, soulful remorse for the mistakes in his life, and I told him I had forgiven him years before. He was thankful to have the opportunity to meet his five grandchildren. My youngest daughter, Gwyneth Frances Marlo Smith, was forever endearing. Over the duration of his stay, she warmed up to his presence playing peek-a-boo, giving him hugs, and just hanging out in his room. He loved to hear her hurried gait (or pitter patter of her feet) over the hardwood floors of our house, and the day before he passed he said he was going to miss “Pitter Patter”. Both Allie and I spent hours listening to stories of his past, and hearing some of his philosophies. He had a penchant for rugala and hamburgers, for over analyzing minutia, and figuring out ways to start working again.
The stripping of one’s freedoms and independence due to the complications of a disease leaves somebody increasingly disillusioned and defeated. I think the solace my dad took was being with his family and having someone sit with him and hold his hand. During the last two weeks of his life, he had lost his will to fight, but when he wasn’t in respiratory distress he still had his wits. One of his last gifts was to his first wife, my mother. “You are such a good son and it is all because of your mother. You tell her I said that.” He had said his good-byes and was ready to go and had also thought of his mother and indicated an interest in returning to Buffalo. In many ways the circumstances were tragic, but his life had come full circle. He had a renewed value in his family. Just as he had lost all of his will to fight he had a stroke and his final day was peaceful at last.
Through all these experiences I have also been able to talk with people that have known him well at different times. I think there were always common memories. He was loved, he touched lives, and left lasting impressions. Just as they all had fond memories of their time with him they all felt their time with him was too short. If anybody would like to pass on their memories we would love to hear from you.
We have chosen to honor his memory by combining his life’s passion of working with children in need with some of the life experiences of his children. My father always found some irony in the fact that I was a swim coach and Michael swam all through high school and that he almost didn’t graduate because of swimming, earning a D in this subject. We are initiating a scholarship that will provide underprivileged youth of Athens area in Georgia the opportunity to compete for Athens Bulldog Swim Club (ABSC). ABSC has served Athens for 30 years and produced Olympic Medalists. In Lieu of flowers donations can be sent to: Dr. Robert Scott Smith Memorial Scholarship, Attention: Laurie Welch, Bank of America, 1890 Epps Bridge Parkway, Athens, GA 30606.
Dad you are loved and will be missed!
Brian Scott Smith and Allie, Olivia, Ella and Gwyneth Frances
I cannot profess to know my father with a depth of experiences and knowledge like many children. I do know him from an intimacy that was created by a dreadful state of affairs and through the stories and voices of the many people whose paths he crossed through out his life. As we remember Dr. Robert Scott Smith, the set of circumstances call for a more non-traditional forum in which we express our sorrow as well as our joys in knowing him. My brother could be termed as an expert in generating this type of medium or blogging that we hope will encourage all who knew him to share their memories and experiences. This, in itself, is befitting as Michael and our father had many shared interests including different forms of computer applications.
Many of my earliest recollections of my father include playing with an old school Lionel Train set with him, seeing him get in a military helicopter, and him holding me over the rail at the Boston Aquarium as we were looking at sharks and other fish below. As we got a little older I remember shooting a basketball with him and him talking to me about the two foot set shot, the one time I saw him dive into a pool, and obviously the last day I saw him as a child. He visited about a year after my parents divorced and took Michael and me on a hike, and we watched hang gliders jumping off the side of a mountain. One other distinct memory I had was seeing all the books and files upon more books and files that he accumulated. Even then, I could tell they were not simple pleasure books, and as I got older I grew to understand the wealth of knowledge he retained. However, the most enduring memory I had of my childhood and my father was his absence and that was hard for me for many years.
I guess the great mystery in my father’s life was why he made the choices he made. I did not see my father for about 27 years. As an adolescent and young adult, I had very little correspondence with my father, mostly by his choices. Admittedly, I was very angry for quite a while with my father’s decisions, which I obviously did not understand. Yet with time, as I pursued my own journey in life, the anger that I had for these circumstances subsided. All that remained was a curiosity to know what was going on with my father. It was not yet a priority to me, but this curiosity led to our first conversation about ten years ago. I probably had not even talked to him for 7 or 8 years, and it was somewhat awkward, but I was left with a sense that for an incredibly bright individual he was out of touch with the affect his absence had on Michael’s or my life. It was at this time I think I forgave him without really saying such directly. Our conversations were very intermittent at best over the next 3-4 years. They occurred maybe once or twice a year and all at my initiation.
Unquestionably, the first event that changed the tone of my relationship with my father was my marriage to Allie and our growing family. I had a renewed interest in sharing these wonderful events with him, and he showed an interest that I had not experienced since childhood. The regularity of our conversations increased to where we would likely talk once a month over the past 3 years or so, and he would often times initiate the phone calls. There were times when Allie and I would call as worried parents desperate for answers to what was best for a sick child. One distinctive time of concern for us was when Ella was 18 months old. She had a bad virus, didn’t eat for a week, and had a continually high temperature. I probably called my Dad every day during that time, and he would talk us through Ella’s situation. In my eyes, through these last four years or so, the next natural step was to visit my Dad, or have him visit us. While logical for me, it was always circumvented by my Dad. As I visited my dad’s cousin Albert Scott in the spring of 2007 (I grew up calling him Uncle Albert), just prior to Albert’s passing, he and I called my father. Although my father initially protested to the concept of a visit from me, he acquiesced because of Albert’s urging.
The fortunate change which greatly enabled my first visit was a new position to coach at the University of Georgia later that year of 2007. This new job required a cross country move from Arizona, and I stopped at my father’s house to see him for the first time in 27 years. I think, during that entire day and a half visit, I was essentially numb in disbelief from seeing him for the first time in so long. It, however, initiated the re-introduction of my father to his family.
The last event which changed the tone of my relationship of my father was the combined deterioration of his health from his pulmonary fibrosis combined with the forced evacuation of Hurricane Gustav. Forced to leave his home of more than seven years due to a hurricane, he was left with very few options when he could not immediately return back to Houma, Louisiana. Our dining room became my father’s home for the last 61 days of his life. They will be remembered and cherished. They were both taxing and immeasurably rewarding. I did not know the man from before that well, but I knew what he liked and valued at the end. In so many ways he expressed a profound, soulful remorse for the mistakes in his life, and I told him I had forgiven him years before. He was thankful to have the opportunity to meet his five grandchildren. My youngest daughter, Gwyneth Frances Marlo Smith, was forever endearing. Over the duration of his stay, she warmed up to his presence playing peek-a-boo, giving him hugs, and just hanging out in his room. He loved to hear her hurried gait (or pitter patter of her feet) over the hardwood floors of our house, and the day before he passed he said he was going to miss “Pitter Patter”. Both Allie and I spent hours listening to stories of his past, and hearing some of his philosophies. He had a penchant for rugala and hamburgers, for over analyzing minutia, and figuring out ways to start working again.
The stripping of one’s freedoms and independence due to the complications of a disease leaves somebody increasingly disillusioned and defeated. I think the solace my dad took was being with his family and having someone sit with him and hold his hand. During the last two weeks of his life, he had lost his will to fight, but when he wasn’t in respiratory distress he still had his wits. One of his last gifts was to his first wife, my mother. “You are such a good son and it is all because of your mother. You tell her I said that.” He had said his good-byes and was ready to go and had also thought of his mother and indicated an interest in returning to Buffalo. In many ways the circumstances were tragic, but his life had come full circle. He had a renewed value in his family. Just as he had lost all of his will to fight he had a stroke and his final day was peaceful at last.
Through all these experiences I have also been able to talk with people that have known him well at different times. I think there were always common memories. He was loved, he touched lives, and left lasting impressions. Just as they all had fond memories of their time with him they all felt their time with him was too short. If anybody would like to pass on their memories we would love to hear from you.
We have chosen to honor his memory by combining his life’s passion of working with children in need with some of the life experiences of his children. My father always found some irony in the fact that I was a swim coach and Michael swam all through high school and that he almost didn’t graduate because of swimming, earning a D in this subject. We are initiating a scholarship that will provide underprivileged youth of Athens area in Georgia the opportunity to compete for Athens Bulldog Swim Club (ABSC). ABSC has served Athens for 30 years and produced Olympic Medalists. In Lieu of flowers donations can be sent to: Dr. Robert Scott Smith Memorial Scholarship, Attention: Laurie Welch, Bank of America, 1890 Epps Bridge Parkway, Athens, GA 30606.
Dad you are loved and will be missed!
Brian Scott Smith and Allie, Olivia, Ella and Gwyneth Frances
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)