The Stretch

George Watson Scott Jr. born March 25, 1937

George Scott is a realist, true romantic, quintessential Renaissance man and beautiful human being.

Sitting with George in his garage, the summer heat oppressive but for the fan humming by my side, masks on and our bodies more than six feet apart to protect George's failing immune system from the COVID-19 virus, I have the opportunity to immerse myself in the narrative of his life. Charlotte says that if she leaves me alone with George, he will embellish the stories. She smiles through her mask, eyes crinkling in the corners, pats George gently on the back and heads into the house. George confirms Charlotte's fears. "Charlotte believes in truth. I have a loose relationship with the truth. I am a self-described bullshit artist," he says laughing. The laugh gets drowned out in George's lungs, and he coughs to clear a passage for the laughter to find freedom.

A REALIST

George leads with humor. "I want to set the record for the guy who has the most life-ending diseases," he says.

George has Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia and Cryptogenic Organizing Pneumonia, diabetes and he throws in ADHD by way of character explanation. He has successfully managed to treat these conditions, although they have slowly eroded his quality of life. Recently, George was diagnosed with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS), a fatal neurodegenerative disease. This latest diagnosis, with its terminal prognosis, is an invitation for George to examine the meaning and the magic behind his 83 years on the planet. It's a courageous exploration.

When asked how he's faring with this most recent devastating diagnosis he says, "I'm pretty good at denying, it's been a successful technique my whole life." Then he thinks about that a bit and comes back with a truer statement. "I'm good at living in the present."

A realist at heart, George is clear about what's happening to his body, yet chooses to focus instead on recognizing and relishing the beauty and connection that are often more available during a time of declining health. George faces his mortality with an openness to what each day brings. He's banking his voice, so that when he loses the ability to speak, his computer will be able to talk for him. He's visiting with family and friends. He's preparing. He's brave; George is. "I would like to do death right," says George, "with dignity, humor and humanity. I'm planning my Memorial Service by recording vignettes of my life to air at my service. They can advertise it as Dead Man Talking."

On the front door of George and Charlotte's condo they have taped a quote:

"Yet it was a golden time, too, filled with fear and
certainty but also beauty, when trivialities evaporate
leaving only love behind."

THE STRETCH

George's life is defined by "the stretch." From a very young age, George has had the natural ability to recognize what he needs to do for his own good and for the good of others, and to do it, no matter the difficulty. By challenging his own boundaries, George continually expanded his comfort zone, and along with it, his self-worth and potential, growing as a person. He has done this throughout his life, over and over again.

His first challenge presented itself when George was just five years old, saying good-bye to his father who was leaving to serve as a medic in WWII. Little did George know that those first five years of his life were the best years he'd ever have with his father. Four years later, George welcomed his father home a hero.

"But my Dad no longer fit in; he couldn't get a job and had no education." The family moved from Columbus to Inkster, Michigan, near Detroit, where George's Dad was able to get a job driving a truck. "My Dad would come home drunk and physically abuse us," George says. "One night my mother packed all our suitcases and we fled. We jumped on a Greyhound and spent two long overnights riding the bus to Miami where my mother's mother lived. We managed on my grandmother's salary until my mother got a job. We settled into an apartment in Coral Gables."

Everything in George's life changed the instant they disembarked from that bus. At the age of nine, his father was no longer part of his life and he found himself in an unfamiliar community, in a hot climate, where he knew no one but his immediate family. George's resilience kicked in. He took on the role of man-of-the-house, working to help support the family while going to school. Perhaps this was the beginning of George coming into his own, setting the stage for the rest of his life. He couldn't see it yet, but he was already showing his strength of character and his willingness to do whatever needed to be done for the greater good.

"Although my Mom got a job working for a real estate company in Miami, we were really poor," says George. "I worked my butt off. I was a bus boy in various restaurants, bought all my own clothes, rode my bike to school and sold newspapers at the age of 10. I would read the paper to find out what was going on in the world and then talk to folks about the news while selling the papers on the corner. Maybe that's where I learned I could talk to anyone. People liked the little kid selling the papers and often gave me a quarter instead of a dime."

Soon after arriving in Miami, George started playing the clarinet, opening up a new world of music and bands that would propel him through high school and instill a deep lifelong love of music. "A third of my high school credits were in band. I was in the Orange Bowl Parade and played at the football games where 25,000 people showed up to cheer. I was a student conductor at my senior concert, conducting Henry Fillmore's trumpet arrangement of the Star-Spangled Banner. It was the high point of my musical life."

With good grades, little money and lots of hope, George applied to Princeton, never believing he had a chance in hell of getting into one of the most esteemed Universities in the nation, yet wanting it more than anything he'd ever wanted in his life. "It was a real long shot for me," says George. But true to the stretch that defined his boyhood, George had much more to offer than he realized. When he received his acceptance letter with a generous scholarship, he was ecstatic. "It was a fat letter and I went nuts, screaming and yelling," says George. "I was completely floored! To celebrate, my family went out for a steak dinner. That was the first piece of meat I had ever had in a restaurant." Being admitted into Princeton has remained one of George's most treasured life accomplishments.

Beginning his freshman year, George set off for Princeton, NJ, to the 600-acre campus filled with ivy-covered buildings, gothic towers, spires, vaults and gargoyles. "I'd never seen Princeton until I got there. It was like a medieval world. I was scared and excited. I knew I was dumbest guy there and the poorest."

George struggled financially in Princeton and, surrounded by many young men who attended prep schools and came with money, he was constantly reminded of his lack of funds. "Princeton was all male at the time. Guys with money would bring women in for the weekend. I didn't have money, so I was celibate," George says, smiling. When George needed money, he went to Student Aid and borrowed it. He worked the entire time he was at Princeton, waiting on tables in the Commons all four years, becoming the Captain in charge of the dining hall his senior year. And he ran the Student Telephone Directory Agency, collecting student contact information, publishing the book and then selling the directory to students.

"Princeton was the biggest stretch of my life," says George. "I was not as well educated as the other guys because my high school didn't have the academics that many other schools had. I didn't understand calculus, and I was not your F. Scott Fitzgerald. I had to read a book a week. It was hard work. Plus, I hadn't seen winters in 12 years. It was cold!"

"When my Dad was in Princeton, he felt outclassed," explains Tim, George's youngest son who also graduated from Princeton. "He didn't have the right clothes, or enough money. He felt unworthy of being there. He had to bust his ass in his classes with all these guys who made it look easy. He always felt like the kid picked last for the team. Graduating in four years was a mark of real pride for him."

George stayed in touch with his father while in college, writing more than 50 letters to him, receiving periodic replies. "I was always trying to figure out how to have a relationship with him," says George.

Disaster hit in the winter of George's senior year when his mother died. "I cried for two days," George says. "My roommates and professors were kind. It was the biggest tragedy of my life." Instead of taking a dark turn into alcohol or drugs, George took his sorrows and sough help. "I got right in to see the University therapist," says George. It is the strongest among us who know when they need help and are brave enough to ask for it. Therapy will become a frequent source of support throughout George's life.

In the spring of 1959, with his Dad, brother Bob and his grandmother smiling with pride, George graduated from Princeton with a major in mechanical engineering, laying the groundwork for the rest of his life. "Princeton propped me up my whole life. I had high standards I set for myself," says George.

THE BEST AND WORST OF TIMES

George fell in love with Kay, a nurse who worked at Mass General Hospital, and they married in 1961. They had their first child, Karen, and then their second, Suzanne, while George was working at GE doing support for the Apollo Project in Reading, MA. Then they had David while George was at Harvard Business School getting his MBA. Their last child, Tim, was born soon after the family moved to Westmoreland, NH, and George started working at Markem as a marketing manager.

"I'm grateful to my Dad for choosing to live in Westmoreland," says Suzanne. "We had dogs and cats, sheep, blueberry and blackberry bushes, Christmas trees and gardens, a salt lick and the Turkey Hill." Their Westmoreland home was a kids' country paradise. Every five years the family, dressed in tiger orange-and-black trapsed to New Jersey for Princeton Reunions. They were a busy growing family with so much going for them.

But in 1977, George and Kay's 16-year marriage ended. George was crushed. "Our marriage was a beautiful piece of glass and she just threw it on the cement and smashed it into a million pieces," says George. "I contemplated suicide. Life was so bad I didn't want to live anymore. But I couldn't figure out a pleasant way to do it. It was an incredibly difficult time."

"After the divorce, my Dad could have decided to move for more professional opportunities," explains George's son, Tim. "This was when Motorola and Hewlett Packard were hiring. But he stayed in Keene where his work prospects were smaller. He didn't want to abandon his kids. I'm grateful for that. That is a mark of his character."

George acknowledges that the dissolution of the marriage was devastating for their children. "The kids were ages 10-16; tough ages to go through a parents' divorce. I did the best I could," he says. I see the pain reflected in George's eyes and his pause seems full of the unspoken. "The kids lived with their Mom but I saw them all the time. I picked them up from school, took them to doctor appointments and swimming practices, went to their games and concerts and taught them how to drive and cross-country ski."

The breakup propelled George back into therapy and, to get his frustrations out, he started running. "My reaction to the divorce was to run. I would run 10 miles and take my anger out on the pavement. Then I got the kids to run with me and we ran races together. All my kids were runners and athletes." George ran two marathons, but he says, "I didn't run fast, about a 7:30 mile. I never got competitive."

George's heart is reflected in how deeply he feels about his family. His love comes out in listening and doing. When asked about his kids, he is proud to share, and has more stories than there is room for in this article.

"My kids are very gifted in sports and have beautiful voices," says George. Karen, who lives in Pennsylvania with her husband and three children, was the oldest child and set the stage for her siblings. She and her younger sister Suzie both played on the first Keene High School girls' soccer team. And Karen sang in high school. Suzanne, a nurse who lives in Connecticut with her husband, played soccer and field hockey in high school and sang soprano in the school chorus. David, who lives in Delaware with his wife and four children, was a jock and played soccer in high school and college and is a beautiful poet. Tim, the youngest, is married and lives in Oregon. He is super bright and followed George's footsteps to Princeton. He sang in the Princeton Nassons, a well-known acapella group preforming in four-, five- and six-part harmonies. "I'm proud of all my kids," says George. "My kids have taught me a lot."

When asked what he wants his children to know most, he responds, "I made a lot of mistakes in my relationships with you and I hope you will forgive me. And I forgive you for anything you may have done. I love you."

A ROMANTIC

"It's funny how tragedies change you," says George. "When my mother and father divorced and we moved to Florida, my life was much better than if I had stayed in Detroit. Then when my mother died, I was in my senior year at Princeton which took all my attention and I had little time to mourn. After my divorce from Kay, I contemplated suicide. Then life got better and I met the love of my life. After each tragedy, life picked me up and gave me something to live for."

"I met her on July 23, 1981. Friends set us up at a dinner party. Charlotte, a district attorney, walks into the room and, wow, she is beautiful with a great smile and such confidence! Boy, I couldn't believe my luck." George sees her as he speaks; his eyes look off into the distance in an unfocused way and a big smile comes onto his face. "The next day we went to a chamber concert and then I took her out to dinner at the Newfane Inn. We were the first people there at 5:30 and we closed the place at 11. By the time we left the restaurant, I'm sold. It's bankable. This is it. All I can do is screw it up, which I'm prone to do. The next date we climbed Monadnock, hiking the Pompelli Trail, the longest on the mountain. We started at 10:30 am and reached the summit at 4:15 in the afternoon. We came down in the dark, talking the whole way, then dove into Dublin Pond to cool off. After that we were crazy about each other."

Charlotte's memories are different, but wind up in the same loving partnership. "I barely met George before he told me he went to Princeton. He tells everyone he went to Princeton. I'm not a big-name school person. It's a real turn-off for me. But I kept an open mind. George was cute." As they spent more time together, Charlotte found they had some differences, but even more in common. "We are different. I don't do anything spontaneously and everything George does is spontaneous. I make a list; he never plans. We adore each other and laugh about the same things. My George is always full of adventures and brings an incredible enthusiasm and exuberance to our lives. He is devoted. He has made me very happy."

George moved to Amherst, MA, to live with Charlotte and her two girls, Margaret and Jocelyn, and they married in 1985.

"When George moved in with us," explains Margaret, who was 15 at the time, "he relegated himself to dish duty. My sister and I no longer had to fight about who would do the dishes; we had George." From then on, both Margaret and Jocelyn felt at ease with George. Their relationships continued to grow as the girls grew and they remain close today. Margaret, who is a clinical psychologist in Framingham, MA, and Jocelyn, who is married with four children and a manager at a law firm in Bethesda, MD, just spent a week in Maine with George and Charlotte, grateful for precious time with George.

"Georgie taught me how to be a good step-parent," says Margaret, who is a step-mother to her partner's two daughters. "He is what I try to be for my girls. He was an ally, advisor, and amazing listener to me when I was a teenager. Even more important is what he was to my mother. She was devastated when she and my father divorced. When she met George, she laughed for the first time in years. She was happy. Having witnessed and supported her and seen how unhappy she had been, it was an incredible relief when he arrived. He rescued us from a very difficult time."

As George and Charlotte have grown and evolved together, their children have been their primary concern. They helped all 6 kids financially through college. "In one 4-week period we had a kid graduate from Brown, Princeton and Smith. I had nothing left to borrow on when they all got out of school." As the years have gone by, their combined family has grown to include spouses and 11 grandchildren. They are involved in their grandchildren's lives, encouraging them through their struggles, listening to their stories, and cheering them on in their triumphs. According to Jane Shapiro, a dear friend, "George is one of the most involved grandparents I know."

Charlotte and George's years together have been filled with family, museums, concerts, volunteering in the community, and traveling. "The richest part of my life has been traveling with Charlotte," says George. "We've visited Japan, France, Scotland, Spain, India, China, and Italy. Travel broadens your perspective."

"George and my mother are my model in how to be a healthy couple," says Margaret. "They established early on, that going away for a weekend or on a trip was an important part of their bond. They would go to museums, or hike, eat out, or just drive around and serendipitously find a cool place. Their outings would reignite what excited them about each other."

After 35 years of marriage under their belts, they have only grown closer. Recently, though, the dynamic in the marriage has shifted. Charlotte is immersed in George's care. She is taking classes with experts to learn about ALS and the best ways to care for George and slow the disease. She also keeps the medical calendar for George ensuring he takes his meds and gets to his appointments and has time to see friends and family. And she helps George do tasks that are now difficult. It's a full-time job.

"Now I'm dependent on Charlotte," says George, "and our love is amazing. It's really incredible how much we care for each other. I sing her songs that are special to us. We stay home, do puzzles together. We are more affectionate. She is my best friend."

RENAISSANCE MAN

Our initial interview has stretched to a series of regular afternoon meetings where I have the privilege of listening. Instead of Tuesdays with Morrie it's Fridays with George. "We're talking about my favorite subject!" laughs George.

Over the weeks I've noticed George gets tired easier and his voice is softer and he has to work harder to clear his lungs so he can speak. His right hand doesn't work well, so it is harder to do some tasks. The decline is gradual. His eyes still sparkle, his cheeks are still rosy and his laugh makes me laugh. After each visit, I walk away marveling at how vast his knowledge base is, how accomplished he is at so many things, and how much he's contributed to the community. He has lived a big life. Charlotte says that is because, "George is fearless, he just goes right in and does it." George says it differently. "Your life is usually run by the things you are afraid of," he says. "I'm afraid of failing myself."

For 28 years, George worked for Markem Corporation as a marketing manager. He loved to travel and the company sent him overseas frequently where he was wined and dined by corporate staff, fellow engineers and customers from many different cultures. He traveled to Europe six times, England four, Tokyo six, Singapore eight and Mayalasia three times. "I traveled around the world and never got sick, never missed a flight, and never lost my luggage. I met all kinds of people, introducing them to Markem machines." This is where George's skill of being able to talk with anyone, which he honed selling newspapers at age nine, came in handy. He loved working at Markem. "I was doing exactly my skill set; pushing numbers around and dreaming up cockamamie ways to spend money," says George.

"George is quite a fascinating individual and a very likable guy," says Bill DeRoche, a close friend who shares George's birthday. Bill met George when Markem sent them on a 3-week trip to visit their European offices and customers; Bill was a Markem engineer and George was the marketing guy. "George likes everything, any subject. He has either been there, done that, or is interested in trying it and he encourages others to be the same way. He's a fun guy to be around.

"One year, George and I introduced a form printer to a Markem sales audience, but in a very unusual way. George came up with a play." Bill chuckles as he recollects the memory. "George wrote the script, picked music, created costumes. He handed out scripts to audience members and told them to read their part when the time came. Those of us who participated will never forget it!"

After taking a retirement package from Markem in 1995, George started Monadnet, providing Cheshire County with its very first internet service. "I had 20 kids working for me, all a third of my age. By the time I left we had over 36,000 customers. Boy, did I have fun with that one. I became a kid again! I was always having the kids tell me how something works. I'm not afraid of showing my ignorance and having someone teach me something."

George's gifts encompass way more than the demands of his professions. George is a renaissance man; a person who is always teaching themselves new things, always growing, a person who finds everything interesting and is afraid of little. I've never met someone who knew so much about so many things. He is a walking, breathing encyclopedia of all things major and minor. As he regales me with his stories, it's hard to type fast enough to keep up with him, he's so full of facts, names, descriptions, background and details.

Given his thirst for knowledge, George enjoys exploring a good museum. "Once I see and absorb a priceless artifact or an acclaimed painting, then I own it. I come out of a museum rich and I never look at the world the same way again."

In addition to seeking new knowledge, George is continuously perfecting his current repertoire of talents. Music has played an important part in George's life ever since his high school marching band days. He played clarinet in the Westmoreland Town Band, the New Horizons Band and later the Nelson Town Band, and he sang in the Keene Pops Choir. After being exposed to woodworking in a class at Princeton, George dabbled in the artform. His retirement, in 2003, allowed his extracurricular activities to flow into the mainstream of his life. "In retirement he has been able to let his artistic side flower," says Charlotte.

"I like to make stuff," says George, who holds up a beautiful piece of needlepoint and then a trivet he made of glass tiles. It is woodworking, though, that appealed to him the most. "I'm Scottish and cheap and I like fine furniture so I decided I needed to make some. I'm also a loquacious guy, so I wanted a quiet hobby to balance the talking, something where I can work quietly by myself."

For George, the joy is in giving his hand-made furniture away. "The kids all have 2 or 3 major pieces," he says. "I made about 50 pieces for the YMCA, made all kinds of stuff for friends and local organizations. The number of hours in those things is amazing. I get lost when I'm working on a piece. I didn't make any money but I made people happy." From tables and chairs to benches, beds, book cases, shelves and lecterns, some with intricate inlaid work called marquetry, George has been prolific in his woodworking and his generosity.

"I love the hand work, the final sanding and then rubbing on the varnish, the color and the feel of the finished wood," says George. "Charlotte said I had tool lust. I kept buying all kinds of woodworking tools. Six months ago, I gave all my tools to my granddaughter, Phoebe."

"I have become a jack-of-all-trades, master of none," George says. "There are guys who make better stuff. I know that. There are guys who are better clarinet players. But I do pretty good. I'm not overly talented or super smart, I'm just enough."

DUST TO DUST

Religion was a consistent piece of George's upbringing, attending church from boyhood through his first marriage. He was on the vestry at St. James Church in Keene and later on the Board at the UCC Church in Westmoreland.

"When my marriage fell apart, it just blew my doors off. I couldn't understand how someone could do that and be religious at the same time. Then I met Charlotte, who was brought up Catholic and is an atheist."

"I'm not an atheist. I've wandered. About 10 years ago I took a class on cosmology." Cosmology is the science of the origin and development of the universe and it spoke to George.

"For me, cosmology answers three important questions," says George. "Where was I before I was born? Stardust. How should I live on Earth? Earth is so rare we need to preserve it, so we must learn how to get along with other people so we don't blow it up or kill everyone off. And where do I go when I die? Stardust.

"The people who have trouble with cancer are the religious people who think God has forsaken them or that they did something wrong. I respect anyone's right to believe anything they want. Religion explains a lot, but when science conflicts with religion, science wins. You can prove it. I'm not afraid of dying. But I am afraid of how I'm going to get there. I don't want to be in pain or my family to suffer. I've researched euthanasia. I like the idea, but I haven't figured it all out yet.

"Boy, the last four years have been horrible," says George, referring to the state of affairs in our nation. "It's a sad thing to be facing death while realizing that our President is tearing apart our institutions when we have worked like hell to make our country a good place. I want to live long enough to vote Trump out of office.

A BEAUTIFUL HUMAN BEING

Our pasts never go away. They are always within us, and often shape our lives in ways we never imagined, steering us toward the very thing that will help us heal. George's poverty as a youngster left him with a deep understanding of and appreciation for money. George knows what it feels like to need, to go without, to struggle financially. Perhaps truly understanding need is what has made George one of the region's foremost fundraisers, sought after by many local nonprofits to help them raise money to build their buildings and fulfill their missions.

"The biggest challenge in my life has been raising money for organizations," says George. "It is hard for me to ask people for money, so I don't," he says. "I just say how important the outcome is, how great the need is, how much our community will benefit from the building or the service. I say, we need this for the greater good of our community. They ask how much money is required. I just look at them. They name a figure and I look disappointed. They name another figure and I look disappointed. Eventually I smile. I help people envision the outcome and feel the mission of the organization." George's ability to help people stretch to meet the need by not asking for money has led to successful capital campaigns at Cheshire Medical Center, the YMCA, Keene Senior Center and the Keene Public Library. I ask George if he has ever said no to an organization asking for his help. He thinks about it for a while, head tilted, eyes squinting. "Boy, I don't think so," he says.

According to Bob Englund, cochair of the Capital Campaign for the YMCA, George was a great fundraiser and maybe an even better storyteller. "George was always energetic and regularly telling stories. He would get into extended dissertations and five minutes later we would have to move on with the agenda. George is an outgoing, charming, knowledgeable, great guy."

But perhaps the biggest difference George has made with his life is in the millions of little moments he has stopped to talk to people, acknowledging them and maybe even making them laugh. "George's greatest talent is in meeting people. He can talk with everyone and put people at ease. He volunteered at Cheshire Medical Center's information desk. He is friendly, kind and compassionate," says Gary Shapiro, a close friend.

"I'm a shy person," says Margaret. "Georgie taught me early on to smile and look people in the eyes; to make a personal connection with the people around me. George showed me that if I lift my head up and smile, the world will smile back. I remember trying it out, being conscious that I was emulating him. He taught me that people are more receptive than my shy-self believed."

"My Dad is a total people person" says Suzanne. "The thing that recharges him is talking to people. He has the courage to connect with everyone. I got that quality from him and I treasure it. I have a deep, deep love for my father."

Talking to people is as fun for George as it is for everyone he connects with. "I am remarkably fortunate to have lived where I have lived and to know the incredible people I've known," says George. "I think the most fun I've had has been getting to know a lot of folks. I can usually let them know I want to talk to them by insulting them in some way. They look at me and see my big grin. It makes people laugh. They know I want them to come out and play. It's light hearted and fun. I can talk to anyone. My grandchildren don't want me to walk them to school because I talk to everyone on the way and make them late." In George's way of being, everyone matters, everyone is worthy of a conversation, and everyone has something to teach.

IN THE SERVICE OF HUMANITY

Starting at the age of five saying goodbye to his father through his Princeton years, when he lost his mother, George's upbringing required strength and courage. In response, George developed the ability to stretch himself beyond what he believed he was capable of achieving. He has consistently pushed himself to do what needed to be done his whole life, his bold dreams propelling him forward. He adapted when necessary and accepted whatever happened with humility, making everyone laugh along the way. Perhaps that's been the key to George's life-long success.

This may be the final stretch for George. But no matter how daunting, he's never let the stretch get in the way of George being George. Now is no different. Just as the sunset is most beautiful as the sun nears the horizon, George is sharing the light of his being and his zest for life with his family, his many friends, and with me, knowing each moment, each story, each laugh is precious. It's a courageous journey.

George tells just about everyone he went to Princeton. But George doesn't do that to impress people, he does it to remember who he is and what he's capable of; he does it to remind himself to stretch. He doesn't need to do that any longer. George has lived a life full of service to humanity. Princeton would be proud.

George's legacy speaks volumes about his generosity, talents, curiosity, and sense of humor and reminds us how lucky we are to have him with us. He lives in each piece of furniture he crafts, in the spirit of every organization he champions, in the bricks and mortar of each building for which he fundraises, in the gratitude of everyone with whom he speaks and in the hearts of everyone he loves.

It has been a gift to interview and write about George. When my mother was dying of ALS, she chose not to talk about her life, her struggles or her accomplishments. It was a loss for both of us. Interviewing George has been a healing and a blessing.
-- Nancy Sporborg