IN LOVING MEMORY
BRUCE FLOYD SCOTT
My cousin Bruce F. Scott
blew into my life on Memorial Weekend a few years ago. He and Donna with
their R.V. swept my sister and me away to explore Whitman County Cemeteries.
He carved our great, great-grandmother's grave out of a lilac bush in the
overgrown Lone Pine Cemetery. The town of Lone Pine, a stagecoach stop, had
long disappeared when the railroad was built and Tekoa was established in
the late 1890s. The cemetery was the only remnant left of Lone Pine, a
corner of a wheat field overgrown with lilac bushes, thorn bushes and wild
flowers but he went straight to it. Then we took off for Farmington and
Mountain View Cemetery where our great-grandparents were buried. We walked
the rows and found the sisters of my grandfather who had died in untimely
youth or of old age. Donna and he took pictures and notes--he shared his
knowledge and he shared his techniques.
Another Memorial Weekend we flew across Whitman County in his R.V.
He had a copy of a 1890 plat map in one hand and the other hand on the
steering wheel while we looked for our great-grandfather's homestead and the
locations of a single sister's place and a married sister's place. We took
back roads and he pointed out deceased towns where only an old bridge or a
few houses and grain bins still marked the spot of the small community.
Bruce knew where the road diverged from the old map; he pointed out the
railroad bed or where the creek was compared to the way the old road must
have been routed. There was an old barn on one place and an abandoned house
on the other. Bruce knew that the square nails were used in houses in the
early 1900s and if a 2 by 4 really measured 2 inches by 4 inches than the
house must have built before the turn of the century.
I really looked forward to spring and the day that my cousin and his
companion Donna would arrive so we could take off on another adventure. But
Bruce F. Scott left this life on August 26, 2002. I feel sad and cheated
that there will be no more Memorial days spent with Bruce, spent flying down
Whitman country roads, spent listening to his enthusiasm and knowledge. He
died too young. At the same time I am so glad that I got the chance to know