A beautiful soul, deeply loved and dearly missed.
Obituary
After a courageous battle with cancer, Scott Borland Plimpton, a beloved husband, gifted educator, and cherished friend to many, passed away peacefully at home in Simi Valley, California, on May 11, 2025, with his devoted wife by his side. He was 53 years old.
Born on July 16, 1971, in Palo Alto, California, Scott was the son of Rodney Borland Plimpton and Betty Joel Futch, and the younger brother of Laura Nadine Plimpton. When he was still small, the family moved to Hanover, New Hampshire, where they lived in a refurbished old farmhouse with a lovely dairy barn, just off a dirt road. It’s here, where Scott ran free, that he discovered his love for being outside. The rustle of leaves, the hum of insects, and the quiet freedom of those early days sparked a lifelong connection to nature.
At age five, the family moved to Concord, Massachusetts where Scott’s new backyard was a forested haven filled with towering evergreens and broad deciduous trees. He and his friends spent hours among them, climbing, exploring, and learning the rhythm of the seasons.
This early bond with nature eventually led Scott to the writings of Tom Brown Jr., whose books on survival and philosophy struck a deep chord. As an adult, Scott didn’t just read Brown’s books but also attended his workshops, learning tracking, wilderness skills, and the spiritual teachings of a life rooted in the wild. Scott was a carnivorous reader, not only drawn to philosophical and nature based texts, but also to comic books, which lit up his imagination from a young age. These vivid stories of heroes, challenges, and moral choices helped shape his early sense of right and wrong. As he grew older, Scott enjoyed watching the comic books of his childhood come to life on the big screen, appreciating the art of storytelling through film.
Scott attended Willard Elementary School in Concord and for middle school enrolled at Fenn, an all-boys school. His time at Fenn was formative, instilling in him a lifelong love of learning. Guided by Fenn’s motto, Sua Sponte, and inspired by their core values of honesty, respect, empathy, and courage, it was there that he cultivated his character and sense of fairness. He then went on to attend Concord-Carlisle High School, where he played soccer and practiced martial arts. During these years, Scott’s love of movement, discipline, and the joy of teaching began to emerge as he taught karate to younger students at his Dojo. He later earned a bachelor’s degree in psychology, with a minor in economics, from Washington University in St. Louis, Missouri. After marriage, he would go on to earn a master’s degree in education from Pepperdine University in California.
Scott’s childhood summers were spent in Camden, Maine, a place that always held a special place in his heart. During those golden days he enjoyed hiking up Maiden’s Cliff and Mount Battie as well as swimming, canoeing, windsurfing, and water skiing on Lake Megunticook. Maine was also a cherished time for family, when he could reconnect with cousins and extended relatives he hadn’t seen all year. Trips to Camden almost always included a visit to Lasalle Island, where the family spent the day at the beach enjoying a lobster bake, exploring the island, and skipping rocks along the shore.
After college in Missouri, Scott moved to Los Angeles with dreams of working in film as a stuntman. When the project fell apart on his very first day in the city, he decided to stay and explore acting instead and it was in a Hollywood acting class that he met the love of his life, Valerie Lynn Conn. They were paired together in a scene from the play, Barefoot in the Park, and while acting didn’t turn out to be their shared path, love certainly did. Their first date at the Huntington Library in Pasadena, CA, marked the beginning of a love story that would span three decades. They were married on June 5, 1999, and remained devoted partners until Scott’s passing, just shy of their 26th wedding anniversary.
Scott was a true people person, charismatic, funny, generous, and full of curiosity. As a child, he delighted those around him with his sound effects and nonverbal storytelling. He had a passion for games of all kinds, especially video games, pinball, poker, and backgammon. One of his mottos in life was “Everyone should play,” and he brought that sense of inclusivity along with the spirit of fun and connection into every area of his life.
After a few years of teaching at brick-and-mortar schools, Scott discovered the world of studio teaching when Valerie entered film school. This form of teaching perfectly blended his love for education with his appreciation for the creative arts. Over his 25-year career, he became a beloved teacher and mentor, especially during his years at Nickelodeon, where he guided young performers with empathy and kindness to be the best version of themselves in an often overwhelming world.
Scott’s adventurous spirit and deep curiosity extended beyond the classroom. He loved to travel and his work as a studio teacher gave him ample opportunity to do so, often bringing Valerie along, turning work trips into shared adventures. Whether exploring a new city or hiking a new trail, Scott approached travel with openness, wonder, and a sense of fun. He also challenged himself physically, whether he was attempting to walk 50 miles for his 50th birthday, he made it 30 miles that day, or rucking with 25 pounds in his backpack to stay fit, he loved pushing himself with quiet determination and a grin.
He was a proud member of Studio Teachers Union Local 884, where he served as parliamentarian and supported his fellow educators with dedication, fairness, and quiet leadership.
A lifelong seeker and student of philosophy, Scott was especially drawn to the writings of Ken Wilber and others who explored consciousness and the deeper questions of life. His search for higher truths and deeper self-knowledge led him to participate in men’s groups led by author Robert Masters. These groups became a profound part of his inner journey and were spaces for truth-telling, growth, and healing. Through them, Scott formed a lasting brotherhood with other men dedicated to living with authenticity and heart.
He made lifelong friends everywhere he went, from his school days through every chapter of his professional life. Scott was a wonderful friend, generous with his time, wisdom, and care. He nurtured his friendships with deep intention, and those who knew him felt seen, heard, and valued.
He faced his illness with extraordinary courage and grace. Even in the most difficult moments, he remained himself—loving, present, and unshakably kind.
Scott was preceded in death by his mother Betty Plimpton, his mother-in-law JoAnn Conn, and is survived by his wife, Valerie Plimpton; his father and wife, Rodney and Geri Plimpton; his sister and husband, Laura and Timothy Lowry; their children, Alise and Samuel; and his beloved 10-pound dog Gracie, who remained faithfully at his side until the end. He is also remembered by a wide circle of extended family, students, colleagues, and friends whose lives were shaped by his warmth and wisdom.
Scott’s legacy lives on in the countless lives he touched, as a teacher, a colleague, a friend, a son, a brother, a cousin, an uncle, and a husband. He will be remembered always for his kindness, generosity, sense of adventure, and the quiet depth of his soul.
Tribute by Valerie
My love, my life, my husband Scott left this world peacefully, holding my hand. He was the kindest, most generous soul I have ever known, full of wisdom, warmth, and an unshakable belief in the goodness of others.
Scott was deeply loved, and he gave his love freely in return. His life’s work as a studio teacher was more than a career, it was a calling. He had a rare gift for connecting with children, guiding them not only through their education but through the often complicated landscape of growing up. He helped countless young people find their footing with compassion, humor, and gentle strength. His legacy lives on in every life he touched.
Scott and I met in the most unexpected and serendipitous way. He had traveled from the East Coast to Los Angeles to become a stuntman in a film, only to have the entire project fall apart the very day he arrived. But instead of turning back, he decided to stay and explore the world of acting. I, a California native, had also grown curious about acting, and that’s how we both ended up in a class taught by Howard Fine in Hollywood.
We were paired together in a scene from the play, Barefoot in the Park. As we got to know each other and worked on the scene, it became clear that we weren’t great at acting, but we were great together. We started dating and never stopped. We married four years later, and this June 5th would have marked 26 years of marriage.
Over those years, Scott and I built a life filled with curiosity, joy, and connection. We shared a love of games, of thoughtful conversation after films, and of books that sparked long discussions. Sometimes, we even wrote poems together, trading lines back and forth, weaving our voices into one. Although we were unable to have our own children, we embraced the role of Aunt and Uncle to not only our own niece and nephew but also the children of our friends. We treasured our friendships and the beautiful community it created that became a part of our family.
Scott was also a wonderful dog dad. He adored our sweet Gracie, walking with her every day, playing with her, and carrying her when she got too tired to walk. The way he loved her was just one more reflection of his gentle heart.
One of our greatest shared joys was traveling. Whenever Scott was working on location, I would often join him, turning his work trips into shared adventures. We explored new cities, discovered tucked-away cafés, and created memories that now feel like treasures scattered across the map of our lives. Traveling together wasn’t just about seeing new places, it was about being together, side by side, experiencing the world with wonder, laughter, and love.
Scott had a profound love of learning, and it was one of the many things that made being with him such a joy. He introduced me to the writings of Tom Brown Jr. and Ken Wilber and to a way of thinking about the world that was layered, spiritual, philosophical, and endlessly expansive. We would talk for hours about the deeper questions of life, bouncing ideas back and forth, our minds exploding with wonder and possibility. Scott’s beautiful mind always amazed me, I never got tired of listening to him talk about the mysteries of the universe.
Being married to Scott has been the greatest honor of my life. I am endlessly grateful for the time we had, even as I ache for the time we didn’t get. Each day without him is excruciating. But I will carry on, just as he asked me to in his final days. I will take vengeance on his loss not by shrinking, but by living. He told me to live my best life, to carry on, and to not live less but to live more. That is what I will try to do—for him.
Scott, thank you for choosing me. Thank you for loving me so completely, so unconditionally, and so well. You were my home, my heart, and my greatest gift.
Fly now, my love— beyond the stars, into the galaxies you so often pondered. Let your soul soar freely through the great mystery, carried by light and love. You are everywhere now, and I will look for you in all things beautiful.
Please continue to carry Scott in your hearts, as I will carry him in mine, always.
With love and sorrow,
Valerie
Gallery
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Memory wall
Fly now, my love—beyond the stars, into the galaxies you so often pondered. Let your soul soar freely through the great mystery, carried by light and love. You are everywhere now, and I will look for you in all things beautiful.
Please continue to carry Scott in your hearts, as I will carry him in mine, always.
As a neighbor, Scott was always kind and always had a smile on his face whenever I'd run into him walking his dog, Gracie, by himself or with Valerie, or simply checking the mailbox. I play in a band and we've been playing and practicing for years. Often times when I'd run into him, he'd voice his love for the music we played even though I'm sure it was probably annoying at times to hear us rehearse the same songs over and over again. He never complained, never told us to be quiet, but instead encouraged us to keep going, to keep playing, to keep doing what we loved. I always tried to make it a point to say hello whenever I'd see him around the neighborhood and he'd always take the time to talk, even if just briefly. Scott just had a way about him that made you want to match his energy and kindness, even if you weren't super close with him.
While I wish I'd gotten to know him better as an adult, Scott's passion for life and his unwavering kindness was infectious and it was such a pleasure, a privilege and an honor to have known him.
In his preschool years, Scott loved to ride his Big Wheel down his family's driveway hill. The sound of plastic wheels on asphalt would fill the neighborhood while his father and my mother yelled out that Scott shouldn't zoom out the driveway and into the busy street below. He'd pedal as hard as he could with a big grin on his face.
Fast forward and Scott is back in Maine, nervously introducing Valerie to his extended family. Their connection was obvious, and it was clear his life would be spent happily with her in California.
Some years later, Scott would casually mention the child actors he was teaching, and our pre-teen children were awed at what they considered to be the coolest job in the world.
A few years after that, Scott took on the project of recording oral histories of our grandparents' generation--a thoughtful and sometimes very funny project that left a legacy for all of his cousins and generations beyond us.
At the end, I kept up with Scott through his posts about dealing with illness--a set of writings that showed Scott at his very best while he dealt with the very worst. Scott was always a great guy, but his open, optimistic approach to battling illness displayed a side of him that was new to me, which I will treasure.
I feel very lucky to have gained these memories of Scott over so many years. I wish there could be more.
FIRST TIME LAST
The last time is an illusion. It’s not real. It doesn’t exist.
Neither does the first time. It’s not real either. It doesn’t exist.
Oh, we fetishize and eroticize both and that’s real enough. The pomp. The circumstance. The ceremonies. The golden watches, memorials, speeches and poetry for every occasion. Even men’s groups.
The obsession, the compulsion to recognize and remember. All sleight of hand distracting us from the real magic. This moment. And just this moment. And this one, and this one, and…
You see why we do it right? They are all the same in their difference. And this moment, and this moment, and this…
We stop reading, we stop listening, we stop living in this moment, and this one, and this…
Too boring? Bullshit. It’s too scary. Stepping into the infinite of now. We crave the illusions of before and after. We crave a small box to echo back our own screams. How else would we know we exist?
To be the last of something requires similarity. It requires a sameness.
Same with the first of something. The first of what? The first kiss? That means there has to be another kiss just like the first, a second kiss. And that’s impossible. Seconds, thirds, fourths…none of them exist. It’s only this kiss, and this, and this…
Time kissing us gently with novelty spun anew. Do we kiss back? Or are our eyes closed, lost in the illusion of the last kiss, the kiss that only exists in our imagination…now.
Or is our heart closed, lost in the fantasy of a future kiss. A future kiss that only exists in our imagination…now.
Don’t get it confused. This moment is real, and infinitely precious. And absolutely worth celebrating! Never again will these men gather in exactly this way.
All with heart and humor.
Never again. Never again. Never again…always and forever. Always and forever.
Always and forever these precious memories, these gracious gifts will live within us. Sown within our lives they will ripen and bear fruit for all the moments to come. In our lives, in our partner’s lives, our children’s, our student’s, our friend’s, our stranger’s who pass us by but for a moment.
This is not the last time. This is not the first time. This is, and is, and is…
It is...enough.
The last gift that Scott gave me was a little figurine - which sits on my window sill - of a bear and a moose, arm wresting in the woods over a stump. The gift will make sense soon, I promise. I still have no idea how and where he found this present - so thoughtful, and it made me laugh out loud.
My story with Scott started a little unexpectedly. It was Wednesday, March 18th, 2019 – 2 pm in Ashland, Oregon. I had joined the Master's men's mentorship group. I felt completely out of place. I told Robert, the therapist, that I was going to quit, after I didn’t feel a connection with any of the guys after the first day. I almost bolted and flew back home. But Robert convinced me to go to the house the rest of the guys were renting - the house that Scott organized and coordinated. I was convinced I wouldn’t fit in, but I showed up anyway to give it one last shot.
I walked in the door, and there was Scott, with his big warm smile. “Hello! Come on in? How are you? Are you hungry? I was just about to cook, I have enough for two!” He then asked me all about me, had me open up, talking about myself. It was like he saw me. Everyone else seemed lost in their own worlds, but Scott made me feel seen, heard, and welcomed.
And then came the wrestling circle. We'd fashioned one out of a garden hose – don’t ask! I grew up rough housing, playing outside, wrestling, so I could hold my own. But Scott…Scott was something else. He was my kryptonite. I’m a pretty big guy (6’4”, 280lb), but he would just lock in and become this force of pure focus and strength. Gentle, loving Scott would transform into a solid wall, and I'd end up on the ground more often than not, sometimes head over heels!
(In hindsight, he never told me he was a black belt, I learned that only at his memorial - that explains a few things!!)
I never would have stayed if it wasn’t fort for Scott. Those first few days were a whirlwind. Swimming in the reservoir, playing frisbee, long walks…and it was during one of those walks in a park that he shared his story with Valerie – how they met, fell in love, their marriage, the accident, and their longing for children, and how it wasn't to be. It was raw, honest, and open.
Then 2020 hit. Covid changed everything. Our group went virtual, lost a lot of its spark. But Scott? He became our glue. A hundred and one emails - I looked it up! - he sent me over five years – a testament to his dedication. He kept us connected, arranging those in-between Zooms, pushing us to take turns leading, to share new ideas. It was wonderful, but also hard, and he persevered through it all.
He took me under his wing, recognized my own insecurities, started calling me “brother.” Strange, right? To have a brother from parts unknown? But so sweet. He’d check in on me, genuinely wanting to know how I really was doing. We'd slip into these conversations that felt timeless, sharing our struggles with an honesty that was both refreshing and freeing.
He told me about his renewed deep relationship with Valerie – a burst of happiness he shared during a long drive to Arizona. And just recently, before hospice, he called, checked on my family, talked about the end of his life…a conversation neither of us knew how to navigate with comfort. But he was open, honest, and loving.
We got together in North Carolina once in 2021, when COVID eased up a bit (between the waves). This was the last in-person gathering of our men’s group. Scott was our organizer, always making sure we were connected. He coordinated our AirB&B, made sure we had directions from the airport, and left notes on things so we’d easily find our way.
The last day of therapy there, I tried to draw some anger out of him with role-playing wrestling. We wrestled like the bear and the moose, clashing in the forest. He fought me hard, and I was role playing - trying hard to draw out his anger. But then he kept saying, “No, I love you.” "I love you." He was refusing to get mad. This drove me nuts - I wanted to see angry Scott! I decided to try and dominate him, and went at him with 100% of my strength. Big mistake! He slipped me, got “side control” in a fraction of a second, grabbed my torso with his massive bear arms, then lifted me… then threw me - and sent me head over heels! My ankle exploded with pain when I crashed to the ground. Scott immediately crumpled, and when I saw his face I knew he’d be suffering with pain and regret, more than the pain I was in. I knew his compassion and care would drive him to immense feelings of guilt. I assured him I would be OK, and assured him that it was 100% my fault, I knew the risk. He checked in often, and we were both relieved that it was just a sprain.
Now, we’re here, saying goodbye. It didn’t hit me until later that Scott did win in more ways than one. He proved that love does endure, in the long run. He may not have had children of his own, but he impacted countless children’s lives – his students, their families, their generations yet to come. My kids. He helped make me a better dad. The other men in our group with kids, they all said Scott influenced them to be better men, better dads.
We had a brief visit with him and Valerie last fall, after he started Chemo. My eldest son is on the Autism spectrum. Shortly after meeting each other for the first time, I looked over and saw Scott and my son hugging. Warmly, eyes closed, like they'd known each other forever. Those of you with kids know what a high compliment this is - for your child to trust a man so completely. After our vacation, I asked my kids what the highlight of their vacation was. Was it Las Vegas? Hollywood? New Mexico? No. It was meeting Scott. (My wife also said he was the NICEST man she’d ever met.)
That’s who Scott was. A gentle giant, a loving brother, and a man who left an indelible mark on all of us. He will be deeply missed.
He will be missed beyond words.
I will always remember him dancing to the music.
I first didn’t meet Scott on a show called "Supah Ninjas" in Pittsburgh. I say "didn't" because it was a one-teacher job, but I could only be there for the first couple of weeks, and Scott could only do the weeks after that. So naturally, they hired us both. We were technically the same person in the production schedule, shared the same apartment, used the same office… and yet somehow, we never once crossed paths. Like a buddy comedy show where the buddies never meet - and one person walks into the room when the other leaves...and one of the buddies looks likes Stephen King.
What did happen, though, is we talked on the phone—a lot. And it turned out, the reason we each couldn’t commit to the full show was heartbreakingly similar: we both needed time off to care for our families. Both of us had parents battling advanced cancer. We ended up talking less about the show and more about life—about family, grief, and the weird timing of it all. We became real friends without ever meeting face-to-face.
Years later, we finally met in person, and—of course—it was on a studio lot in Hollywood. We were both working on different shows on the Paramount lot, but on opposite ends. After a quick phone call, I realized I had a 30-minute lunch break, so I bolted across the lot like a cat on caffeine, ran up the stairs to his classroom, and finally met Scott in person. We only had eight minutes before I had to run back, but somehow, we squeezed in enough jokes and stories to make it feel like we’d spent a week together.
From then on, it just got better. Hikes, philosophy talk, trading dumb jokes, and even dumber jokes.
Once, when he asked me to sub for his class, he called to check in—and I told him, very calmly, that I had accidentally started a small fire in his classroom and didn’t have time to talk. Then I hung up. I let him sit with that for a little while. (Don’t worry, no actual fire that time.)
On other shows, I started leaving little notes in his desk drawers—deep in the layers of mess of pens, cough drops, post its, index cards, and mystery objects. I knew he’d never find them until the end of the season when he was forced to clean out his desk.
But the best one was during Malibu Rescue. I spent the months waiting just to set up a completely stupid punchline. I’d taped a note behind a photo on a bulletin board—something no one would notice unless the photo fell off. And one day, it did. He texted me a photo of the board. A fallen picture had revealed a scrap of paper with my signature, a cartoon mustache, and the words: “You found it.”
One random day he messaged me, and my heart skipped a beat at the opportunity “Ah… you found my secret stache.”
No one laughed harder at that than Scott. He appreciated a long, dumb setup more than anyone I’ve ever met.
And that’s the thing about Scott—he made you want to be funnier. He made being silly feel important. He made everything about you feel important. But he also carried the weight of life with such grace, such honesty. You could talk to him about anything—jokes, loss, comic books.
Speaking of comics: one day, out of the blue, Scott asked to borrow my copy of Volume 1 of the comic "Runaways". A while later Scott handed it back to me, now signed by Brian K. Vaughan himself—one of the greatest comic writers of all time. Scott had been working on the "Runaways" show, and he just… made that happen. No big gesture, no fanfare. Just, “Here you go.”
Scott was kind, hilarious, generous, deeply good—and somehow always surprising. He lived with a huge heart and found the fun in everything. He made even the smallest things feel like magic.
And dammit, I miss him.
My first impression of Scott was warm and safe, which was very important to me as a mom and former educator myself.
He was wearing a striped polo type shirt, overtime I found out that those shirts were kind of his thing! 😆
I loved it he fit right in with the students!
I also remember him greeting us with the most welcoming smile and pleasant tone in his voice. Upon talking to him, I knew after the first 10 minutes, that he loved his position and people!
I felt as if he was very well knowledgeable, comfortable and settled in his teaching role.
It was our son Jaheem’s first time working as a series regular, which meant he’d been spending most of his days working with Scott. I had a really good feeling about this new parent teacher partnership.He seemed to really care about the well-being of all the kids and the people that he worked with. My son and his cast quickly bonded with Scott!
He was an essential part of Jaheem’s learning. Over time there were a lot of challenges as you expect for young children working on an adult set, but having Scott to help him navigate through these things was amazing! Scott always found a way to get back to the Good! He was fun, funny, and he gave the kids grace!
Well, here we are 10+ years later and that good feeling I had upon meeting him was absolutely correct!
Long after the show ended Scott and Valerie became friends of ours. We have kept in touched over the years and celebrated wonderful milestones together. It’s saddened my family and I deeply when we learned of Scott’s illness. We knew he would fight it with the spirit he walked through life!
I feel blessed to have been able to witness how he faced it with such Courageousness and even a little comedy. I remember he gave “it” a name.
My family and I prayed for peace, love, joy, and healing during his process.
Now our beloved friend is free of pain, healed of sickness and his memory will live with us forever!
We are so grateful that Scott was in our lives at such a crucial time of growth and development for our son.
We love you Valerie!
May you have peace in knowing what an amazing man you shared your life with!
Love Always, The Toombs Family!
Ant, Nicole and Jaheem Toombs
For a quarter of a century, we had the profound privilege of living next door to Scott. He was a truly kind and humble man, always more than willing to help with anything at all. We will always remember our many holiday celebrations together, moments that we will now hold even more dear.
We always felt so lucky to have Scott and Valerie as our neighbors. The neighborhood won't be the same without his gentle presence. He will be dearly missed.
With love and sympathy,
Mark and Julie Leekley
You will be missed, my sweet friend.
Even at my worst moments—like having to spend a whole school day on a particularly grueling math exam that continues to haunt me—Scott did not leave me to my devices, but instead tackled every problem along with me. I will never forget one morning when I came into the schoolroom and he began discussing the videos he had watched about geometry on his own time, completely off the clock, to help me better understand it. Long after that particular unit had been completed, he was fond of reminding me of our shared travails with a knowing joke about radians.
Scott wore his care and dedication like a second skin—after all, when I picture wrapped, it was Scott who I first tearfully embraced out of anyone on set. He was and is a singular entity of respectful professionalism and personal support—as well as the standard against which I will unremittingly measure my professors when I enter college in the fall. I will treasure and miss Mr. Scott and hope that his family, friends, and Mrs. Valerie can find peace the way he would have no doubt wanted him to.
I wish I had spent more time with him as an adult, but I made a point of spending time with him as a kid. I think children have a kind of superpower of being able to see people for who they truly are. And even then, I knew Scott was special. He made me feel safe and welcome. He was kind and warm through and through.
I’m grateful I got to keep crossing paths with him over the years even if it was just a quick hello when I parked at my parents’ house and was lucky enough to catch him outside. He always greeted me with a smile, and made sure I was doing good. Much love to Val, his family and his chosen family! My heart is with you all.
Scott was such an inquisitive person by nature, he would frequently ask me about my life and was genuinely interested in the wellbeing of my family. He was so pleasant to be around that we would often over stay our time at the home even though things were done for the day. He was a giving person, funny and energetic.
Scott will be missed, and we will charrish his memory and continue to honor his kind spirit.
I’ve spent my whole life trying to be the person that Scott was and I’ve never gotten close.
Honestly, I didn’t think he was completely real. Not that I thought he was fake, just no one could be that wonderful. But hour after hour in the trenches together, day after day, week after week, he just showed himself to be even more wonderful.
He was my greatest ally on a very difficult show where we were juggling the needs of kids, parents, directors, and a crazy production. And through it all, he helped make it fun and heartwarming. We had some of the greatest talks I’ve ever had. And I watched him do so much good for so many people in the most intentional ways.
Scott was the greatest man I’ve known. And he gave the best hugs too. I miss him so much.
What comes up as qualities I remember are: playfulness, looking out for the group (and making plans for the group, generously!), ability to be impacted by others truth, vulnerability, and a kind of tough love with himself... like holding himself to the fire, when we saw what was needed...
Love, Michael
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