1965 Dallas High School Graduate Scotty Carrigan in center in plaid shirt. Senior superlative: Most Studious.

I wrote this piece for the Gaston Gazette to honor Scotty Carrigan, who recently passed away.

On May 5, my high school classmate, Scotty Carrigan died. His obituary said simply that Scotty was born in Gastonia on June 26, 1947. He died in Atlanta where he was cremated. Two dates separated by nearly 70 years: June 26, 1947 – May 5, 2017. Nothing more was said about Scotty.

In high school Scotty was quiet and shy. He loved books and trains. Neither an athlete nor in the popular crowd, he worked in the library, stood around in the hall, usually by himself, and he smiled and listened to others, with little comment. He made his way quietly through each day doing what was necessary to advance into life after high school.

This is where it gets sketchy for those of us who remained in or near our hometown of Dallas, North Carolina. Scotty moved away. I learned at our last high school reunion that he made a career in trains, moving products, commodities, and people along the steel rails that crisscross the country. Scotty also found someone to share his life. His name was Jeff. I know nothing about him except that Scotty loved and cared for him until Jeff died.

Jeff and Scotty also took care of others, including a dying child they welcomed into their home and legally adopted. All I know about this part of Scotty’s life is that he and Jeff knew the child they adopted was physically challenged and had a short time to live when they accepted them into their home. They immediately moved from foster to adoptive parents. They did all they could for the child, taking the child to doctors and sitting with the child in the hospital. Scotty’s Atlanta friend who had driven him to Dallas for our 50th high school class reunion told me that Scotty was a devoted parent.

At the class reunion I hugged Scotty, who was then in the early stages of fighting cancer. I told him that I loved him. With tears in his eyes he said that my wife, Carla (also a high school classmate), and I had always been kind to him and he never forgot our kindness. I remember none of this. All of my high school classmates were generally accepting and good natured. Like any group of kids, we had our share of pranksters and practical jokers. But, as I think back, I never remember any outward acts of cruelty toward Scotty by anyone. Perhaps we were kind to him simply because we weren’t unkind.

For the past year or so Scotty called Carla and me. The conversations were long. Scotty liked to talk about trains and Jeff and life’s challenges. In my last call with him I walked out onto the patio behind my home and sat in the dimming light of the setting sun. I held the phone to my ear as I sipped a cup of coffee and mostly listened. Scotty liked to talk.

Carla called him in May and left a message requesting that he call us with an update on his treatments when he got out of the hospital. That call never came.

Scotty Carrigan was more than a person born in Gastonia who died in Atlanta and was cremated. He was a living, breathing, thinking, loving person. We loved him. We miss his calls.