Double Deuce Birthday For Dee Money

Donald Ray Scott Jr. was born on this day, September 25th, twenty-two years ago today. "Dee" is now a grown man with children of his own, but images of him as a small child and teenager will forever be etched on the canvas of my memory. He and my youngest son Blake started school together in kindergarten and remained close friends throughout their school days, culminating in May of 2006 when they graduated from Columbia High School together. "Dee Money," as he likes to be called these days, was always a pleasant child and teen, easy to deal with as both his coach in sports and a "somewhat father figure" to him when he was hanging out at the Gupton household for many years when he was a kid. In fact, Dee was with my family almost as much as he was spending time with his own back in the days when he and my own boys were all involved in baseball, basketball, soccer, football and track. Donald Scott Jr. was a joy to watch compete in all of these different sports. He was always among the best, if not "THE" best at what he dedicated himself to doing. "Dee Money" was among the fastest sprinters to ever wear the maroon-and-white in both junior high school and high school, was an outstanding running back on the varsity Roughnecks football team, and was very good in the sports he abandoned when he made the decision as a high school athlete to focus on the two sports he felt he excelled in the most, football and track. I often wonder just how good Dee could have been in those abandoned sports--baseball, basketball and soccer--if he had continued to participate in them. He had the talent and skills to rise to the top in any sport he wanted to play, with ample training and coaching. I had the luxury of assisting William Minks in coaching Dee and his younger twin brothers, Jason and Justin Scott, as well as their older cousin, Andrew Jones, for several years in Little League baseball. That Scott foursome [Dee, Andrew, Jason and Justin] was on Coach Minks' baseball teams for many consecutive seasons when my son Blake was playing both minor league and major league baseball in the local Little League organization, and when they all were young teenagers on the Mudcats Babe Ruth League team. But that is all water under the bridge now, as the old saying goes, and wasting time ruminating over what might have been is just that . . . wasted time. So today, on Donald Ray Scott Jr.'s 22nd birthday, ol' Gup just wants to merely say to him, "Have a great day today, young man. I miss you lots; your absence from our lives over the past half-dozen years or so has left us wondering how you are getting along out there in that cruel old world we live in. Come see us sometime and if you happen to see my blog on the internet by some odd chance, know that Peggy and I still love you like you were one of our own boys." Happy Birthday, Kid!

Dee Scott was just like a member of the family for several years in the late 1990s and early 2000s. He and my son Blake were like each other's shadows during the period when they seemed to always be on the same Little League, youth basketball and soccer teams. The photos of Dee, who celebrates his 22nd birthday today, were taken by me, the Gupster, at the beach and around the house when Dee was hanging out with Blake, Bret and Brian. "Dee Money" was eleven and twelve years old when these candid and posed shots were snapped.

The same four outstanding athletes from Charlie Brown Intermediate School in West Columbia that are pictured below as baseball all stars joined ranks on the basketball court in April of 2000 to form a very good "Hoop Jam" quartet. Pictured above are, kneeling (from left) my son Blake Gupton and Timmy Vernor, and standing (from left) Shane Minks and Dee Scott. Timmy is the son of Columbia High School's varsity boys basketball coach John Vernor.

My youngest son Blake Gupton is pictured kneeling beside the birthday boy, Donald Ray Scott Jr., in the photo above with their fellow West Columbia Little League All Stars Tim Vernor (left) and Shane Minks (right). I took this photo in July of 2000 with the quartet of all stars and best friends with their all star team coach William Minks, Shane's dad. I was the assistant coach to William in 2000.

Losing a beloved family pet

can be just as devastating to a true dog lover like myself as having to say goodbye to an actual family member. Wednesday morning I found my 13-year-old black lab mix Shiloh dead, ending our pet's lengthy battle with cancer and other health issues that canine's must deal with as they grow older. Born on February 23, 1996, in the backyard of our former home on Reverend Swinney Street in West Columbia, Shiloh was one of 10 puppies our dog Licorice delivered. Shiloh was the "pick of the litter" in my viewpoint and, as a result, was the only one of the 10 that we kept to raise ourselves. He was a wonderful companion, loyal family pet, and beautiful little ball of fur who grew into one of the best pets this lifetime animal lover has ever had. My heart was broken on the morning of September 23, 2009, when I realized that Shiloh's life had suddenly ended. In the absence of his mother Licorice, who died a couple years ago at the age of 14, Shiloh had shared our backyard on Gupton Lane for many years with our adopted beagle dog Shasta. It was devastating to witness Shasta lying near Shiloh's lifeless body Wednesday morning, well aware that Shasta's loss of her best friend was even greater than my own. The photo below indicates just how young my sons were when Licorice delivered her litter of puppies over 13 years ago. Brian (in the center holding Shiloh when he was a puppy) is now 27, Bret (at right below) is now 23, and a bespectacled Blake (at left) is now 21. For those of you who know my children and how they appear today, one can easily figure out just how much of these boys' lives their dog Shiloh has been a big part of. Peggy and I grieve over the deaths of each of our family pets with the same sense of great personal loss that we would struggle through when losing a human family member. So if either of us appears to be having a tough time getting through the coming days, forgive us and give us time to adjust to our futures without our beloved pet. Rest in peace, Shiloh. I buried you near your mother Licorice under the big ol' shade tree you always loved to spread out beneath on hot summer days. Your absence from our lives has already been a difficult adjustment. You were truly a special pet, a four-legged buddy I will never forget. I'm glad you are not hurting anymore, for that alone I am thankful, but I'm really gonna miss you, boy!

The photos above and below were taken in 1996 at the neighborhood park on Dance Drive in West Columbia when we still had three of Licorice's puppies. I definitely had my hands full while holding Shiloh and his litter mates when they were a few months old. My oldest son Brian Gupton holds baby Shiloh in the photo above while my younger sons Bret and Blake have a grip on Licorice's other two pups who were given away shortly after these pictures were taken. I can only hope and pray that all of Licorice's puppies that were given away 13 years ago lived long, happy and healthy lives like their brother Shiloh did.

Shiloh was extremely lucky to spend the first eleven years of his life with his mother. They were constant companions in our backyard and now, after Shiloh's life here with us, the family who loved him, came to an end, he is now reunited with his mother Licorice in "doggy heaven." After I informed my wife that Shiloh had died Wednesday morning, Peggy said that our old dog, whose movement of his left front leg had been hampered by the large tumor on his chest region, was now running with ease once again, chasing squirrels in heaven. Our female dog Licorice is pictured in the back of my truck several years ago with her boy Shiloh.

In this photo of my dog Shiloh taken when he was 12 years old, my ol' boy is starting to show how advancing age and living with cancer was beginning to have an affect on him. The inoperable malignancy that limited Shiloh's mobility resulted in a local veterinarian giving him a month to six weeks to live. That was over a year ago. Shiloh was determined he would go out when he was good and ready . . . and he did.