tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74423175279456298202024-03-13T09:06:42.890-07:00Memories of ScottThis is a Blog for Scott Toland's family to record their memories.Scott's familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12975429749506892758noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7442317527945629820.post-80438517019675390842011-02-22T00:08:00.001-08:002011-02-22T00:17:36.741-08:00Dad's Hands<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhns9FubXNjxxwZd4BXskYVF8zsodPXrqJzOUUVB1HmHXEsOKcenkj_9gkKENDF108XhR0-2EQ7ZsEd9rn0ZcUCuAhQJA9nVMqyMnBobLXlqxvS_4da9fjq7iAlpohlhmtodIVOQHiWJ0s/s320/pottery3.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 310px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576423023126487138" /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Dad’s hands were some of the most worn I have ever seen.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He never used them to play an instrument, and he never used them to braid his daughters’ hair (though how he tried).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>With his hands he never gave any great speeches or ran them through riches, but dad’s hands were far more precious than silver and gold.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Dad’s hands had fixed cars, forged metal and molded gold.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>His hands painted picture, calmed children and welcomed lost ones home.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He saved lives, helped other and held lives as they passed to our father’s home.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">With his hands dad taught, and wrote ancient texts.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He took stone and clay and molded them</p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZEUmzcZ2ekvF9FJc7r5sR1e9zVlsjbaQVhPPPufJ5cT4Egfnpp-2STRjJZ9q_IKABDzWygh7HYKi1SZ6hfW_KPuXCBQq8ZaF-jZLTsVjZ-yWij53DGkltVzt5amJIa0fy8SzzwczJ4Es/s320/Dad+in+Kitchen.jpg" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 206px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576424450850748210" />into works that’s rival no man can claim.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>His hands helped to heal the sick and assisted injured animals grow strong.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He healed wounds of flesh and soul, and when times called for it he would let you know you had done wrong.<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>My dad’s hands were never beautiful to look at.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The nails were always full of dirt and grease.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He had calluses so hard sometime he could hardly move them.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They were worn and torn from years of hard work, but no other hands were ever so gentle.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Each year he would plant a garden and watch it grow.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Each year he would fix and patch up what needed mending.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They were quick to help or wipe away tears.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They were quick to embrace a loved one to let them know he cared.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>With his hands he helped raise his children, show love, and ease fears.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Dad’s hands may not have been beautiful to sight but they were precious in so many other ways.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You hear poems about a father’s hands, their strength, tenderness and love, but nothing can replace their loss when a father is gone.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p>Scott's familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12975429749506892758noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7442317527945629820.post-80141373824305079492011-02-08T20:16:00.000-08:002011-02-08T20:38:58.420-08:00The First True Voyage of the Lady of the Lake<p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:312.6pt">Dad had just bought a boat, and it was his pride and joy.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was a 30’s model boat that he had gotten from a guy in Duchesne.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He had gone on a dive mission for the fellow in Strawberry Reservoir.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He did not find the man’s missing engine but he did return home with a motor boat.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You should have seen the look on mom’s face when we got back.</p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaaeLgXYFfeHg5kIgl7XAnfW_azKrdQLTVmQygodf2ctFUlkdHCtxIVmqIsZsL3ZmsF92DhXf9v4dSs2m3Bht1shPlHwMFVPpRM_BSTg_eRqzbJgXxJOIqJoTUzIyV7wZkRWiOP71YNUo/s320/Rivit.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571544387510312130" /><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:312.6pt">We were on the way to Jackson Hole for the boats maiden voyage.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>My friend Charmayne was with us and we had been crammed in the cab of dad’s truck for hours.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We had just made it to the guard station when I guy asked us to pull over and told us that the prop on the boat had been dragging against the ground for the last ten miles.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Dad began spouting four letter words like only dad could.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He got back in the truck and was on the verge of turning the truck around and going home.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>At the last minute he put the truck in drive and we joined the long line heading into Teton Park.</p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7vL82FvDD60h-gKxuSToUwTO2eJVlQByt4VI4JZGf_OtMcnJhCvQBuycvWfHRlhHksx-SDJi9kzNQiMb13EYaHgj7XZO88arndDZzZQ6wozDW-art7QHU0o0SNKGCccRb43BnVfh9yKg/s320/Water.jpg" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571543281367933234" /><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:312.6pt"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:312.6pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:312.6pt">It was a family reunion on dad’s side of the family and Mayne and I spent most of our time kayaking and playing with Christa in the lake.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Christa was dad’s best friend and the pup had him wrapped around her paw.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She was a border collie and was as smart as can be.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She loved to play fetch and enjoyed it when dad would throw the ball into the lake.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She couldn’t swim and hated anything that was deeper than her chin.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>At least once in every game of fetch dad would throw the ball and a wind would come up pushing the ball out of Christa’s reach.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She would cry and cry running from dad to the water’s edge her big brown eyes pleading for him to save her toy. Completely dressed dad would take off the control pack for his TENS and stride out into the waves to save the imperiled ball.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He would come ashore and Christa would greet him like the savior of mankind.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span></p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjouPd4tsgaus7ksHVMeUxB7ObIbyMtfaHW5DowaN61aHtzO8zZRnqvLWx-qMcIZOE8pm6ZNt-77yyJvLaxAW87e9Rg2eAu_r-X4mmDbG99vG023LsrK5jKmTxgdUZ76cmieWr1AeGY9sQ/s320/photo.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571543451454853810" /> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:312.6pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:312.6pt">One night everyone decided that they were going to one of the docks to have pizza (we were staying on an island kinda thing) and everyone had to boat over to the pizza place.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Dad had taught me how to drive <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">The Lady of the Lake</i> on Sandwash and I had helped drive it over to the camp.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Dad had had a couple of drinks and so he put Mayne in charge of the boat.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>She hadn’t been in a boat until this trip.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Needless to say she was a wee bit nervous.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Dad told her where to go and I did my best to help.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We made it to dock and dad jumped off the boat to tie us up.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He turned to grab a rope and a wave came up and caught the boat.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Not being quite himself dad reached out and grabbed the boat.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It kept moving farther and farther away.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Being the stubborn man he was dad clung to the boat until it drifted about 6 feet and 2 inches away.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Without even trying to stop himself dad went in.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I don’t know how he managed it but the top two feet of him managed to stay dry.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He didn’t lose his hat to the lake and his glasses remained on his head.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He pulled himself out of the drink and scrambled up on to the dock like nothing had happened.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Most guys would at least be blushing but dad just grinned from ear to ear and said “Well that was stupid”.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:312.6pt"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:312.6pt">We did make it into the pizza place and dad sat there with the rest of us eating pizza and dripping on the floor like he had wet himself.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Dad being dad was the first one to point this out.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In fact I think he was quite proud that he was a spectacle.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I don’t think I have ever laughed so hard in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Pictures of Jackson Lake take by Haylee Toland 2010</span></p>Scott's familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12975429749506892758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7442317527945629820.post-53681335429856927532011-02-04T12:54:00.000-08:002011-02-04T13:00:03.956-08:00Fishing with Dad ;-)<p class="MsoNormal">I have never been a big fan on fishing but dad always loved it and so I would always go to make sure that dad didn’t feel bad.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He spent hours on the front lawn teaching me how to cast with a fly rode, and more than once I did manage to catch something while practicing.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The sad thing was it was usually dad or Christa.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>When we went up Gray’s River for a family reunion, dad made sure that Lex and I went fishing.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Dad loved to fish in the small streams in the canyons.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It was like declaring war on the fish.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We were not allowed to talk after we got within 20 yards of the stream and usually had to army crawl to the back.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It never failed that dad would always send me into a bunch of thistles or stinging nettle. The thing is it’s not really hard to army crawl, at least not normally.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But when you are carrying a fishing pole that is twice your height, that’s when things become tricky.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I still to this day do not know how dad managed it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He slid across the ground like the Grinch fro</p><p class="MsoNormal">m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">How the Grinch Stole Christmas</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>His long lanky frame would seem to slide around the bushes and between the rocks.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Somehow he would slither around the tree and peek around it to see where his quarry was hiding.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Sometimes he would first peer over the edge of the stream just like Tom spying on Jerry.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAB2mHGTVpV8qPN2U92P7i0rkLwuzYKqs6uVoQu-CVW2BQtlcTXWAX5WZmVE-xk13VcQjcfKq4hGJY3nlgl1FWGCj6n45sdOilot-_Az86a57_xk3l3B2ogK1S3Q91Ys55dS1R3Wt4km8/s320/071701a.gif" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569941719460913250" /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>After assessing the situation he would give us hand signals.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They were as clip and precise as anything special recon would use… but he always forgot to tell us what in the heck they meant.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Mostly it was guess work.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You would have to watch the hand motions crawl across the ground and watch his face to see if you were doing things right.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Dad would never yell when you did something wrong, but he would grimace like man who had just smashed his finger with a hammer.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I would crawl across the ground with all the grace of floundering fish and make my way, oh so gingerly through whatever sharp and pointy brush he had sent me through.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Lex would army crawl through the tall grass her pole flipping back and forth like a banner waving.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We would cast into the home of the unsuspecting fish and… well most of the time get nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>If anyone caught something it was likely to be dad.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He would look at his sliver prize and toss it back into the stream saying it was too small.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This did not mean that Lex and I got nothing for all of our effort.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I was the supreme master of rock catching and Lex could snag a tree at thirty paces.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>After Lex moved away and couldn’t get home enough to go fishing, dad found another fishing addict.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Andrew seemed more than willing to go fishing with dad, though by this time dad had a sea worthy boat and I’m not sure he every had to play guerrilla warfare with the fish.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>My fist experience with this new team of fishermen was at Starvation Reservoir.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We were on dad’s 30’s model boat -that always reminded me a bit of an owl- her name was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">The Lady of the Lake</i> an name inspired by a picture I had drawn in high school.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I was a hot day on the water and I spent most of my time sitting on the bow of the boat eating potato chips and wishing I could jump into the water (I had always been more of swimmer than a fisher), but knew it would make the disgruntled fishers even more disgruntled… if that were indeed possible.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Dad never had to take breaks when fishing.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Food was an afterthought and as long as he had a small thermos of tea he could go all day.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Hunger and dehydration meant nothing to him.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There were times when Lex and I compared our father’s ability to go without water to a desert loving camel.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Dad had just got a new fish-finder and was testing it out.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The problem was that the fish-finder seemed to have been seeing things.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The water was clear and though the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">damn</i> thing said that there were fish right below our feet, there was nothing but water.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Dad and Andrew tried for hours and finally we took up a position over a submerged island.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Here we could see behemoths swimming below, but try as they might the fish were no more temped by their lures than they would have been by a passing shark.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>After about 30 minutes Andrew threw down his pole screaming at the fish as he jumped up and down, fists clenched in rage.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>For those of you who don’t know Andrew, picture Frodo Baggins dressed in camouflage screaming at the fish (this image should give you the basic idea).</p> <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbfZWx1KMebquAW6X9X-zGArxfJpNkKB75i_kgFvChhlDKRt_Woap8jmQpYnV6zdmWdGKUuAT6aw2mPzPC931E0qhtqvRq4WQG2NrTIHjx1iOh7cfwvkx0Iehrn09_PXCGr_mHAD4r1R8/s320/url.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569941235703039730" /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">Dad started laughing so hard his face turned red, but it was the quiet laughter that dad always had so I don’t thing Andrew heard it over his ranting.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Being a master of deception (when it favored him) dad was grim and straight faced by the time Andrew turned around.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Dad managed to keep his composer until it was just dad and I in Old Red (or better known as the Dinosaur) at which point dad was laughing so hard he could barely drive.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Being the great fishermen they are dad and Andrew did not let being beaten by a bunch of fish go.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Year after year they stormed the lake wishing to take revenge on this slight, though to this day I do not believe the fish have ever had a better show.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><br /></span></p>Scott's familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12975429749506892758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7442317527945629820.post-82905806019580035482011-02-03T00:20:00.000-08:002011-02-03T00:21:56.847-08:00Wedding video and extras,This is another video Kerron found for us. I think that sometime we might be able to get Haylee to add some music and stuff.<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/CuXf7EpSa3E?hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/CuXf7EpSa3E?hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Scott's familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12975429749506892758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7442317527945629820.post-44782023211196452192011-02-02T20:57:00.000-08:002011-02-02T21:01:30.886-08:00video from a family activity<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxPrOUFT8LsrCrCux_Jq52Aq9GVyU-hsOIoLTuuaUhaAPB7EymUZF91h5N91VisiYjO9GNS9vqMesHIJU4tZw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />This is a video my cousin Kerron emailed. <br />We had a family gathering to put on a play that one of my cousins wrote. It's a super short video of mom and dad. <br />I can't believe how young they look.Scott's familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12975429749506892758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7442317527945629820.post-46039529617528848352011-01-30T00:24:00.000-08:002011-01-30T00:46:05.587-08:00Scott's Hugs<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhear2S0LSA6wmtKe26y8WwO80tay0QLoBJqCZnLjL2PBrKUNRVau6ky7SyjLV9RpvIG4FGQMsAv4leoN6MEVxiAk-6IHMJ4hVA6490k10-kFifNbNtptk9DUkQ47izZqpje5dbcdnsJVA/s1600/1285005638-bear_hug.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 302px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhear2S0LSA6wmtKe26y8WwO80tay0QLoBJqCZnLjL2PBrKUNRVau6ky7SyjLV9RpvIG4FGQMsAv4leoN6MEVxiAk-6IHMJ4hVA6490k10-kFifNbNtptk9DUkQ47izZqpje5dbcdnsJVA/s320/1285005638-bear_hug.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567895835251983810" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUn2nVO0IBV_xcmz3T4eZX_fmnpBlY97qmy5YTonK1TVXPxgs3Gqqnd_W38mQEi17hNHl2DUelmwkD7RdbYwnsnqQPLwfjdlxAISJANdVhhPlHWLWFw6r5wnvpOxSCrmIIGx0EZyB4Q60/s1600/b7d06b0c5d91f599f35d3604962fd500.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 230px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUn2nVO0IBV_xcmz3T4eZX_fmnpBlY97qmy5YTonK1TVXPxgs3Gqqnd_W38mQEi17hNHl2DUelmwkD7RdbYwnsnqQPLwfjdlxAISJANdVhhPlHWLWFw6r5wnvpOxSCrmIIGx0EZyB4Q60/s320/b7d06b0c5d91f599f35d3604962fd500.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567895830820641618" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtpDEV0vulur0j6TmwIy3xXSJrp5c0LZuGoK6t7qc5HB8iEHYqNKK4l0Zd8lAnjRoRJt17ac3kJITPzFKNmZ-je61hXu2NzG8M5um93_D-ez2GhmtRkKHXvxfx3vVMsS455LzqlatiM_8/s1600/zebra_hug.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 216px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtpDEV0vulur0j6TmwIy3xXSJrp5c0LZuGoK6t7qc5HB8iEHYqNKK4l0Zd8lAnjRoRJt17ac3kJITPzFKNmZ-je61hXu2NzG8M5um93_D-ez2GhmtRkKHXvxfx3vVMsS455LzqlatiM_8/s320/zebra_hug.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567895826526084450" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">This is Lexie, I'm writing this next post about a memory I have of my father. </span><br /><br />I remember one day dad picked me up and gave me a great big bone crushing hug. I said somethings like " What was that?" <br /><br />" A Bear Hug, of course." Was his reply.<br /><br /><br /> Most the hugs he gave when I was little were ""Bear hugs." I would run up to dad at random times and say "Gimme a bear hug!"<br /><br />I love wild animals we would watch nature shows together, on PBS and I'd be fascinated asking all sorts of questions for days about animals. <br /><br />This changed the "Bear hug." I would run up to him and ask for a "Lion hug", or Zebra hug", A " Tiger Hug".... <br /><br />You name the animal we had a hug for it.<br /><br /><br />They were all really bear hugs but I didn't know that until I got much older. <br /><br />My dad loved us so much he always play a long if he knew it would make us happy. <br /><br />I was really sick today and I've been feeling sorry for myself wish he could come and give me a "Zebra hug."Scott's familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12975429749506892758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7442317527945629820.post-6141228059458798982010-09-24T23:38:00.000-07:002011-01-30T01:11:15.118-08:00Volvo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgBS4fyoMIz19UtJgcy5LoYLlfa5WI68dNEv7465RwRWbA_enZfo09QqWZyGhmNI7uWTa002RYM5QFDBpb_nZNy-vpAZ02LPhSkElFAVKlcMJvVsiMTrtpqEhs_OHRdRph753pTqcWeHU/s1600/volvo.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 318px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgBS4fyoMIz19UtJgcy5LoYLlfa5WI68dNEv7465RwRWbA_enZfo09QqWZyGhmNI7uWTa002RYM5QFDBpb_nZNy-vpAZ02LPhSkElFAVKlcMJvVsiMTrtpqEhs_OHRdRph753pTqcWeHU/s320/volvo.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567903909755550930" /></a><br /><br /><br />I made this blog so my family and I could write down some of our favorite memories of our dad. I haven't done much posting on it. I've had a hard time sleeping tonight because I ate too much artichoke dip today, I thought I'd write down some thought I've had in my head. <br />I teach a Sunday school class and I was going to integrate this story in my lesson this weeks. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqQzJeAaMkn3UvchZVk2uGKon-Ju7BziPzrmO-yUJN_HQkpfwKlab9-5c-KSFICFSA1XCdvcQC4ns4DRSDKxc4iT4wiiYg5T-5nWsdTTp_tI_rY0niaFKovTydvaSOT94VY-HpyWKn8zk/s1600/volvo_logo2006_lg.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 302px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqQzJeAaMkn3UvchZVk2uGKon-Ju7BziPzrmO-yUJN_HQkpfwKlab9-5c-KSFICFSA1XCdvcQC4ns4DRSDKxc4iT4wiiYg5T-5nWsdTTp_tI_rY0niaFKovTydvaSOT94VY-HpyWKn8zk/s320/volvo_logo2006_lg.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567901767732823618" /></a><br /><br />When I turned 16 and was getting ready to drive my dad bought a Volvo from my uncle Troy. At the time I was a spoiled teenager and just the thought of driving a Volvo was repulsive to me. I grew up in "Redneckville, Utah", a farming community where everyone drives pick-up trucks and SUVs the boxy 1980's Volvo was not what I had in mind for my first car. <br /><br />The car was grey with a pealing clear coat pain on over the top of it. I had done some body work on cars in the past with my dad and I'd had a lot of fun with it. I decided to paint the ugly car my favorite car midnight blue. <br /><br />Dad agreed to help me paint if if I did all the body work. I spent a lot of time everyday after school sanding and filling in dents with body filler. It was a lot of work. I put in a lot of blood sweat and tears. <br /><br />I was so excited when I finished. One Friday Afternoon dad took me to NAPA. I flipped through books of paint chips searching for the color I had dreamed of my car being. I vasalated between colors. I think the store was getting ready to close and I finally picked on. The next morning I spent several hours helping dad mask the car, covering all the parts to keep from being painted. I spent detailed work making sure all the lines along the windows were straight and smooth. <br /><br />We only had one mask and, of course, only one paint gun. I went in the house and dad painted the car I was so excited. <br /><br />I came out to look at my newly painted car... and it was HORRIBLE. The beautiful midnight blue color I had envisioned looked like a robin egg blue with a touch of psychedelic sheen. It was not the car I had envisioned. <br /><br />I tried not to let my disappointment show on my face after all my dad had just spent a lot of time and money trying to make me happy. <br /><br />I said something like 'wow... dad..... thanks, um, I really appriciate it.'<br /><br /> He asked 'do you like it?'<br /><br /><br /><br />I couldn't speak because I knew I'd break into tears so I just nodded.<br /><br /> I went in the house huddled up in my room and burst into tears. All my hard work for nothing. The new car color was even worse than the cracked and chipped clear coat. <br /><br />There was a knock on my door and my dad came in. I tried to stop crying I really did. But he could obviously tell I wasn't happy. <br /><br />'It will darken up, when it dries,' he tried to reassure me. <br /><br />'Yeah, I know how dark do you think it will be?' I asked. <br /><br />'I'm not sure what color where you hoping for?' I pulled out my favorite midnight blue T-shirt to show him. I could tell from the look on his face that it was not the color my car would be. I tried not to cry again. <br /><br />We waited a few hours the car was still hideous. And the worst part was that it was all my fault it was hideous I'd picked the color. <br /><br />Stupid NAPA autoparts and their dump deceptive paint chips! I went back in my room to sulk. <br /><br />Dad came in and told me to go get in the truck. I got in the truck hopeful that he had thought of a chemical we could put on it to darken it up. We drove back to NAPA autoparts and he let me pick out a whole new color. We got home and he repainted the whole car over again. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlklReYXikhqqp2pVIQ0yRmdMKEhyphenhyphenZ7Wr86ZH8UExm1JwVXySZPeJre5UbADxsa9NsdGn56EEgO_6eVoYdCQuVXp67npKJtzDPoN6a_mdDZ6dJ6YzoD-W2163RHYbyTWf_SsOuKx8pbxQ/s1600/SHA4216.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlklReYXikhqqp2pVIQ0yRmdMKEhyphenhyphenZ7Wr86ZH8UExm1JwVXySZPeJre5UbADxsa9NsdGn56EEgO_6eVoYdCQuVXp67npKJtzDPoN6a_mdDZ6dJ6YzoD-W2163RHYbyTWf_SsOuKx8pbxQ/s320/SHA4216.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567902837385676322" /></a><br /><br /><br />Since it had 2 coats of paint the outer layer had the texture of an orange peal in some places but it was wonderful it was the color I'd really wanted. <br /><br />Later on I considered how much the whole adventure cost I probably spent about $100 in supplies doing the body work. <br />The first coat of pain was ~ $200 and then the second coat was ~ $200 dollars more. I'm not sure how much the primer and supplies for the paint gun were but lets say it was ~ $100. <br />All said and done my dad spent nearly $600 dollars to make his little girl happy. <br />I think we bought the care for $500 dollars from my uncle, so we put more into it than it was probably worth. <br /><br />The moral of the story is that my dad cared a lot about making us happy teaching us skills (like doing body work on cars) and just making sure we knew he loved us. <br /><br />I cringe when I think about how much time and money he spent on fixing my mistake that day. But overall it really made me feel that he loved me.Scott's familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12975429749506892758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7442317527945629820.post-18888151497152826952010-09-05T22:20:00.001-07:002010-09-05T22:20:44.904-07:00Scotts funeral talkLarry Scott Toland was born on August 30,1954 in Afton, Wyoming, He was the oldest son of Margery Balls and Larry Toland; later he was joined by five siblings, a younger brother Kim, a sister Lori, infant twins Gene and Jan, and a half sister, Melissa.<br /><br /> <br /><br />When Scott was around a year and a half, Mom and Dad moved to the Bar B C Ranch in Jackson, Wyomig to feed cattle through the winter. While at the Bar BC, Scott learned to mimic the coyotes that would howl each evening around the ranch. Scott's canine antics quickly became a family favorite. Grandpa Balls would even take him to the local Pool Hall in Afton, Wyoming where he would howl for all of Grandpa’s pool playing buddies.<br /><br /> <br /><br />Scott continued to enjoy nature and the outdoors throughout his life. I truly think Scott could have given Bear Gillis the Survivor Man a run for his money. He knew every edible plant and had eaten most of them. He tried to enlighten us on natures bounty. I only cooperated enough to taste wild onions, I shutter thinking about the terrible taste that lasted about a week. There's a big difference in what can be eaten and what should be eaten.<br /><br /> <br /><br />While Scott didn't have much luck converting me to the survivor lifestyle, he always had a lot of friends around while growing up and motivated them with new high adventures of survival, the thrill of inventing a rocket to the moon or traveling with Jules Vern to the center of the earth. Scott was a true friend, he befriended the friendless and helped those in need. In 1966 at the age of eleven, Scott received recognition as an “Outstanding Patrol Boy.” Scott recieved this award from the Ogden Police Department as recognition for an act of bravery. Scott pulled a fifth grader from the path of an on coming car possibly saving the boys life. He was an extraordinary boy.<br /><br /> <br /><br />Scott was not a typical teenager either. If he had any extra money he wouldn’t by a candy bar, I can’t remember him ever buying one, instead he would go to the grocery store and buy fruit and vegetables. Imagine seeing a tall lanky teenager munching on a head of lettuce. That was Scott. When he was in <br />High School while other boys were interested in sports, Scott excelled in science and the arts. He found his creative side in High School Ceramics. He continued throwing pots and experimenting with glazes the rest of his life, I’m so thankful I have a few. They are unique and touched by the hands of a true artist. He worked dilligently on his pottery, and extended that same ethic to his work.<br /><br /> <br /><br />Scott knew how to work and he worked hard, when he was in high school during the summer months he sprayed pine beetle infested trees and moved pipe in Ashton, Idaho while staying with his grandma and grandpa Toland. After Scott graduated from Ogden High School in 1972 we moved to Star Valley Wyoming. While in Star Valley , he worked for an implement company as a repariman. All of Scott's employers had positive things to say about him.<br /><br /> <br /><br />While Scott continued working in Afton I went to school in Provo, Utah; Kathy Mitchell was my roommate. We shared a large old home right off campus. I, went back to Star Valley the next weekend and announced to the family that I had found a wife for Scott. All that fall, whenever Kathy and I got together, I would laugh and say things like “You’d be just right for my brother” or “I’d really like you to meet my brother.” Kathy at the time was seriously dating a young man whose home was in Nebraska. At Christmas break, Kathy flew to Nebraska to meet his family. After spending several days on a very large farm in Nebraska, in the middle of winter, Kathy decided this was not a living circumstance she could abide. Upon returning to school after Christmas, Kathy approached me and said “Lori, let’s go to Wyoming.” <br /><br /> <br /><br />The next weekend, Lori brought Kathy to Wyoming. That evening, as I was preparing to attend a cousin’s wedding reception, Scott asked if the ladies would like to “go to the show.” Lori replied “I’m going to the reception, but I’m sure Kathy would like to go.” From that time on during the winter months, Kathy and my future husband and I, made several trips to Wyoming, and Scott would venture to Provo or Salt Lake as often as he could. By this time, Kathy’s parents and family were dying of curiosity as to what kept pulling her to Wyoming. They assumed it was a man, and all of their fingers and toes were crossed. After all, by Uintah Basin standards in the 70’s, she was soon to be 22 and destined to be an old maid the rest of her life. Gathering her courage, Kathy made the call to her family to announce she was bringing a young man from Wyoming home. When asked what he looked like, Kathy responded “Well, you remember Jeremiah Johnson and Grizzly Adams? You just pictured him.” When Grover found out Scott was a vocational/agricultural mechanic, he was enthusiastically invited back next weekend to overhaul the Massey, (which means splitting the tractor in-two) much to Kathy’s embarrassment. Everyone approved of Scott because of his mechanical talents, especially her brothers. <br /><br /> <br /><br />A few months later, in the month of March, sitting in the Mitchell kitchen, Scott mentioned that his mom had asked when they were getting married. Kathy asked “Well what did you say?”, and his response was “I don’t know.” Several hours later, Kathy said “Well Scott, when are we getting married?” To which Scott replied, after a pause “Uh, I don’t know. When do you want to?” <br /><br /> <br /><br />The couple was married that spring in Altamont on May 28, 1977. Promptly after the wedding, Scott and Kathy moved into a tent near Lava Hot Springs, ID while Scott pursued a career as a logger, much to Kathy’s chagrin. After three weeks of storms and the tent being blown over, and the toilet paper being wet and useless, they upgraded to a camper. After several bounced paychecks from his employer, the couple moved back to WY and lived in the camper in his mom’s pasture. After a brief stint at a parts store, Scott went to work for another logging company. Scott and Kathy moved to the mountains near Big Piney, WY until November. After the first big snow pushed the loggers off the mountain, he went to work for his previous employer Don Wood in Star Valley. Scott had promised Helen, Kathy’s mother, that he would let her finish her education. For Spring Quarter, Scott and Kathy moved to Ogden, where Kathy went to school at Weber State and worked in the preschool on campus, and Scott commuted to Salt Lake City working for Arnold Equipment Co. The next spring, Scott attended night school with Kathy, taking Geology and of course, several pottery classes where he promptly took over helping students. Kathy was very frustrated because he never read his geology book but could answer all the questions at the end of each chapter. His geology teacher was very impressed and said he would make an excellent geologist. That summer, Scott again tried to pursue making enough money as a logger to continue school. He worked with Kim, his brother, and his friend in the forest. Again, the paychecks did not come on a regular basis – there was barely enough for groceries. A good friend of Kathy’s, Sid Farnsworth, passed away that summer and Kathy came down to his funeral. While in Altamont, Kathy was offered a job at the elementary as an aide. When Kathy didn’t return, Scott followed. Scott soon became employed at Roosevelt Equipment. They purchased a trailer next to Max Allred’s in Altamont. Alexaus was born that spring on March 13, 1980. Kathy went back to school at Utah State two weeks after Alexaus’ birth. She did her student teaching in the fall, and was hired to teach first grade at Altamont in January. <br /><br /> <br /><br />Scott and Grover purchased a pontoon boat and enjoyed fishing and boating on Sand Wash. In the winter of 1980, Scott had carpal tunnel surgery on both hands at the same time. In the old days, before laser surgery, he had casts on both hands. Being Scott, he thought he could watch Alexaus and recuperate at the same time. But after one day, realizing this was not happening, Alexaus was sent back to the babysitter. Although he was a very good father, changing diapers without the use of one’s hands is difficult to say the least. In the early 80’s, while the rest of the country was in a recession, the oil fields in the Uintah Basin were booming. Scott went to work as Dalbo’s Water Service. As always, he put in long hours and was often gone, sometimes working for 2 days straight. <br /><br /> <br /><br />Scott always loved animals. His mother also loves animals. At this time, Marge had 2 toy Dachshunds. A friend at work had a puppy. Scott really wanted that puppy. Kathy, being raised on a farm, did not have animals in the house. She said “No, absolutely not.” After the husband and wife silent treatment, Scott finally said “I know you don’t want me to have that dog, but I really want it dammit, and I just had to say that.” The puppy was named Cupcake. Alexaus and Scott loved Cupcake. Kathy was somewhat less than thrilled. Cupcake became Scott’s truck dog and copilot during his long hours. One evening, in one of the Uintah Basin’s hard winters, Scott was headed to an oil well in Ballard. Going up a very steep hill covered with ice, he lost traction, slid backwards off the hill and into someone’s back yard. The truck rolled 3 times. The first time Scott radioed for help he got no response. With his next call, everyone knew something was wrong. Several truckers, including Randy Oman, raced to Scott’s location. After extricating himself and Cupcake, wearing greasy insulated coveralls and with blood streaming his face, carrying his toy Dachshund, he knocked on the back glass door of the homeowner. The parents were away, and the little girl, upon seeing the bloody monster with a puppy, ran screaming. Her brother, being a little older, let Scott in and gave him a towel to clean himself. One of the other truckers arrived in his car and took Scott to the hospital. When Kathy arrived at the hospital, the man said it was the most pathetic sight he had ever seen – a bloody brown abominable snowman without his front teeth holding a tiny puppy, waiting for rescue. <br /><br /> <br /><br />Later that year, Scott went to work for Ned Mitchell and was contracted to the gas plant in Altamont that was at that time Utex. Later that year, Utex hired him as a permanent employee. He worked as an operator at the gas plant for one year, and was later transferred to the field stations as maintenance. He made many friends and really enjoyed his work. Scott and Kathy purchased their home at Sand Wash in the fall of ’86. Two weeks after purchasing the house, and while expecting their second child, Utex went bankrupt and was bought by Coastal. Kathy was very worried at this time about their future. But Scott, being the person he was, was never concerned, and Coastal kept him on. Haylee was born April 3, 1986. <br /><br /> <br /><br />Scott was the first person, at the age of 16, to be certified as a SCUBA in the state of Utah. Prior to his marriage, when he lived in Ogden/Starr Valley, he assisted in many Search and Rescue operations, including in rescue diving. He was an excellent swimmer and loved being in the water. In the early 90’s, Scott discovered a dive shop in Vernal. SCUBA diving became Scott’s version of weekend golf. In order to save her marriage, despite her terror of water and lack of swimming ability, Kathy, under duress, completed SCUBA training and was certified. While Kathy was certifying, Scott earned his certification as a Dive Instructor. Because of Scott, many family members, including his daughters, are certified divers. He taught dive classes in Vernal and Roosevelt for many years. The family has enjoyed many dive trips together. They have spent Christmases on dive boats in the Bahamas and the island of Rowatan off Honduras. <br /><br /> <br /><br />Scott had another passion of helping others and studying medicine. He completed training as an EMT and volunteered with the Altamont ambulance crew. Many people received their training from Scott. He went on every run he could even in the middle of the night. He worked to save many lives and ease the pain of many people. He made many close friends and enjoyed being a part of such a caring group.<br /><br /> <br /><br />Scott had always loved teaching and when he had the opportunity to teach Petroleum Technologies at UBATC he took it. He was instrumental in developing the program that is still taught today. Even after leaving the tech he was invited every quarter to teach gas metering.<br /><br /> <br /><br />Subsequent to the Tech he went to Barry Petroleum where he has been for the past four years. He was gas plant supervisor as well as being a mentor to many Barry employees. Scott loved working for Barry. He enjoyed the people, the company and the environment. <br /><br /> <br /><br />On Friday, after working all day, Scott was looking forward to going to Alaska to see his brother. Early the next morning he was having difficulties breathing. He collapsed shortly thereafter and didn’t respond to resuscitative efforts. Scott passed away on June 19, 2010 at age 55.<br /><br /> <br /><br />Scott’s greatest quality was that he judged no one and accepted all. He was always ready to cook a meal for anyone who was there. We all look forward to seeing him once again and seeing what he has created on the other side.Scott's familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12975429749506892758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7442317527945629820.post-39191758741636893302010-07-10T18:40:00.000-07:002010-07-10T18:43:53.897-07:00Condolences posted on the mortuary site.Ron & Jaynee Lefler<br />Kathy, Alexaus & Haylee we were very saddened to hear<br />about Scott. He was a fountain of knowledge and a very kind<br />person that never had anything bad to say about anyone. If<br />we can do anything to help please let us know. You are in our<br />prayers.<br /><br />Carol Snapp<br />So sorry to hear of Scott's passing. He is a special, good man.<br />Always remember how much he loved you, Kathy, and his<br />beautiful girls. You were all his princesses! Know that we<br />love you and our prayers are with you.<br /><br />Ricky and Christy Thacker<br />Kathy, Scott will be remembered as a quiet, gentle, giant of a<br />man. We are sorry to hear of your loss. You and the girls are<br />in our thoughts and prayers.Love, Ricky and Christy Thacker<br /><br />Dean Carter<br />My sympathy go out to Scotts family. I knew Scott when he<br />was an EMT. I worked with him at berry petroleum, I had<br />the most respect for Scott, he was a good man and co worker<br />he will be missed my heart goes out to his family, I am truley<br />sorry for your loss. this is a shocker<br /><br />Joe A. Welborn Jr.<br />To the family and friends of Scott Toland, I am so very sad to<br />hear of Scott’s passing on to our Eternal Father. Even though,<br />it is a part of life and of living in this mortal place, no words<br />can ever really take away the sorrow. Although we can take<br />comfort in the fact that every spirit exists in another place. I<br />believe our Heavenly Father created the world for mortal<br />inhabitants and the heavens for our immortal existence,<br />therefore after death we will meet again. I also believe God<br />places good men on this earth as examples to others. Scott<br />was one of those good men. I got to know Scott while he was<br />working in a gas plant, more than twenty years ago. I recently<br />spoke to Scott just last Friday. Scott’s knowledge was<br />extraordinary in what he did for a living, his knowledge<br />seemed to be limitless. On a personal level, Scott was soft<br />spoken and kind. We will all miss Scott, but I will more<br />especially miss Scott coming by the office, getting to see him,<br />the conversation, the ideas we shared. Scott truly touched<br />my life as I am sure he touched so many others. Goodbye for<br />now Scott my friend, until that certain time we will meet<br />again. May I offer my most sincere condolences and best<br />regards to the family and friends of Scott Toland. May God<br />continue to bless us all. Sincerely yours,Joe A. Welborn Jr.<br /><br />Marta-Co Supply Inc.<br />Bruce and Ramona Brown<br />Our thoughts and prayers are with Scott's family at this time.<br />May you be comforted in your memories of the good times<br />and the knowledge that you will be able to see him again when<br />the time is right.We appreciate Scott's service to our<br />community and his friendship.<br /><br />Beverly Evans<br />Kathy and Girls,My thoughts and prayers are with you at<br />this time of loss. You shared a very special man with the<br />community as he did many acts ofkindness few knew about.<br />He was a quite man who had a strong influence on many<br />through his examples and the respect he had for others. He<br />adored each of you and your were the center of his universe.<br />May you know of my love and concern. God be with you in<br />this time of need.<br /><br />laird and carolyn smith<br />kathy,haylee and alexaus,we were so shocked to hear the<br />horrible news of such a wonderful person and friend.scott<br />was such a wonderful teacher of many knowledgable careers. I<br />have never in my lifetime knew anyone that could tell you<br />what you needed to know, he always had the answer. scott<br />was very thougthful of his wife and daughters he spoke<br />highly of them he actually bragged a lot about them.I enjoyed<br />being a partner as an emt with altamont ambulance he was<br />very dedicated to his position and was always the first one on<br />sceen to care for the patients. scott always had a huge smile<br />and at times loved to joke with the emt crew. scott will be<br />missed by the entire basin, the people that got to know scott<br />will always have a place in their hearts for him.kathy, alexaus,<br />and haylee we love you all and we will carry a heavy heart for<br />you. Hold your heads high for your husband and father will<br />still be teaching someone all he knew and I promise you will<br />all meet again.love to all who knew SCOTT TO<br />LANDlaird<br /><br />and carolyn smith<br />Brian and Heather Gibson<br />We were just heartbroken to hear of Scott's passing. Please<br />know that our thoughts and prayers are with you all. If there<br />is anything that we can do, do not hesitate to ask. We always<br />thought the world of Scott. He was a kind and gentle man full<br />of knowledge and talent. He will be terrribly missed.<br />Von Johnson<br /><br />To Scott's Family, I am deeply sorry for your lose, Scott was<br />truly an example to all of us, I am so glad I had the chance to<br />work with him in EMS and teaching. He was so knowledgable<br />and skilled. I am so greatful for the sacrifices that you gave to<br />let him help his community as much as he did, Thank you. I<br />will miss him too. Love Von<br /><br />Janet Lee<br />No words can express the feelings at this time. Just want you<br />to know how sorry I am for the seperation from this life and<br />his loved ones. May Gods spirit and the love of friends help<br />ease the pain. Love ya, Janet<br /><br />Collette Thacker Brown<br />To Kathy and Girls,I was so saddened to hear of Scott's<br />passing. You are in my thoughts and prayers and I pray that<br />all will be well for you in the days to come. May your<br />sorrow be replaced with good memories in time.Love,Collette<br />Thacker Brown<br /><br />Ryan & Julianne Harrison<br />We're sorry to hear of Scotts passing. Working with Scott<br />always gave a person an opportunity to learn. He was a great<br />teacher and I appreciate the insight he gave me on many<br />subjects. I appreciated his willingness to help me from time<br />to time. He was a great friend and I will miss him. Again,<br />sorry for your loss, please let us know if we can help you<br />with anything.<br /><br />Marjorie Mitchell Lamb<br />Dear Kathy,Sorry to hear of you husbands death. My heart<br />and prayers are with you.Would love to make it out to his<br />funeral, but due to health, I have a hard time in<br />traveling.Saundra just told me the news yesterday, and I want<br />you to know I am thinking of you,Marjorie<br />Cody and Autumn Winn<br />We are so sorry for your loss our thoughts and prayers are<br />with you.<br /><br />Kathy Toland<br />Kathy and girls,I am so very sorry about our loss of Scott.<br />He was a very special person in countless ways and will be<br />missed greatly. I have only fond memories of him and will<br />treasure them. Please know that you are in my thoughts and<br />prayers in this your time of sorrow. Kathy<br />Elizabeth Sampson<br />I am so very sorry for your loss.<br /><br />Tish Duncan<br />I want to just say that Scott was such an amazing man. I<br />worked with him at Berry for a short time, and in that time,<br />he showed me nothing but kindness! I will forever treasure<br />the pottery he made for me, and the love and light he has<br />shown me! Thank you for allowing me to know you Scott, it<br />was truly a blessing!!<br /><br />Destin Thayne<br />Toland family, please know you are in my thoughts and<br />prayers during this very hard time. Even knowing what we<br />know the pain is not escapable, your being prayed for and<br />thought about. I know you will be reunited with your<br />husband/father again. -DestinScott's familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12975429749506892758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7442317527945629820.post-29850884286844009082010-07-10T18:36:00.001-07:002010-07-10T18:36:58.221-07:00What this blog is forThis is a blog for Scott's family to record some of their memories to share with each other and so we don't forget. Feel free to post your good memories.Scott's familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12975429749506892758noreply@blogger.com0