Nicolas N. Scott Eulogy

Eric Scott delivered this Eulogy at Nick Scott's memorial service. He graciously gave me permission to post it to my blog. Whether you knew Nick or not, Eric's eulogy is powerful and really made me think about the way I view people. Please take a few moments and read his words.

Eulogy for Nicolas N. Scott
by Eric Scott
Ph.D student in Computer Science
George Mason University

The last few years of Nick’s life were hard. Certainly harder than anything I've been through. There is no way to sugar coat it: as a homeless man in Oklahoma City, Nick suffered a lot. At Nick’s age, he should have been looking forward to an open-ended vista of possibilities. The American Dream, with all its hopes and promises, should have been tantalizing him with its optimism. And on his good days, Nick did dream of future success the way a young person should. He dreamt of getting his G.E.D. and going back to school, of making enough money to pay back everyone he had ever hurt, and of becoming a lawyer and helping people in situations like his.

But most days, Nicolas was trapped in a sense of futility. Robert Frost described an old man in a similar position in one of his poems, “The Death of the Hired Man.” Young as he was, it could easily have been Nick, Nick who lived as an illegal immigrant in his own country, barely eking out a living as a hired hand. Frost writes of him:

So concerned for other folk,
And nothing to look backward to with pride,
And nothing to look forward to with hope,
So now and never any different.

If there’s one thing that I've consistently heard from Nick’s friends and acquaintances over the years, it was that he was truly concerned for other folk. Nick did many things that he regretted, some things as innocent as stealing food to survive, and some things less easy to forgive. I don’t know what it’s like to be locked in the cycle of hopelessness that so many people living in poverty experience from day to day. I’m told that money loses value when there is never enough of it. There is a certain logic to irresponsibility in situations where human flourishing is rare and precious.

But people never lost value for Nick. Nick was a passionate believer in compassion and empathy. Nick stood in judgment over himself for his failures to do justice to people and their experiences. And he stood in judgment over me, over society and criminal justice, and over the church. The one person I never heard him criticize was his late mother, Tilly Scott, who for Nick embodied a complete and unconditional regard for the well-being of her son.

Nick went back and forth on his religious beliefs. Life on the street doesn't afford much luxury for debating academic arguments about God and theology. He didn't know what he believed, but he read his Bible regularly, and Nick seemed to genuinely feel that Christ was often more present in the homeless shelters and jail cells of Oklahoma City than in its churches. He tried many times to explain to me his belief that there is good in everyone, a source of dignity even in what most of us would consider broken and violent souls. Nick knew convicted murderers that he believed were among the most profound representatives of Christ-like compassion that you could find.

A few weeks ago the minister at my church in Virginia delivered a message on forgiveness, and challenged everyone in our congregation to forgive one person that week, and to ask forgiveness from someone. Things were tense between Nick and I at the time. He’d told some fibs while trying to get my family to help him with rent money, and I was feeling pretty stern. It was a busy week for me, and I procrastinated on my homework, but finally I told Nick that I forgave him, and that supporting him was what was most important to us. He died that evening.

Because of my minister’s challenge, I have the comfort of knowing that Nick’s last words to me were of gratitude. That week, his family had chosen to love him unconditionally. He told me that it meant a lot, and that he would try to do better toward us.

But what I failed to do, and what I wish I could do now, is ask Nick’s forgiveness. Not just for the times I wasn't there to help him. I want Nick’s forgiveness for being slow to learn how to see the dignity in every human being. It is always far easier to judge the homeless than to help them, even with family. On Nick’s behalf, I challenge all of us, myself included, to see the Christ in those in need. We have to go beyond feeling sorry for others, and build relationships that allow us to truly understand them. Nick is no longer here for us to learn to love, but his belief in love is something we can carry on now that he is gone.

Nick Scott Memorial

Today my wife and I along with my parents drove to Oklahoma City to attend Nick Scott's memorial service.  I was asked to read the obituary. I was honored to be able to do so.

Nicolas Neal Scott (born Nicolas Aweyo), aged 23, of Oklahoma City died October 1, 2014 in Oklahoma City of homicide.

He was born June 23, 1991 near Homa Bay, Kenya. His mother died in childbirth and he was adopted by Neal and Tillie Scott two weeks later. His early childhood was spent in Morogoro, Tanzania where his parents were missionaries. Then the family returned to the United States, residing in Texas, Tennessee, and New Mexico before settling near Hodgen, Oklahoma'

Nick was home schooled for his first 6 years and then completed seventh and eighth grades in Hodgen, Oklahoma. He attended high school in Heavener, Oklahoma and was active in football and basketball. After high school he worked at a series of odd jobs but ran into difficulties when his citizenship papers were misplaced. Repeated attempts at replacing them were lost in red tape and his frequent moves.

He spent most of his adult life in Oklahoma but was homeless for the last several years. Basketball remained a passion throughout his life. Nick was a quiet young man until you got to know him well. Then a sense of humor and deep compassion came through that endeared him to his friends.

I first met Nick as an eight year old boy named Nicky. He was a quiet boy who couldn't sit still. Over the next few years I got to know him in my Sabbath School Class and in Pathfinders. By the time he was twelve he was almost as tall as I was.

Nick loved Pathfinder camping trips. We always knew to take extra food when Nick was along, especially an extra container of sour cream.

Nick was scheduled to go to the Faith on Fire Camporee in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. Over 33,000 Pathfinders from over 100 countries attended. Shortly before the Camporee he injured his foot and was afraid that he would miss out, but he was able to go with a special boot. He had a great time at the Camporee and never complained even though we had to do lots of walking, (our campsite was almost a mile from the main events hangars), on his sore foot. I'm very glad that he was able to be a part of the Faith on Fire Camporee.

Nick is survived by his father, Neal Scott and wife, Lucy of Harrah, Oklahoma, two brothers, Steve and wife Vivian of Illinois and Tom and wife Jo Ann of Wisconsin, a sister, Marci, of California, and nieces and nephews. His mother, Tillie, preceded him in death in 2011.