7/12/20

When Scott and I met, we were both wanting something more, knowing that something better could happen. We had been through our individual adult hell for several years. Me, a divorced mother of young children with a controlling ex-husband and finishing nursing school where I witnessed some of the worst cruelty of my life- nursing instructors. Scott was deep in his alcoholism, fresh out of a bounce back relationship preceded by a failed and destructive engagement. My friend Emily picked him out on Match and I said, “I don’t know, he looks pretentious”, which of course he was.

Fast forward, falling in love, sobriety, therapy with his beloved Lisette, loving the children, moving in together, renting his first real art studio and then building his art studio in our backyard. I’m learning how to calm down, enjoy life, lower my defenses- I am safe. He is looking back and coming to terms with the abuse he suffered at the hands of his father, Jim Latimore. I say with all my heart- fuck you Jim Latimore. Scott is safe. We grow individually and together- there were several years that I couldn’t believe that we had such a charmed life. Our favorite thing to do was to chit chat. We talked for hours every single day.

Some of Scott’s favorite things: Warren Wilson College, NYC- his birthplace and home on and off for many years, his many serial monogamous girlfriends, Robert Frost, his mother Rosemary, Elizabeth Bishop, Asheville, fir trees, Mars, painting, poetry, the absurd, camping, politics and artifacts of the Cold War. I’ll stop, there is a lot more to tell.

He was born in Manhattan, NY, NY- so nice they named it twice- and was put up for adoption. He was called Sebastian for the first two months of his life until he was adopted by Rosemary, the happiest day of her life. He was renamed Scott Winslow Latimore. Scott after F. Scott Fitzgerald and Winslow after Winslow Homer, a writer and painter. Right there you can see where the train got off the tracks and doomed him with a heart of an artist without the benefit of a benefactor. 

His first eight years were in NYC on 105th street listening to his mom type his father’s dissertation, the smell of the subway grates, eating sweets from Chinatown. Oh, his brother Tim is adopted and they are now a family. 

It’s 1977 and the City of New York goes bankrupt. Jim loses his job as a professor at City College and he does a nationwide job search bringing them to Charlotte, NC. Why Jim? Scott called it moving in with the Taliban. The searing racism and violence of the South is a shock. He is beat up at home and beat up on the streets. A cop pulls a gun on him in his own backyard when he is 15. Life is not all bad, he is close with his brother, lots of fantasy play, stuffed animal fortresses and domiciles. He grows up, makes life long friends, travels with the Dead- can you imagine that happening today? It was a different time. He is the youngest in his friend group to lose his virginity, his lifelong love of women is born. They live above his mother’s bookstore and reads and reads and reads. Mischief is made, music is played.

What next? What happens to our young protagonist? 

He applies to one college- Warren Wilson College. Reading literature, working on the farm, living in the mountains, fantastically wild friends – friends for life, the first love of his life, Gretchen. The beginning of  Phil. Dabbles in painting. Alcoholism and then AA. He is cold stone sober for the next 12 years or so. 

What to do when you are sober? A lot.

Off to NYC for Sarah Lawrence College for a masters in poetry. Interlude about Becky. Scott is 7 years my senior. I got into Sarah Lawrence for undergrad and was desperate to go. My parents wisely talked me out of it because it was just so damned expensive. We would have been there at the same time. Wrote his epic poem, In the Circles in the Grass. Read it if you get a chance, it’s good. 

In no particular order: He moves between NYC and Asheville. Works at Random House twice- Barbara aka Babs is his first “grown-up” friend. Teaches literature and writing at Warren Wilson & UNC Asheville. Works on an organic farm, fixes cars, is a chimney sweep in Vermont. Ian! and Sarah and Sarah. How many Sarahs were there? Also a few Annies as well. He watches and cares for his mom during her dying time. Painting classes at the Art Students League- favorite teacher, “hmmm…It’s the color”. 

What comes next is a mystery to us all. He moves to Pittsboro away from NYC. Drinking is back, love is in the air, and painting continues. He gets the longest temp job in the world at the Chapel Hill Carrboro City Schools (CHCCS)! He works there for over ten years as the web master, integrating technology with teaching. Ray is his boss and good times ensue. He meets Dave, a new friend, a true friend. It is a gift to find friendship in middle age. 

Back to the beginning of this essay, we meet and fall in love. He travels to Oregon and lives with my best friend, Lauren, and now they are friends. We make a home and we are getting better and better. He shows his artwork publicly after two decades working in obscurity. He is hitting his stride. Then cancer. He was not meant to die young, 51. We had so much promise between the two of us. We were getting there. 

The most amazing thing about Scott was his ability to grow and change. He just never stopped. He confronted true demons and slayed them by changing for the better. He moved on. The cancer was the only thing he couldn’t defeat. 

This love does not die with his death. It will just get deeper. 

In loving memory of Scott Winslow Latimore, 1/18/1969 to 7/10/2020

by Becky Straub