I read a biblical message every morning. Yesterday the passage entitled,  The Power of Silence. Just sitting, doing nothing and allowing a “message” or two float into your mind. I had an email exchange yesterday with my nephew Scotty. Someone I see infrequently. But one I remember vividly. Today during my “quiet time” he came to me. I’ve known my nephew for most of his fifty plus years here. Remember him as handsome (even as a child.) Blond. Blue eyed. Lanky. Not overly expressive.
The clearest memory I have of him? Sitting in his grandparents triplex in Ocean City, NJ watching TV. For long periods of time. Always very focused … I think. His grandmother bringing him whatever he wanted to eat while watching what we called the “boob tube.” In quiet ways he always led his sister, and my two daughters … riding bikes, playing stick ball, racing to the surf. He loved his grandfather, Pop. Spent many evenings in bed with him listening to Phillies baseball. Just hangin’ out with Pop. All this youthful activity was hardly defining of what followed. Well maybe a little.

Scotty went on to Amherst College … Columbia School of Journalism … and a wonderful, distinguished career as a journalist. Today he is a Senior Writer for the Washington Post. I could spend the rest of this piece detailing his professional career. But no. Just a few of my thoughts, remembrances of my nephew this morning. I remember a youthful “softness” about him as a kid. Oh, competitive for sure. But I think in his own way. Scotty as humble. The quality I’ve most admired in the accomplished people I’ve known.

He could anger. Maybe infrequently, but intensely. Nancy and I will always marvel that despite an intensely packed schedule, our emails to him? Have always been replied to … almost instantly. Reflective of his priorities maybe? I’m aware of some personal challenges he’s faced. But with the determination he displayed in his professional life, he dealt with these effectively.

Scotty has flattened me a times by reaching out to me for a guiding thought or opinion that might benefit him.

“What do you think, Bob?” I’d reply with something profound … of course! Then always this. “Bob, as always your words mean so much to me.” Mean so much to me. I’ll always remember these words. Words from a Washington Post correspondent who took assignments in Columbia, Israel, throughout the Middle East.

Then there was the time Nancy and I visited Scotty and his family in 2013. He was up the entire first night we were there writing the next day’s front page story for the Post covering the infamous Boston Marathon bombing. He’s covered the devastating CA fires. And just yesterday he wrote a piece on the immense Mojave aquifer that might be a key solution to pending water shortages in CA. All so well written. So thoroughly reported. This is incomplete coverage of all Scotty has accomplished. Just a few things I came up with this morning.

I’ll close with this final thought that raced to mind today. Scotty’s first job (I think) was as a reporter for the local Santa Barbara, CA paper. One day in the mail we got a copy of an article he had written recently. It depicted one of those evenings he spent in bed with his Pop listening to the Phillies on the radio. I can’t recall the details or essence of the piece. I can only remember that young boy. Now adult man who remembered this night and chose to write about it. The event took place decades ago. The emotions I felt then remain. My most distinctive memory of Scotty? For sure. Says so much about my nephew. His priorities. How he’s chosen to pursue his passion and live an extraordinary life.

Oh … and I share with others so proudly … often, “I’m Scott Wilson”s uncle,”