ForeverMissed
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This memorial website was created in memory of our loved one, Leonard Scott Drorbaugh, 57 years old, born on September 25, 1953, and passed away on January 23, 2011. We will remember him forever.

Tributes are short messages commemorating Leonard Scott, or an expression of support to his closest family and friends. Leave your first tribute here, and others will follow.

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Amongst His Things

May 3, 2011

I am more than 90% through my father's things, and I am amazed by what he kept. It's so interesting to behold what ultimately matters enough to another person to be rescued from the minutiae of his daily existence and preserved through time. For me, it has been profoundly moving to discover what my father treasured. Below is a list of some noteworthy finds amongst his worldly effects:

-Multiple pictures of the red barn in Pennsylvania   (found in virtually every location where his private papers were stored).

-Virtually every drawing that I produced between the ages of 2 and 7, including multiple handmade birthday cards. 

-A letter I wrote to him in 1991 (on my Bugs Bunny stationary) apologizing for getting upset because he beat me at basketball (and thanking him for hugging my afterward even though I was angry at the time).

- Hundreds of cards from his sisters Barbara, Mary, and Holly - some decades old.

- A number of Mary's poems, some many years old. Many pieces of pottery that I believe were created by his sister, Tina.

-The letters of promotion that he received throughout the years, including his most recent promotion to Assistant Vice President at Citigroup, as well as the letter of resignation that he sent before moving to Florida in the mid-1990s.

-The speech he wrote (and then got too choked up to read) after my graduation from law school.

-The invitation from his wedding to my mom.

-A ceramic pig my brother made in the 3rd grade.

-The notification letter of my scholarship to Staten Island Academy and my acceptance letter to Stuyvesant. 

-Several books my brother wrote in 2nd grade. Scraps of Scotty's homework sheets where he was learning to write, to read, to multiply. 

-Multiple family trees and genealogies.

-Hundreds of postcards from art exhibits, hundreds of Playbills from on and off Broadway shows (I didn't know he'd seen so many). 

Sorting through my father's private things initially felt like a violation. Part of me was afraid he would show up and get angry with me. Part of me just wished he'd show up at all. But by the time I was through it, I felt closer to him. My father often wore the same shirt for three days in a row, he went without shoes, he showed up unannounced, and took a shower when the rest of the family was sitting down to dinner. Clothes, and shoes, and schedules just didn't matter to him.

But it is a special father who saves decades worth of his childrens' "scooter people" drawings, first attempts at cursive, and acceptance letters to high school. It is a deeply sentimental and caring man that hoardes his family's cards, and letters, and art.  I felt honored and humbled by how much Scotty and I mattered to him. It was impossible to be in his space and not feel his love. 

~Jenny

 

Bath Time

May 2, 2011

 

 

My first memory of my father is from the bathtub.  He would sit on the toilet next to the tub and we would play "soda shop." He would allow me to mix all of my mom's nice soaps and shampoos together to make "milkshakes," which he would dutifully order and then pretend to drink while I giggled in delight. I don't know if my mom ever complained to him about this (I suspect that she did), but he never made me stop. They say that the sense of smell is one of the strongest triggers of memories. My father smells like shampoo, and bubbles, and laughter. 
 
~Jenny  

 

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