This was posted on the Daily Freeman website on 5/21.
LARGE- May 19, 2009, Scott A. Large of West Shokan. Formerly of Woodstock. Husband of Julia Large, stepfather of Godfrey Lucas, son of Patricia A. Large, brother of Susan Large-Mahoney and James Large, uncle of Dylan Large. Funeral service 10 A.M. Saturday at Lasher Funeral Home, Inc., Woodstock. Rev. Kenneth Walsh, officiating. Friends may call at the funeral home Friday 2 to 4 and 7 to 9 P.M.
In Memory of Scott Arnold Large by Glenn Kreisberg
During the course of our lives we all have many best friends, but we usually have only one oldest and closest friend. Scotty Large was my oldest and closest friend. I met Scott out in front of my house on Arnold Drive in Maverick Park in 1965. We lived at 23 and the Scotts family lived at 38. We were both 4 year olds trying to master two wheelers without training wheels. Scott picked it up faster than I. We lived in Maverick Park at the height of the IBM era, I guess in what could only be described as the Wonder Years, and no less than a dozen young boys’ age 5 to 10 lived on our block. It seemed every house had a set of brothers. Scotty, the freckled face redhead and I became fast friends and although I had two sisters Scotty soon became the brother I never had.
So, we learned to ride two wheelers together, we were in Indian Guides together, went off to kindergarten together, Y camp together and grade school and high school together. Because K follows L in the alphabet we were always in the same home room throughout the grades. Later, as young men, we became rock climbing partners together. As kids he went on vacation with my family and me with his. And he forgave me when my pet dog Jackie killed his pet rabbit Thumper.
Scotty left Onteora early and received his GED before the rest of us graduated. He moved to Seattle in 1979 and me and my friend Mike Collins, (Town councilman Chris Collins son) rode cross country on motorcycles to see Scott in Seattle the next summer. We drove past Mt St Helens on the way just as it was erupting. We were all of 18 or 19. At the end of that summer Michael sold his motorcycle and flew off to Hawaii never to return, I returned to Woodstock and Scotty remained in Seattle for the next few years before retuning to Woodstock as well. Later, Scott was best man for my wedding and me his.
I remember on my fourteenth birthday Scot and I took one of his dads old Manila hemp rope from his garage, up to one on the quarries off Jones Quarry Rd, tied it off to a tree and both of us climbed down and up, hand over hand, thinking we were rock climbing and rappelling. Little did we know how little we did know! It would be another five years before we would discover Mohonk and the Gunks down in New Paltz and begin what would soon become a life long passion; climbing and a true love of the outdoors. I think Scot felt he was closest to God, closest to his maker, when he was closest to nature, closest to the rock. Scotty routinely could be found sporting a tee shirt with some climbing slogan such as “the higher you get…the higher you get” or “live to climb…climb to die.”, or something equally as eloquent.
Scott and I climbed and camped for many seasons not only in the Gunks but on many road trips to the granite cliffs and ledges of New Hampshire, where we did the second recorded Tyrolean traverse from the Prow of Cathedral Ledge to the Summit of the Rainbow Wall, near North Conway. We also traveled more than once to the steep white limestone cliffs off the Georgian Bay on the Bruce Peninsular in Ontario. I’ll never forget driving 10 hours up to Ontario in Scotts little blue Mitsubishi pick up truck, with his oversized golden retriever Timba stuffed between us the whole way. Scott and I were in some ways unlikely climbing partners, him large and muscular, me more small and slight. But, we both brought different skill sets to the climbs we chose to tackle, which turned out to be complimentary and which proved to be an asset in accomplishing our climbing goals.
In the outback regions of the Shawangunks Scotty and I put up a few reported first ascents including the sport climbs Borderline and Over the Border, which may or may not be located on the Mohonk Preserve. In the early 1990’s Scott received his NYS DEC outdoors guides license for climbing and camping. We guided together for a few seasons on the Mohonk Preserve for Mountain Skill Climbing School in Stone Ridge. Those were really good days.
Scott had an iron will and an inner strength that when tapped into allowed him to physically train for peak performance. On his mountain bike he would seek out the biggest, longest, most sustained uphill rides. I quickly learned that going for a bike ride with Scott was usually and exercise in self punishment. But such training allowed Scott to compete in some grueling extreme competitions, such as the Katterskill Spring Rush, a pentathlon which involved skiing down Hunter Mtn, biking 100 miles, running 26 miles and portaging and paddling a canoe for 3 miles. Competing in a two man team, Scotty always finished very respectfully near the front of the pack.
Scotty was also a very accomplished golfer and for years was a member of the Woodstock County Club. Scott’s dad, Don, was also an avid golfer, who I remember maintained meticulously manicures practice greens on the side lawn of their property in Maverick Park. Don would have been proud of Scott’s golf skills, which made him a bit of a legend at the golf course where he once won a local tournament by sinking a 40 foot putt with his unusual one armed club stroke technique. Over many years Scott was well known on both the course and in the clubhouse at the Woodstock Country Club.
Scott was the kind of guy who you wanted on your side in a tough time. He was someone I cold always count on as a true friend and to help out if in a bind. He tended to see things in terms of black or white, right or wrong and that help him to keep things simple and clear as far as what he was for and against. As a Taurus, Scotty was suborn as a bull but nearly always came around to what was right, once faced with reason.
He cared, loved and respected all animals and wildlife and as an expert bow hunter took only food for the table and offered homage to the animals he hunted in the fashion of the Natives of this land.
Scott was also a highly skilled carpenter, builder and craftsman who took great pride in his work and accomplishments and considered his tools, some which were handed down from his father and grandfather, among his prized possessions. Scott always considered himself a perfectionist, seeking a high standard of quality if his name went on the work.
What brought Scotty happiness in recent years was his family. He loved being a family man and the joy and happiness his wife Julie and stepson Godfrey brought him is what sustained him through ups and downs, through troubled times.
But mostly, Scott was a big guy with an even bigger heart. As rough and gruff as his exterior could be, inside I knew he was just a big softy…a big mush of a teddy bear with a really big heart and a really good spirit. I think Scott had such a big heart he sometimes had a hard time accepting how unfair live could be, as we now have a hard time accepting how unfair it is to have him taken from us so unexpectedly.
A day won’t go by, for the rest of my live, where I won’t think about Scotty Large, remember the person he was, the things he did, his presence in this world and what he offered me and taught me and others about the importance and meaning of friendship. Scott, you’ll always be my oldest and closest friend.
David Shultis
This was posted on the Daily Freeman website on 5/21.LARGE- May 19, 2009, Scott A. Large of West Shokan. Formerly of Woodstock. Husband of Julia Large, stepfather of Godfrey Lucas, son of Patricia A. Large, brother of Susan Large-Mahoney and James Large, uncle of Dylan Large. Funeral service 10 A.M. Saturday at Lasher Funeral Home, Inc., Woodstock. Rev. Kenneth Walsh, officiating. Friends may call at the funeral home Friday 2 to 4 and 7 to 9 P.M.
Glenn Kreisberg
This was read at Scotty's funeral service:In Memory of Scott Arnold Large by Glenn Kreisberg
During the course of our lives we all have many best friends, but we usually have only one oldest and closest friend. Scotty Large was my oldest and closest friend. I met Scott out in front of my house on Arnold Drive in Maverick Park in 1965. We lived at 23 and the Scotts family lived at 38. We were both 4 year olds trying to master two wheelers without training wheels. Scott picked it up faster than I. We lived in Maverick Park at the height of the IBM era, I guess in what could only be described as the Wonder Years, and no less than a dozen young boys’ age 5 to 10 lived on our block. It seemed every house had a set of brothers. Scotty, the freckled face redhead and I became fast friends and although I had two sisters Scotty soon became the brother I never had.
So, we learned to ride two wheelers together, we were in Indian Guides together, went off to kindergarten together, Y camp together and grade school and high school together. Because K follows L in the alphabet we were always in the same home room throughout the grades. Later, as young men, we became rock climbing partners together. As kids he went on vacation with my family and me with his. And he forgave me when my pet dog Jackie killed his pet rabbit Thumper.
Scotty left Onteora early and received his GED before the rest of us graduated. He moved to Seattle in 1979 and me and my friend Mike Collins, (Town councilman Chris Collins son) rode cross country on motorcycles to see Scott in Seattle the next summer. We drove past Mt St Helens on the way just as it was erupting. We were all of 18 or 19. At the end of that summer Michael sold his motorcycle and flew off to Hawaii never to return, I returned to Woodstock and Scotty remained in Seattle for the next few years before retuning to Woodstock as well. Later, Scott was best man for my wedding and me his.
I remember on my fourteenth birthday Scot and I took one of his dads old Manila hemp rope from his garage, up to one on the quarries off Jones Quarry Rd, tied it off to a tree and both of us climbed down and up, hand over hand, thinking we were rock climbing and rappelling. Little did we know how little we did know! It would be another five years before we would discover Mohonk and the Gunks down in New Paltz and begin what would soon become a life long passion; climbing and a true love of the outdoors. I think Scot felt he was closest to God, closest to his maker, when he was closest to nature, closest to the rock. Scotty routinely could be found sporting a tee shirt with some climbing slogan such as “the higher you get…the higher you get” or “live to climb…climb to die.”, or something equally as eloquent.
Scott and I climbed and camped for many seasons not only in the Gunks but on many road trips to the granite cliffs and ledges of New Hampshire, where we did the second recorded Tyrolean traverse from the Prow of Cathedral Ledge to the Summit of the Rainbow Wall, near North Conway. We also traveled more than once to the steep white limestone cliffs off the Georgian Bay on the Bruce Peninsular in Ontario. I’ll never forget driving 10 hours up to Ontario in Scotts little blue Mitsubishi pick up truck, with his oversized golden retriever Timba stuffed between us the whole way. Scott and I were in some ways unlikely climbing partners, him large and muscular, me more small and slight. But, we both brought different skill sets to the climbs we chose to tackle, which turned out to be complimentary and which proved to be an asset in accomplishing our climbing goals.
In the outback regions of the Shawangunks Scotty and I put up a few reported first ascents including the sport climbs Borderline and Over the Border, which may or may not be located on the Mohonk Preserve. In the early 1990’s Scott received his NYS DEC outdoors guides license for climbing and camping. We guided together for a few seasons on the Mohonk Preserve for Mountain Skill Climbing School in Stone Ridge. Those were really good days.
Scott had an iron will and an inner strength that when tapped into allowed him to physically train for peak performance. On his mountain bike he would seek out the biggest, longest, most sustained uphill rides. I quickly learned that going for a bike ride with Scott was usually and exercise in self punishment. But such training allowed Scott to compete in some grueling extreme competitions, such as the Katterskill Spring Rush, a pentathlon which involved skiing down Hunter Mtn, biking 100 miles, running 26 miles and portaging and paddling a canoe for 3 miles. Competing in a two man team, Scotty always finished very respectfully near the front of the pack.
Scotty was also a very accomplished golfer and for years was a member of the Woodstock County Club. Scott’s dad, Don, was also an avid golfer, who I remember maintained meticulously manicures practice greens on the side lawn of their property in Maverick Park. Don would have been proud of Scott’s golf skills, which made him a bit of a legend at the golf course where he once won a local tournament by sinking a 40 foot putt with his unusual one armed club stroke technique. Over many years Scott was well known on both the course and in the clubhouse at the Woodstock Country Club.
Scott was the kind of guy who you wanted on your side in a tough time. He was someone I cold always count on as a true friend and to help out if in a bind. He tended to see things in terms of black or white, right or wrong and that help him to keep things simple and clear as far as what he was for and against. As a Taurus, Scotty was suborn as a bull but nearly always came around to what was right, once faced with reason.
He cared, loved and respected all animals and wildlife and as an expert bow hunter took only food for the table and offered homage to the animals he hunted in the fashion of the Natives of this land.
Scott was also a highly skilled carpenter, builder and craftsman who took great pride in his work and accomplishments and considered his tools, some which were handed down from his father and grandfather, among his prized possessions. Scott always considered himself a perfectionist, seeking a high standard of quality if his name went on the work.
What brought Scotty happiness in recent years was his family. He loved being a family man and the joy and happiness his wife Julie and stepson Godfrey brought him is what sustained him through ups and downs, through troubled times.
But mostly, Scott was a big guy with an even bigger heart. As rough and gruff as his exterior could be, inside I knew he was just a big softy…a big mush of a teddy bear with a really big heart and a really good spirit. I think Scott had such a big heart he sometimes had a hard time accepting how unfair live could be, as we now have a hard time accepting how unfair it is to have him taken from us so unexpectedly.
A day won’t go by, for the rest of my live, where I won’t think about Scotty Large, remember the person he was, the things he did, his presence in this world and what he offered me and taught me and others about the importance and meaning of friendship.
Scott, you’ll always be my oldest and closest friend.