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“William Oliver Scott the 2nd, I am going to tan your hide, if you do not hand me the salt from that top shelf. I have explained to you time, and again, not to put my cooking supplies, up so high. It is difficult, for me to reach them, without the aid of a step stool to climb on. Children, they will be the death of me. A volte, i miei figli dimenticare quanti anni ho. Dammi Signore la forza. Per favore! (Sometimes, my children forget how old I am. Give me strength Lord. Please!)” Victoria Scott said. Looking sternly at her oldest child, she pointed with a short, thin finger to the infamous top shelf, of the kitchen cabinet.
Will, being the oldest of seven children, knew exactly which button to press, to get his Mother agitated. Although, that not being his intention, he really strived to be in her good graces, the product was well worth the price.
He learned a long time ago, if you keep “Mamma” content, then the absolute domicile, was content. A portion of that contentedness, included her bread, a staple in the Scott home. And he desired some of that warm doughy goodness, smothered in fresh butter, and gooseberry jam.
The Scott home was an excellent place to grow up in. The children had worked hard on the farm, and learned the code of life. God, Family, Self. Being raised in an Scottish-Italian home, had its drawbacks at times, Will wouldn’t have changed his childhood for anything.
He had been raised in the Catholic faith. Religion was very important to him, and he respected his parents for the religious beliefs, and upbringing they bestowed upon him. God, took priority on the list.
He was also taught Italian, as a second language while growing up. For every English word he learned, he was taught the same word in Italian. All the Scott children were reared the exact way, and there was seven of them. Family was about all not one, he had been told that numerous times in his life. Family, was number two on the list.
You always thought of yourself last, never did you put yourself ahead of God, or Family. Because, you would not have a family without, God. Therefor there would be no family, if you only thought of yourself.
Victoria, or “Vicky”, as she was fondly known to friends, and family, was one of the most gifted baker’s in Missouri. She had won several blue ribbons, from the state, and county fairs, with her baked goods, which also included Will’s favorite, “cookies.” Vicky, had proudly placed the ribbons in frames, hung them, on the kitchen walls for all her guest’s to admire.
“I’m sorry Mamma, before supper last night, you told me to fill the salt shaker. When I finished, I put it there instead of the proper place. It was perfect for my height. I did not consider, short little women, having difficulty reaching it.” Standing, he easily reached the item that was causing his mother distress.
Will, stood 6’8”, and weighed 210 lbs, he was the tallest of the Scott children. His twin, Wes, stood 6’7”. Both were duplicates in every other way. Hazel eyes, and coal-black hair, that grew much to rapidly, therefore, necessitating visits to the barber shop, twice a month.
Unable to get the required exercise need to stay fit, and healthy. Due mainly to his work schedule. He exercised religiously three times a week, at the airport gym.
A woman, had informed him, that his body, reminded her of a statue of a “GREEK GOD”. Remembering her, brought heat to his body, and a blush to his cheeks.
Looking back several years, he had been a 26-year-old, Army pilot, stationed in Italy. Her name was, Alisa. She was a beautiful, spoiled, “rich girl”. They had met at the Officer’s Club, where she had been celebrating, with her acquaintances.
She had short, blond hair, and complained that it was permeable, and fatigued. Her eyes reminded him of blue-green Tourmaline, with long, thick, blond lashes. Alisa had worn heels when they were together. Lucky to reach 5’3” she was uncomfortable with their height difference. He had teased her about being “paffuto”, or plump, weighing 141 pounds.