Scott R. Edgar

I was born in 1974 in Eugene, Oregon — in Sacred Hearts Hospital to be exact. My two older sisters were both born in England, so I guess it was fitting that my parents' “All American Boy” was born on Babe Ruth’s birthday. Shortly thereafter, my mom brought me home in a bundle to the blackberry covered banks of the Willamette River in Harrisburg. As we drove, she held me in her arms, in the front passenger seat with no seat belt. (Ah, 1974) We arrived at our destination, my Grandparent’s old, two-story Victorian home that was and still is guarded by two lion statues at the end of the driveway where we were welcomed by my two enamored big sisters.

At that time, my dad was in the USAF and stationed in Thailand, but before he left, he made one request of his pregnant wife: “If our baby is a boy, don’t name him after me. It would just be too confusing.” She replied, blinking her beautiful eyes, “Okay, Scott. Now you go and be a good soldier.” Well, as evidenced by the fact that my dad received notice of my birth via Western Union telegram, there wasn’t much he could say or do from Thailand in 1974 when I was born and my sweet Mom looked at me and whispered, “You’re my little Scottie.”

And that’s how it all started for me.

And now I'm 49 years old and a father of 5 wonderful kids. I love to write and explore the deserts in southern Utah.

Photo Link: Me at Lower Calf Creek Falls