Somewhere in this batch of essays, there is one called “Old Age is a Disease.”  That was a tribute to Hana Davis’s mother and to Howard Davis’s mother-in-law.  As I noted at the end of that essay, I never had the opportunity to meet the author of those lines about old age being a disease.  Unhappily, by the time I came to know Hana and Howard Davis, the woman who had propounded this maxim had passed on.  She of course was known in German as Frau Doktor Herta Knopfmacher Fischer.  While I missed the author of the line of that quote, “Old age is a disease,” fortunes were much better with respect to a gentleman from Harriman, Tennessee.  His name is Tom Scandlyn, and according to my determination, Tom Scandlyn and I have known each other since 1958, which according to the lunar calendar which I always use, comes to 53 years.
I first knew Tom Scandlyn in New York and then later I renewed my acquaintance with him when both of us worked in Washington.  He has been retired for several years now and lives in Madison, New Jersey so our acquaintance is still alive and vibrant.
Tom Scandlyn is an intellectual and when he speaks, his words mean something.  He would make a terrible bloviator on the cable talk shows.  For 53 years I have treasured the thoughts and musings of Mr. Scandlyn.
There was an occasion in recent years when Tom observed to me that he hoped his mind would outlive his body.  That is to say that in the choice between the body and the mind, he hoped that his mind would remain intact even while his body absorbs the ravages of time.
Those thoughts come to mind because of a recent case when arthritis afflicted the author of Ezra’s Essays.  As things now stand, Tom Scandlyn and I have no intention of entering the Olympics as pole vaulters or sprinters.  Tom and I are about the same age and we intend to hold on to both our minds and our bodies as long as possible.  The maxim that old age is a disease is not always kind to our bodies.  But from what I have observed, Tom Scandlyn’s mind is still hard at work producing progressive thoughts.
In my wife’s family, there is a lovely aunt who was born about the same time I was.  In recent years, although her body is strong, this lovely woman has shown signs of dementia.  She has good days and bad days.  The fact of the matter is that dementia is now a troubling factor in her life.  This case and others of the same sort have led me to conclude that Tom Scandlyn was on point when he observed that if age caused damage to his mind, he might give some second thoughts to how long he wished to stay around.  I hold the identical view.  If age in my case prevented my mind from working on at least six cylinders, I would call for the cops and tell them to get me out of here.
There are two other thoughts about Tom Scandlyn that should be observed here.  Tom was married to a physician named Naomi Green.  They enjoyed a loving relationship for more than 40 years and now that Naomi has gone, Tom has said to me that he “misses her terribly.”  I can understand that point of view and even I miss Naomi a great deal.
A final thought about Tom Scandlyn has to do with these essays.  You will recall that I write these essays as a means of repairing the damage done to my brain as the result of a stroke in 1997.  Whether they are restoring my brain is open to question.  At least I hope that whatever mental facilities I have can be hung onto for some time to come.   I send copies of Ezra’s Essays to Tom Scandlyn.  On the last batch of essays, Tom Scandlyn had this to say, “I regard each essay as a gift.”  I am here to tell you that I have never had such a great compliment before.  That Tom regards these essays as a gift, I am deeply indebted to him for that thought.
Well, on this cold Wednesday afternoon, these are my thoughts about the gentleman from Harriman, Tennessee.  After 53 years of knowing him, I can only say that Tom Scandlyn is a good and great man.  If I were to use an Irishism on Tom Scandlyn, it would be to say that he is a “decent man.”  So take your pick.  He is a good and decent man.
 
E. E. CARR
March 10, 2011
Essay 556
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Kevin’s commentary: Bloviator is a beautiful word and I have no excuse for why I didn’t know it until just now.
Tom has been published on the blog before — check out his post here.
Two other stories mentioning Tom can be found here and here. Seems like a great guy — hope he writes in again! Would love to see more of what he has to say, especially about Pop.