Scott Dopp

 How in the world did I get that stupid postage stamp thing of my face in the corner of this beautiful picture of Scott?

You haven't seen this handsome man in very many of the pictures of all the summer fun.  That's because he is usually hard at work, earning the money and making the plans that facilitate lives of leisure for the rest of us.  While I'm sitting in the shade at Cherry Hill, he is in court, trying dozens of cases every day, all of which take preparation.  While I am diving into the pool, he is at the office, paying bills and balancing the books.  While I am boating and eating ice cream, he is meeting with clients, one right after the other, in a crazy whirlwind of paperwork and diplomacy.

And while I am driving across the country, practically throwing money out the car windows as I go, Scott will be home working, making darn sure we have enough money to keep us safe and happy.  And he'll be missing us like crazy.  And he won't get the thanks he deserves.  So just as a start, I would like to thank Scott for knowing that I am capable of driving the kids across the country by myself, for going along with the plan, for working so hard to make it happen, and for being willing to be the man who gets no recognition for all his sacrifices.  Also, I would like to thank him for his extreme trust in me.  We were talking about Genevieve, the woman Golda and Ruby are staying with, and it came up that I haven't seen her since 1989, when I stayed at her place in Paris.  Scott said, "So we trusted our girls to someone you haven't seen for 24 years?"  Yep.  Oh, AND in Italy, they're staying with people we have never met.  Oh, AND in Spain they're staying with the sister of the guy I "Dear Johned" Scott for in - again - 1989, that magical year.  Sometimes, Scott just closes his eyes and hopes that I know what I'm doing.  I so love him for that.

Yesterday, I was wearing a tie-dye sarong that just matched my pink-and-purple hair.  Scott looked at me and said, "You're scaring me."  I know I scare him on a daily basis, for all kinds of reasons, but he takes it all in stride.  He has an incredible capacity for acceptance that extends far beyond me and my funny outfits.

I feel terribly guilty that Scott has to miss out on some of the fun things we do.  He hangs out with us every chance he gets, but the sad reality is that people have jobs.  Booooo!  Last night, I told the kids that Dad was coming to Cherry Hill.  Freestone excitedly said, "Is he bringing pizza?!"

I said no, and Freestone said, "Well, what's the point, then?"  Ouch.  I guess Freestone has gotten accustomed to his handsome, well-dressed father coming to Cherry Hill in one of his dapper suits, carrying a pizza so we won't have to be hungry while we play.  It seems we all take for granted that Dad will provide for all our needs whenever we summon him.

And it's true.  He always jumps at the chance to pick up a new outfit for a child who needs one, bring dinner to his cute little swimmers, take a kid out for breakfast or lunch, carefully choose a book for a special child, and make sure all their Kindles are charged and uploaded with all the right books, apps and games to keep them entertained.  He is quick to share his interests and theirs, and a pushover when it comes to bedtimes.  He would rather have some little night owls snuggled up to him on the couch, feigning an interest in Sports Center, than put them to bed.

Scott's mind is always consumed with his family's needs and desires, and he always seems to deliver, to a greater extent than any of the kids ever ask for.  After he spent five days with Golda and Ruby in New York, culminating in saying good-bye to them at the airport, he came home and cried his eyes out for days.  He cherishes the time he gets to spend with his growing kids.  All his experiences with them are made sweeter by the fact that they have to be squeezed in between the practicalities of life.

And squeeze he does, making the most of each moment, whether he is with the kids and me or at work.  So if you look closely, Scott really is in each and every picture.  You just can't see him sometimes.