Julia H. Scott, 63, of 169 North Main Street, Perry died Saturday, October 8, 1983 in the Lackawanna Our Lady of Victory Hospital after a brief illness.
A long time area resident, Mrs. Scott had worked 20 years as an assembly worker at the Warsaw Mallory Timers Plant.
She was a 1939 graduate of the Perry High School and was a member of the Holy Apostles Episcopal Church of Perry.
Survivors include her husband of 41 years, Gordon Merrill Scott, three sons, Steven Merrill Scott of Rochester, Eugene Lauren Scott of Virginia and James Clark Scott of Perry and one sister, Mrs. Frances H. Koons of Rochester.
Prayers will be said Tuesday at 1 PM in the Eaton-Watson Funeral Home in Perry preceded by a 2PM Funeral service in the Holy Apostles Church.
Burial will be in the Glenwood Cemetery, Perry.
Obituary published in Warsaw Western New Yorker October 11-12, 1983.
She was one of the last children born in Gibsonville, New York, which is now part of Letchworth State Park.
~~~~~~~~~~
Julia Scott
My memories of Aunt Julia are vivid. What I miss most is her giggle and her laughter. Julia was my mother’s younger sister. She had a hard life but was still cheerful and generous.
My mother, Frances, left home right after her high school graduation. That left Julia to assume more chores and work on the farm my grandparents owned. She was their unpaid farm hand for several years. Eventually she married Gordon Scott and they moved to an apartment in Perry, New York.
Even in her tiny apartment, Julia managed to make and serve Thanksgiving Day dinner for our family and her in-laws. I remember one Thanksgiving Day when we children were still little when we got snowed in at Julia’s. We spent the night on the floor safe from the storm.
The tradition of Thanksgiving dinner at Aunt Julia’s continued until her death. When I think about how elaborate and delicious her meals were, I am amazed. We all loved her famous fruit salad and her mince meat pies. She always had a turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, squash and homemade rolls. Not only was this meal a financial drain on their family budget; her kitchen was tiny, with no counter space to work on. In a carefully choreographed fashion she managed to create a wonderful meal on her kitchen table. I remember the yeast rolls rising over the heat register on top of a laundry rack. She had a small sink; there was no garbage disposal or dishwasher. Everything was made from scratch. I remember one year they bought a huge Hubbard squash and Uncle Gordon had cut it up with an axe in the woodshed so she could get it into the oven.
Everyone was welcomed to the family table. My sister was married to a black man and Julia welcomed them both. This was very unusual; there weren’t many black people in Perry. My husband and I adopted a Korean-born daughter, and they welcomed her warmly.
I remember helping clear the table and washing dishes after these meals. My mother and Julia would sit at the table and catch up, laughing together and relaxing. My Uncle Gordon would join in if there wasn’t a football game to watch.
I don’t remember my mother ever making or bringing anything to these family gatherings. That strikes me as odd now; these days everyone brings something to share for the meal.
Aunt Julia was also inclusive of our family at other times too. She was always eager to go sightseeing, and when she got her husband to agree, she would call us up, invite us, and then whip up a picnic to take along. We would pile into their car and off we would go.
Uncle Gordon was a quiet moody man. He wasn’t always happy when we started out on these excursions. My Aunt Julia would be happy and excited, and her mood soon won Gordon over and he would lighten up.
Julia and Gordon had two little boys and living in a tiny apartment was very hard. My grandparents could no longer afford to keep the farm in Castile, so they sold it. They used the money to buy a duplex in Perry. My grandparents lived upstairs and Julia and Gordon and the boys lived downstairs. Soon there was a third boy, James. They were very cramped in this house too; there were only two bedrooms and a tiny bathroom. The younger boys slept in their parent’s bedroom on bunk beds for years.
I remember my Aunt used to hang her wash on clotheslines on the front porch, even in winter. The laundry froze stiff as boards. She had to thaw things to fold them and put them away.
After my grandparents died, the boys moved upstairs, with two bedrooms and a bath there was space to move and have personal belongings.
Aunt Julia worked full-time in a factory in Warsaw. When Uncle Gordon retired from his job as a car parts manager, he begged her to stay home with him. She didn’t, she continued to work until her death at age 63. Julia suffered from high blood pressure and had trouble with the medications. She often went without taking them. One morning she got up to go to work, was dressed and ready to go, when she suddenly fell ill. She lay down on the couch and lost consciousness. She died of a cerebral aneurysm. Her death devastated her family. We all miss her laugh and the sparkle in her eyes.
Every Thanksgiving I remember Aunt Julia and the wonderful meals we shared and the closeness we felt as a family.
Jackie Barnes, October 2014
************
This was posted above our sink since the sixties. It was a clipping from the newspaper. Julie swore by this!
How do I know my youth is all spent?
My get up and go has got up and went
But in spite of it all I'm able to grin
And think of the places my get up has been
Old age is golden so I've heard said
But sometimes I wonder as I crawl into bed
With my ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup
My eyes on the table until I wake up
As sleep dims my vision I say to myself
Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?
But though nations are warring and business is vexed
I'll stick around to see what happens next
When I was young my slippers were red
I could kick up my heels right over my head
When I was older my slippers were blue
But still I could dance the whole night thru
Now I am older my slippers are black
I huff to the store and I puff my way back
But never you laugh; I don't mind at all
I'd rather be huffing than not puff at all
How do I know my youth is all spent?
My get up and go has got up and went
But in spite of it all I'm able to grin
And think of the places my get up has been
I get up each morning and dust off my wits
Open the paper and read the obits
If I'm not there I know I'm not dead
So I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed.
A long time area resident, Mrs. Scott had worked 20 years as an assembly worker at the Warsaw Mallory Timers Plant.
She was a 1939 graduate of the Perry High School and was a member of the Holy Apostles Episcopal Church of Perry.
Survivors include her husband of 41 years, Gordon Merrill Scott, three sons, Steven Merrill Scott of Rochester, Eugene Lauren Scott of Virginia and James Clark Scott of Perry and one sister, Mrs. Frances H. Koons of Rochester.
Prayers will be said Tuesday at 1 PM in the Eaton-Watson Funeral Home in Perry preceded by a 2PM Funeral service in the Holy Apostles Church.
Burial will be in the Glenwood Cemetery, Perry.
Obituary published in Warsaw Western New Yorker October 11-12, 1983.
She was one of the last children born in Gibsonville, New York, which is now part of Letchworth State Park.
~~~~~~~~~~
Julia Scott
My memories of Aunt Julia are vivid. What I miss most is her giggle and her laughter. Julia was my mother’s younger sister. She had a hard life but was still cheerful and generous.
My mother, Frances, left home right after her high school graduation. That left Julia to assume more chores and work on the farm my grandparents owned. She was their unpaid farm hand for several years. Eventually she married Gordon Scott and they moved to an apartment in Perry, New York.
Even in her tiny apartment, Julia managed to make and serve Thanksgiving Day dinner for our family and her in-laws. I remember one Thanksgiving Day when we children were still little when we got snowed in at Julia’s. We spent the night on the floor safe from the storm.
The tradition of Thanksgiving dinner at Aunt Julia’s continued until her death. When I think about how elaborate and delicious her meals were, I am amazed. We all loved her famous fruit salad and her mince meat pies. She always had a turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, squash and homemade rolls. Not only was this meal a financial drain on their family budget; her kitchen was tiny, with no counter space to work on. In a carefully choreographed fashion she managed to create a wonderful meal on her kitchen table. I remember the yeast rolls rising over the heat register on top of a laundry rack. She had a small sink; there was no garbage disposal or dishwasher. Everything was made from scratch. I remember one year they bought a huge Hubbard squash and Uncle Gordon had cut it up with an axe in the woodshed so she could get it into the oven.
Everyone was welcomed to the family table. My sister was married to a black man and Julia welcomed them both. This was very unusual; there weren’t many black people in Perry. My husband and I adopted a Korean-born daughter, and they welcomed her warmly.
I remember helping clear the table and washing dishes after these meals. My mother and Julia would sit at the table and catch up, laughing together and relaxing. My Uncle Gordon would join in if there wasn’t a football game to watch.
I don’t remember my mother ever making or bringing anything to these family gatherings. That strikes me as odd now; these days everyone brings something to share for the meal.
Aunt Julia was also inclusive of our family at other times too. She was always eager to go sightseeing, and when she got her husband to agree, she would call us up, invite us, and then whip up a picnic to take along. We would pile into their car and off we would go.
Uncle Gordon was a quiet moody man. He wasn’t always happy when we started out on these excursions. My Aunt Julia would be happy and excited, and her mood soon won Gordon over and he would lighten up.
Julia and Gordon had two little boys and living in a tiny apartment was very hard. My grandparents could no longer afford to keep the farm in Castile, so they sold it. They used the money to buy a duplex in Perry. My grandparents lived upstairs and Julia and Gordon and the boys lived downstairs. Soon there was a third boy, James. They were very cramped in this house too; there were only two bedrooms and a tiny bathroom. The younger boys slept in their parent’s bedroom on bunk beds for years.
I remember my Aunt used to hang her wash on clotheslines on the front porch, even in winter. The laundry froze stiff as boards. She had to thaw things to fold them and put them away.
After my grandparents died, the boys moved upstairs, with two bedrooms and a bath there was space to move and have personal belongings.
Aunt Julia worked full-time in a factory in Warsaw. When Uncle Gordon retired from his job as a car parts manager, he begged her to stay home with him. She didn’t, she continued to work until her death at age 63. Julia suffered from high blood pressure and had trouble with the medications. She often went without taking them. One morning she got up to go to work, was dressed and ready to go, when she suddenly fell ill. She lay down on the couch and lost consciousness. She died of a cerebral aneurysm. Her death devastated her family. We all miss her laugh and the sparkle in her eyes.
Every Thanksgiving I remember Aunt Julia and the wonderful meals we shared and the closeness we felt as a family.
Jackie Barnes, October 2014
************
This was posted above our sink since the sixties. It was a clipping from the newspaper. Julie swore by this!
How do I know my youth is all spent?
My get up and go has got up and went
But in spite of it all I'm able to grin
And think of the places my get up has been
Old age is golden so I've heard said
But sometimes I wonder as I crawl into bed
With my ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup
My eyes on the table until I wake up
As sleep dims my vision I say to myself
Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?
But though nations are warring and business is vexed
I'll stick around to see what happens next
When I was young my slippers were red
I could kick up my heels right over my head
When I was older my slippers were blue
But still I could dance the whole night thru
Now I am older my slippers are black
I huff to the store and I puff my way back
But never you laugh; I don't mind at all
I'd rather be huffing than not puff at all
How do I know my youth is all spent?
My get up and go has got up and went
But in spite of it all I'm able to grin
And think of the places my get up has been
I get up each morning and dust off my wits
Open the paper and read the obits
If I'm not there I know I'm not dead
So I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed.
Julia H. Scott, 63, of 169 North Main Street, Perry died Saturday, October 8, 1983 in the Lackawanna Our Lady of Victory Hospital after a brief illness.
A long time area resident, Mrs. Scott had worked 20 years as an assembly worker at the Warsaw Mallory Timers Plant.
She was a 1939 graduate of the Perry High School and was a member of the Holy Apostles Episcopal Church of Perry.
Survivors include her husband of 41 years, Gordon Merrill Scott, three sons, Steven Merrill Scott of Rochester, Eugene Lauren Scott of Virginia and James Clark Scott of Perry and one sister, Mrs. Frances H. Koons of Rochester.
Prayers will be said Tuesday at 1 PM in the Eaton-Watson Funeral Home in Perry preceded by a 2PM Funeral service in the Holy Apostles Church.
Burial will be in the Glenwood Cemetery, Perry.
Obituary published in Warsaw Western New Yorker October 11-12, 1983.
She was one of the last children born in Gibsonville, New York, which is now part of Letchworth State Park.
~~~~~~~~~~
Julia Scott
My memories of Aunt Julia are vivid. What I miss most is her giggle and her laughter. Julia was my mother’s younger sister. She had a hard life but was still cheerful and generous.
My mother, Frances, left home right after her high school graduation. That left Julia to assume more chores and work on the farm my grandparents owned. She was their unpaid farm hand for several years. Eventually she married Gordon Scott and they moved to an apartment in Perry, New York.
Even in her tiny apartment, Julia managed to make and serve Thanksgiving Day dinner for our family and her in-laws. I remember one Thanksgiving Day when we children were still little when we got snowed in at Julia’s. We spent the night on the floor safe from the storm.
The tradition of Thanksgiving dinner at Aunt Julia’s continued until her death. When I think about how elaborate and delicious her meals were, I am amazed. We all loved her famous fruit salad and her mince meat pies. She always had a turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, squash and homemade rolls. Not only was this meal a financial drain on their family budget; her kitchen was tiny, with no counter space to work on. In a carefully choreographed fashion she managed to create a wonderful meal on her kitchen table. I remember the yeast rolls rising over the heat register on top of a laundry rack. She had a small sink; there was no garbage disposal or dishwasher. Everything was made from scratch. I remember one year they bought a huge Hubbard squash and Uncle Gordon had cut it up with an axe in the woodshed so she could get it into the oven.
Everyone was welcomed to the family table. My sister was married to a black man and Julia welcomed them both. This was very unusual; there weren’t many black people in Perry. My husband and I adopted a Korean-born daughter, and they welcomed her warmly.
I remember helping clear the table and washing dishes after these meals. My mother and Julia would sit at the table and catch up, laughing together and relaxing. My Uncle Gordon would join in if there wasn’t a football game to watch.
I don’t remember my mother ever making or bringing anything to these family gatherings. That strikes me as odd now; these days everyone brings something to share for the meal.
Aunt Julia was also inclusive of our family at other times too. She was always eager to go sightseeing, and when she got her husband to agree, she would call us up, invite us, and then whip up a picnic to take along. We would pile into their car and off we would go.
Uncle Gordon was a quiet moody man. He wasn’t always happy when we started out on these excursions. My Aunt Julia would be happy and excited, and her mood soon won Gordon over and he would lighten up.
Julia and Gordon had two little boys and living in a tiny apartment was very hard. My grandparents could no longer afford to keep the farm in Castile, so they sold it. They used the money to buy a duplex in Perry. My grandparents lived upstairs and Julia and Gordon and the boys lived downstairs. Soon there was a third boy, James. They were very cramped in this house too; there were only two bedrooms and a tiny bathroom. The younger boys slept in their parent’s bedroom on bunk beds for years.
I remember my Aunt used to hang her wash on clotheslines on the front porch, even in winter. The laundry froze stiff as boards. She had to thaw things to fold them and put them away.
After my grandparents died, the boys moved upstairs, with two bedrooms and a bath there was space to move and have personal belongings.
Aunt Julia worked full-time in a factory in Warsaw. When Uncle Gordon retired from his job as a car parts manager, he begged her to stay home with him. She didn’t, she continued to work until her death at age 63. Julia suffered from high blood pressure and had trouble with the medications. She often went without taking them. One morning she got up to go to work, was dressed and ready to go, when she suddenly fell ill. She lay down on the couch and lost consciousness. She died of a cerebral aneurysm. Her death devastated her family. We all miss her laugh and the sparkle in her eyes.
Every Thanksgiving I remember Aunt Julia and the wonderful meals we shared and the closeness we felt as a family.
Jackie Barnes, October 2014
************
This was posted above our sink since the sixties. It was a clipping from the newspaper. Julie swore by this!
How do I know my youth is all spent?
My get up and go has got up and went
But in spite of it all I'm able to grin
And think of the places my get up has been
Old age is golden so I've heard said
But sometimes I wonder as I crawl into bed
With my ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup
My eyes on the table until I wake up
As sleep dims my vision I say to myself
Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?
But though nations are warring and business is vexed
I'll stick around to see what happens next
When I was young my slippers were red
I could kick up my heels right over my head
When I was older my slippers were blue
But still I could dance the whole night thru
Now I am older my slippers are black
I huff to the store and I puff my way back
But never you laugh; I don't mind at all
I'd rather be huffing than not puff at all
How do I know my youth is all spent?
My get up and go has got up and went
But in spite of it all I'm able to grin
And think of the places my get up has been
I get up each morning and dust off my wits
Open the paper and read the obits
If I'm not there I know I'm not dead
So I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed.
A long time area resident, Mrs. Scott had worked 20 years as an assembly worker at the Warsaw Mallory Timers Plant.
She was a 1939 graduate of the Perry High School and was a member of the Holy Apostles Episcopal Church of Perry.
Survivors include her husband of 41 years, Gordon Merrill Scott, three sons, Steven Merrill Scott of Rochester, Eugene Lauren Scott of Virginia and James Clark Scott of Perry and one sister, Mrs. Frances H. Koons of Rochester.
Prayers will be said Tuesday at 1 PM in the Eaton-Watson Funeral Home in Perry preceded by a 2PM Funeral service in the Holy Apostles Church.
Burial will be in the Glenwood Cemetery, Perry.
Obituary published in Warsaw Western New Yorker October 11-12, 1983.
She was one of the last children born in Gibsonville, New York, which is now part of Letchworth State Park.
~~~~~~~~~~
Julia Scott
My memories of Aunt Julia are vivid. What I miss most is her giggle and her laughter. Julia was my mother’s younger sister. She had a hard life but was still cheerful and generous.
My mother, Frances, left home right after her high school graduation. That left Julia to assume more chores and work on the farm my grandparents owned. She was their unpaid farm hand for several years. Eventually she married Gordon Scott and they moved to an apartment in Perry, New York.
Even in her tiny apartment, Julia managed to make and serve Thanksgiving Day dinner for our family and her in-laws. I remember one Thanksgiving Day when we children were still little when we got snowed in at Julia’s. We spent the night on the floor safe from the storm.
The tradition of Thanksgiving dinner at Aunt Julia’s continued until her death. When I think about how elaborate and delicious her meals were, I am amazed. We all loved her famous fruit salad and her mince meat pies. She always had a turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, squash and homemade rolls. Not only was this meal a financial drain on their family budget; her kitchen was tiny, with no counter space to work on. In a carefully choreographed fashion she managed to create a wonderful meal on her kitchen table. I remember the yeast rolls rising over the heat register on top of a laundry rack. She had a small sink; there was no garbage disposal or dishwasher. Everything was made from scratch. I remember one year they bought a huge Hubbard squash and Uncle Gordon had cut it up with an axe in the woodshed so she could get it into the oven.
Everyone was welcomed to the family table. My sister was married to a black man and Julia welcomed them both. This was very unusual; there weren’t many black people in Perry. My husband and I adopted a Korean-born daughter, and they welcomed her warmly.
I remember helping clear the table and washing dishes after these meals. My mother and Julia would sit at the table and catch up, laughing together and relaxing. My Uncle Gordon would join in if there wasn’t a football game to watch.
I don’t remember my mother ever making or bringing anything to these family gatherings. That strikes me as odd now; these days everyone brings something to share for the meal.
Aunt Julia was also inclusive of our family at other times too. She was always eager to go sightseeing, and when she got her husband to agree, she would call us up, invite us, and then whip up a picnic to take along. We would pile into their car and off we would go.
Uncle Gordon was a quiet moody man. He wasn’t always happy when we started out on these excursions. My Aunt Julia would be happy and excited, and her mood soon won Gordon over and he would lighten up.
Julia and Gordon had two little boys and living in a tiny apartment was very hard. My grandparents could no longer afford to keep the farm in Castile, so they sold it. They used the money to buy a duplex in Perry. My grandparents lived upstairs and Julia and Gordon and the boys lived downstairs. Soon there was a third boy, James. They were very cramped in this house too; there were only two bedrooms and a tiny bathroom. The younger boys slept in their parent’s bedroom on bunk beds for years.
I remember my Aunt used to hang her wash on clotheslines on the front porch, even in winter. The laundry froze stiff as boards. She had to thaw things to fold them and put them away.
After my grandparents died, the boys moved upstairs, with two bedrooms and a bath there was space to move and have personal belongings.
Aunt Julia worked full-time in a factory in Warsaw. When Uncle Gordon retired from his job as a car parts manager, he begged her to stay home with him. She didn’t, she continued to work until her death at age 63. Julia suffered from high blood pressure and had trouble with the medications. She often went without taking them. One morning she got up to go to work, was dressed and ready to go, when she suddenly fell ill. She lay down on the couch and lost consciousness. She died of a cerebral aneurysm. Her death devastated her family. We all miss her laugh and the sparkle in her eyes.
Every Thanksgiving I remember Aunt Julia and the wonderful meals we shared and the closeness we felt as a family.
Jackie Barnes, October 2014
************
This was posted above our sink since the sixties. It was a clipping from the newspaper. Julie swore by this!
How do I know my youth is all spent?
My get up and go has got up and went
But in spite of it all I'm able to grin
And think of the places my get up has been
Old age is golden so I've heard said
But sometimes I wonder as I crawl into bed
With my ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup
My eyes on the table until I wake up
As sleep dims my vision I say to myself
Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?
But though nations are warring and business is vexed
I'll stick around to see what happens next
When I was young my slippers were red
I could kick up my heels right over my head
When I was older my slippers were blue
But still I could dance the whole night thru
Now I am older my slippers are black
I huff to the store and I puff my way back
But never you laugh; I don't mind at all
I'd rather be huffing than not puff at all
How do I know my youth is all spent?
My get up and go has got up and went
But in spite of it all I'm able to grin
And think of the places my get up has been
I get up each morning and dust off my wits
Open the paper and read the obits
If I'm not there I know I'm not dead
So I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed.
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