Eugene Scott A.B. My Brother, Mentor and True Friend I became acquainted with A.B. in the early 1970s while attending the College of West Africa, where he was a classmate of my oldest brother. Back then, it was common for seventh graders to be at the mercy of upper classmen – our antics would always get us a beating or a slap behind the head from upper classmen. After Aaron’s death, while reminiscing with old boyhood friends who got those beatings and slaps, many could not recall Aaron delivering any of the blows or slaps. That was a glimpse of who he was. Aaron was peaceful, yet quite capable of defending himself and others at all times, when necessary. Several years later, Aaron and I developed our relationship as young men in Columbus, Ohio, while pursuing post high school education. He was a student at the Columbus College of Art and Design, pursuing a degree in Industrial Design and honing his talent as an artist. During this period, he mentored me through his philosophy and approach to everyday living: enjoy life, respect others, and be yourself no matter what. He spoke freely and always from the heart, most times punctuating what he said with a bah for emphasis. Back then, I thought Aaron worked relentlessly to ensure his projects were completed on schedule. It was not until many years later when I realized that this relentlessness was his passion for creativity. I remember being at a gathering in Columbus where everyone was dressed up for the occasion, and Aaron showed up in paint-stained jeans and a t-shirt. When someone questioned him about his “improper” attire, he simply and confidently told them that his presence was what mattered, and not what clothes he was wearing. All of this was happening while Aaron was grabbing food and drink and making light of being a struggling student. I guess what could have been perceived as insulting or demeaning was turned into “I am who I am so get over it.” Aaron believed everyone deserved a chance until proven otherwise. One of those chances was given to me when he graduated and decided to return to Liberia. Without any prior discussion, he simply asked me to take care of his new car until he got in touch with me. When I told him I could not afford the monthly payments, his response was that advanced payments had been made and he would decide later if he wanted to send for the car, sell it, or return it to the lender. A few months later, he instructed me to return the car to the lender; he had more purposeful things to do with his money in Liberia, like helping his father and siblings. Many years later, when Aaron felt threatened by individuals and events in Liberia, he returned to the States. While deciding where he would resettle and looking for employment opportunities, he took time to visit with me and my family on several occasions. During these times, we talked about many things; his priority was to get his children out of Ghana. Conversations with him at that time always came back to his children and how he could get them out of Ghana. Sending money was not enough. He contacted the INS, ICE, charitable organizations, politicians, and others in his attempt to get the children to the States to be with him. Surprisingly, when efforts to get the children out of Ghana materialized, he felt a calling in Liberia. In his words, he was returning to run for the presidency and care for his aging father. One evening, while talking with him about his plans for Liberia, he said he wanted me to come to Columbus for some of his pieces. When I asked about the prices, he scoffed at me and told me that when he had visited me, he was pleased to see his work hanging in my home, so he knew I would appreciate his work. Whatever I could afford would go to the “campaign.” Shortly after, I visited Aaron and took possession of a few pieces of his artwork. When a mutual friend called and told me about Aaron’s death, I was numb for days. I cried in the presence of my wife and son. I had lost a true friend, a brother, and mentor. During his memorial service in Columbus, I was pleased to hear tributes and stories about Aaron from others who knew him as well as I did. Aaron was always Aaron; we all used similar words to describe him . . . honest, selfless, teacher, simple, kind, artist, innovator, mentor, gifted, philosopher. And as I sat there and mourned, I felt privileged to have known him. I realized how rare it is to know a person like Aaron; one who was gifted, giving, and always consistent in character.        Copyright © Eugene Scott