L Scott Hancock

Tales From the High Lonesome L Scott Hancock

It was classic Scott Hancock. During one of my hundreds of lunch conversations with Scott in then undiscovered Sandpoint, Idaho, I asked him: "Why do you always carry a knife on your belt?" He quipped back in practical seriousness, "So, I can pop the goddamn airbag in my van if it goes off, so I don't die of suffocation." Scott is a Polio survivor. But that is the least of what he is. It just happens to mean he drives his van from a wheelchair. And being strapped into the van, in a chair and an airbag in your face is, as I learned, dangerous - unless you have a knife on your belt. For 30 years I have known Scott. We met in 1990 - in Idaho - when I was a newspaper journalist. He fondly just always calls me Scoop. I wrote about him because I saw him cruising through town on his motorcycle. He was driving it from the sidecar. A badass modification for his wheelchair. Everyone stared. That story led to a life-long friendship and to hundreds of other stories that were not all about him - but about his daily encounters with people, places, animals, the outdoors, politics, God. Even hats and an old cowboy everyone called By Golly. Scott never turns down a conversation, most often he starts them, with anyone. He's old fashioned that way. He has a gift. A gift to impart wisdom without you knowing. A gift to see the extraordinary in the every day. And a gift of the lost art of storytelling. It's enlightening to sit with Scott, as I and many others have, to hear his boisterous, exuberant voice while he fusses with his unruly mustache perched over a mischievous smile. But the next best thing is to read them. The stories in this book are true - yet almost unbelievable. They are touching. Funny. Thought-provoking. But mostly honest. Simply, Scott's encounters are about life and how we should all live it - wide open, foot on the gas. Scott is a unique, rare man. One of no bullshit, enormous depth, spiritual and philosophical. Yet he never comes across that way. He comes across as who he is. A coffee drinkin', real cowboy, and a gritty outdoorsman. His feet (and wheels) have been on more mountains, next to more rivers, and in more Idaho backcountry with bears, elk, and other critters than any outdoor guide. He can tell you as much about guns - because he's shot most of them - as he can about poetry and politics. He was a builder for years, architecting some masterpieces from a log home mansion to a one-of-a-kind pyramid house. Those are another story. He's talked to more regular Joes than the best glad-handing politician. He's got the quickest wit in the West. Yet is artful with his words. He's a highly opinionated, gentle soul. He inherently advocates for what's right. Yes, Scott is by definition a Renaissance man. I am better for having shared time with him. The stories are just a bonus. -Kevin Keating