Long-time Rotarian, Dr. Don Scholz passed away on January 9. Don was an active 41-year member of The Rotary Club of Rochester. His obituary can be read here.Steve Lange, Rochester Magazine editor, shared a couple of stories from past interviews with Don. The following is text shared from Steve's Oddchester column.
Don Scholz — a top endocrinologist, keen gardener, accomplished photographer, amateur actor, Mayo Clinic historian, Gonda singer, peregrine falcon caretaker, charter member of the ROMEOs ("Retired Old Men Eating Out," who meet at the Charter House dining room) -- died last week.
Just a few months shy of his 100th birthday.
Here are two of our favorite stories from Don, who was a good friend of Rochester Magazine.
Both center around Don's wife of 66 years, Georgia, who died in 2013 after spending her last decade in the Support Care Unit of the Charter House.
The first story, set in 1945, is the moment Don met the love of his life. The second story is set just before she died. It was one of the last times he would spend with her.
The love of his life: "There's my wife-to-be, Georgia, at the piano."
"Here's a moment that changed my life. Saturday night, 1945. I was a Cleveland City Hospital intern working the psych ward and one of the docs says 'Why don't we get a poker game?' I was making $25 a month. I told him that I never won. But I played.
"Well, luck be a lady tonight! I was playing and making a few bucks. ... About 10 p.m. I go to visit those patients, and I hear someone playing the piano beautifully, 'Claire De Lune.' Boy, does that person know how to tickle the ivories! The number finishes and there's my wife-to-be, Georgia, at the piano. Oh, Georgia! She was taking care of patients, and it turns out she only lived 15 miles from me. We got married in '47 after she got her nursing degree."
Dancing with memories: "Oh, my wife and I love to dance."
"Oh, my wife and I love to dance. When we first got married, we'd save up a few bucks and go to a juke joint and buy a burger and fries and dance the night away. After we had kids we'd dance in our basement.
"Today, Georgia lives downstairs (in the Charter House's Support Care Unit). She still recognizes me. I'll walk in, she'll be sitting in her wheelchair. Then I say 'I'd love to take you out dancing. Somebody told me you're a damn good dancer.' She smiles at me and gives me a little blink of her eyes. Her head bobs up and down. I put on the Andrews Sisters, Frankie Sinatra ...
"She can't walk, but she dances in her wheelchair. She'll take my hand and by gosh she follows me when I lead. She follows me perfect, just like she always did. Once in a while I'll screw up on purpose, I'll get out of rhythm, and she just freezes as if to say 'You know it doesn't go like that.' Oh, she knows. The nurses say they've never seen anything like it. It's amazing. ... I'm so thankful for those moments."