He was born on Dec. 26, 1984, the son of the late Mary Tarkanic Scott and Ronald Scott.

Steve was a gentle giant, involved in demanding activities such as hockey and parachuting into forest fires for the U.S. Forest Service. He currently instructed younger trainees in those activities for the U.S. Job Corps.

He graduated from Ursuline High School with honors and from Ohio State University with degrees in philosophy and music.

His close friends say he never said anything bad about other people. He was a warm companion to adults, and a great friend of children as well as animals. The lives of many have been improved by his friendship. It is said that he encouraged self-worth, protecting one’s self, and planning for the future. He was quietly serious but also super spontaneous and led companions into fun activities.

A perceptive insight into his spirit is expressed by this tribute from his lifelong childhood friend, Alyssa Goist, with her permission:

“My heart – I have so many posts that start with that phrase that include Stephen in some way. Always after a great gathering, great convo, great company… where I walked away feeling filled up and inspired.

I avoided writing this post. It’s not one I ever imagined I’d have to write. But as I’ve talked to people the last two days, the memories and immeasurable stories and lives Steve affected has seemed to inspire. Maybe putting words out there will take away a little sadness, disbelief, anger, grief. As more time passes, the magnitude of this loss is hitting me. Life won’t be the same. So many little moments now seem so significant and are memories I’ll hold onto forever.

I’m not sure how you put 35 years of friendship into a post. Steve is a constant in my life. Even yesterday as texts came in, HE is someone I would have reached out to for reassurance or clarity. Even if he often didn’t respond for days lol, didn’t have service due to being in the woods/on a job/etc….he always did. He was truly fearless in his career and many of us thought of him as a hero, as humble as he was. I remember asking repeatedly ‘so you jump out of planes, like often, to fight the fire?’ ‘Yep! Want to see a video?’

He was the friend that made me feel like I could do anything. The friend that reminded me to live and appreciate the small things. The friend that never lost his cool, calmed me down many a time, thought no idea was too crazy, and took life in stride. My adventure friend. My friend that we could deep dive talking about the intricacies of the universe for hours at a time. The friend that everyone knew because he was always up for anything at any time.

“My friend Steve” met up too many times to count and made friends with whoever was there. He genuinely took an interest in and cared about people. His smile and spirit were contagious. He showed up.

Random spontaneous hikes, hole-in-the-wall-scary-on-the-outside bars, exploring old abandoned houses, roadtripping to a random house to pick up authentic mid-century or before things for his house, spending a day at antique stores in the middle of nowhere, bonfires, Rocky style workouts and cookouts in his backyard as teenagers, orchestras, independent theater, pizza at 3 a.m. at Ohio State…the list goes on.

He was often the driver growing up, me waiting patiently and the guys showing up 30 minutes after they said they would, 8th grade seating changes for to hopefully get him to be quiet…only resulting in me becoming a talker, Camp Fitch as counselors in high school and as students in 5th grade, school plays, random memories in the classroom, my mom connecting with his mom because we both hated changing for Kindergarten gym class and both were only children.

As I reflect on memories, more pop up.

Endless really.

Every significant moment he was a part of in some way.

What started as scared 5 year olds has grown through the years into hopeful and maybe wiser 39 year olds. I’m thankful that this friendship kept up through college and now long into adulthood. It evolved as the years have gone on, just like life has. Through tough times, breakups, sick parents, sick animals, help with a house or fit-it task, he was there. He was so excited to see my Gram’s house and the authentic things in it and share “old house” journeys. I was excited to soon celebrate 40th birthdays.

This is a significant loss for so many. He affected many lives and is a part of core memories for so many people. He was supposed to be around forever. Untouchable in my eyes. The strongest and most physically capable person I knew. I fully expected that he’d be someone to call up as 80 year olds to talk about life or gather together. I can’t wrap around that not being a possibility. It blows my mind that I’m even writing this in the past tense.

My heart hurts. But I also feel inspired and gut-punched. True of Steve. True of how I felt many times after talking with him.

Gut check to live. Hold nothing back. Chill and go with the flow. Notice the little things. Smile. Add value to people. Have fun. Play music. Dance a little. Love on your people. Stand strong for family…and everyone. Show up.

This is one of those happenings that you know life will never be the same. I’m not sure what it entirely looks like yet, but I’m prepared to keep his memory and legacy alive, and my why has been set on fire to truly live this life we’re given.”

Stephen is survived by his father, Ronald Scott, and special friend, Andrea Welsch.

Services have taken place.

(special notice)