We are an Atlanta, Georgia based foundation supporting organizations that care for and cure children with cancer

I first met Scott in Calhoun, Georgia, in December 1993, after I’d agreed to join Mohawk Industries’ National Accounts team at the start of the following year. My new boss took me around the building and introduced me to everyone there. Upstairs, in some cubicles that had been set up in an old showroom, I thought I met Scott “Michigan,” who was hard at work in the marketing department. I can still vividly remember our first handshake; Scott struck me as such a genuine and classy individual right from the start.

Then working under Andy Hogan, who would later become a very close friend and business partner, Scott was known as one of the brightest, nicest, most industrious and humblest members of the Mohawk Industries corporate team. His father, Sandy Mishkin, was one of the first people in the industry I had the task of making a sales call on. Sandy was the president of Carpet One, one of the most powerful players in the floor covering retail landscape. In large part due to the way Scott carried himself, it took me the better part of a month to figure out that Sandy was his father – and that his last name was not “Michigan” after all.

We had a lot of fun working together back then – long but rewarding hours in the office, a couple of championships on the flag football field, several pickup games on the basketball court (he was a very talented player with great court presence and a steady frame of mind), a few morning jogs before industry events and the occasional adult beverage. No matter the circumstance, it was always a pleasure to be in the company of Scott Mishkin.

Less than five years after we met, Scott was diagnosed with Desmoplastic Small Round Cell Tumor (DSRCT), and the world changed. We went from somewhere between good acquaintances and casual friends to committed allies and close friends in his ensuing battle with cancer.

Jay Kopelson, Scott’s best friend and a great friend of mine who I jokingly referred to as Scott’s second wife after the diagnosis, spoke with Scott several times a day. Andy spoke with him about once a day, and was Scott’s voice of reason. And, usually upon Andy’s cue, I would talk to Scott somewhere between once and twice a week. Andy would carefully select the right times for me to call, as I played the positive-mental-attitude role in our group of three.

As Scott’s cancer advanced, he was forced to give up sports like basketball and tennis – he was also a fantastic tennis player – and picked up golf anew. Though he never mastered the sport, he surely did love it. The last nine holes I played with him (18 was very difficult for Scott to get through) was on October 27, 2000, at Marietta City Club, and we had a great time out there with Jay Kopelson and our good friend Sam O’Krent. The next day we played the 6th Annual All Hallows Eve Cabernet Golf Classic and we gave Scott an Honorary Chairman Award in front of the group. Since he could no longer work full time by then, he worked as hard as he could to help us up that event together. From the look on his face, you would have thought he’d just been cured and won the mega lottery in the same moment.

Only 81 days later, early in the morning of January 17, 2001, Scott’s courageous and inspirational battle with DSRCT came to an end. But his positive example – and the incredible influence he has had on countless people – left behind the seeds of a legacy. His beautiful daughter, Laurel, was only three years old, and it is a hope of mine that his legacy will continue growing over time into something that might give her some measure of the kind of man her father was. I hope that when Laurel is 23 she will see many wonderful deeds done in the name and honor of her father through The Scotty Foundation and be proud of what her father started.

About three weeks before we lost Scott, he and I had a nice conversation in his basement about his “peer group.” There were only about 200 known DSRCT cases in the country when he was diagnosed, and since DSRCT is both a rare and pediatric cancer this group consisted of mere children who were fighting the same disease as Scott. So over the 2 ¼ years he fought his fight, the hardest part – and what most powerfully put it into perspective – was losing many of these young friends along the way. This perspective was gripping; I never once recall Scott complaining about his cancer for even a brief moment.

About a week before Scott passed away, Jay Smith, another good friend and business partner of mine, and I went to Scott’s house for a visit. By then, he was under the influence of so much pain medication that for the most part he’d become non-responsive. Jay and I sat there on the side of his bed with him for about an hour anyway, talking back and forth about all of the good and fun times. Remarkably – literally out of nowhere – toward the end of that hour Scott pushed himself halfway up from the bed, looked me right in the eyes, smiled and grabbed and squeezed my forearm. It would turn out to be our last handshake, but in many ways it was no different and certainly no less genuine than our first.

I can’t imagine what Scott’s reaction would be to see that the golf event has been renamed for him, that two foundations have now been formed in his name and honor and the fantastic plans we have for the future. His example over his 27-month battle with DSRCT was the sole catalyst for what is now The Scotty Foundation, and I only hope that the legacy we are building in his stead would have made him proud.

- Dave Gheesling (April 2007)