Will the other Scott Beveridge please step forward

A sweet, mysterious letter arrived on my desk in the newsroom two weeks ago.

It was sent from a California, Pa., woman who was attempting to reunite me with more than a half-dozen photos of one Scott Beveridge as a boy posing for his next-door neighbor.

The problems are, the boy bears no resemblance to this Scott Beveridge, who has never lived in that town.

It’s strange because my name is not common, one that typically draws laughter from those who jot it down while I leave them with telephone messages to deliver.

Odder yet are the facts that California Borough is just a 10-minute drive from my house, this other Scott appears to be my age and I have never met nor heard from that dude.

There is no need to embarrass the 82-year-old author of the letter in public by naming her here because her intentions are admirable.

“I hope you are the one I’m looking for,” she stated in the letter. “I used to baby sit you for your mother Libby. I thought the world of her.”

She went on to instruct me to pitch the photos if she found the wrong Scott Beveridge.

Well the photos are too cute to just toss in the can, especially the one of farmer Scott wearing overalls. So if anyone knows where to find this cowboy, drop me an e-mail and I will pass them along.