By Ron P. Coderre
I initially met Joan Scraba when I was a seventh grade student at St. Mary School.  At the time I was proud to know her, but looking back, I was probably just another kid to her.
The time was the spring of 1954, she was a 21-year-old, first-time mother and I was a basketball player for the St. Mary’s Crusaders coached by Joan’s husband Stanley Scraba.  The occasion was a spaghetti dinner at their apartment on Livery Street (pre-Flood of 1955) in honor of the team.
Despite the newborn baby, Susan Scraba, who had just been brought home from the hospital, Joan and Coach Scraba were hosting seven junior high school players as a reward for the recently completed season.  As I recall, the spaghetti dinner was plentiful and delicious and went off without a hitch.
Over the years I came to know Joan Scraba much better.  Everything she did in life, she did just like the spaghetti dinner.  No problem.  No obstacles.  Joan Scraba was a humble person, always with a smile and a welcoming hello, whatever the situation.
Sadly the news of Joan Scraba’s death in Stuart, Fla., on Sunday, February 8 reached Putnam.  It was shocking to those of us who knew and appreciated her. 
The memories of accompanying a gang of developmentally disabled teens and adults from the Dempsey Center to the Scraba cottage on Lake Alexander were just like the spaghetti dinner.  Joan was waiting, smile on her face, sandwiches piled high waiting to be devoured, swimming area roped off and no matter how boisterous or noisy the group, the ever-present smile was there.
As I moved on to adulthood our relationship changed but Joan never did.  Whether it was walking into the Delaney or Archambault Insurance agencies as an alderman, Joan Scraba was pleasant and always had time an interest in the kid who played for St. Mary’s and was at the spaghetti dinner.
Later in life, my phone would ring and it would be Stan and Joan Scraba calling from Florida or the lake, just to talk.  Positive and upbeat the conversation would always end with the pair saying, “Say hello to your sister Dee and tell Donna we said hi.”  Dee and the Scrabas became friends when she toured them through the Pentagon, a deed they never forgot.
Joan Scraba like many other s had her down moments in life.  She lost her eldest son Stanley Thomas in a tragic automobile accident.  Although I’m certain she hurt inside, she maintained her positive upbeat nature.  The loss of her husband in 2013 was surely heart breaking for her and probably partly to blame for her demise.
She was proud in a non-boastful way of her children, Susan and Paula, who forged exemplary careers in education and Mark, Christopher and Sean, who like their dad are proud military men.  But despite all the things she had to be proud of, with Joan Scraba it was always about you and your family.
She was a great wife, mother, grandmother, employee and even a public servant.  It was however, never for her benefit.  It was always about helping her family and helping others.  There will never be a statue in the square of Joan Scraba but those who knew her will have a portrait of her etched in their minds that will remind them of a good woman and citizen.
 
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