Scott Reed Moses

Scott Reed Moses, a beloved son, cousin, husband, friend, and storyteller, passed away peacefully on January 20, 2026, in Centralia, Washington, at the age of 68.

Born in Seattle to Kenneth and Shirley Moses, Scott grew up surrounded by music—though he quickly discovered that while music ran in the family, it was not his calling. Instead, Scott found his rhythm in engines, tools, the outdoors, and the simple joy of working with his hands.

Scott spent much of his life throughout Western Washington, with his heart firmly planted on the Olympic Peninsula in places like Port Ludlow, Kingston, and Chimacum. He attended grade school in Lynnwood and high school in Bothell, but some of his most cherished memories were made with his grandparents and his Uncle Bill. Scott was especially proud of his grandfather, Curtiss Moses, who inspected the Space Needle for structural integrity before its grand opening. A treasured family photo captures young Scott standing beside his grandfather at the ribbon cutting—an image Scott spoke of with pride throughout his life.

He also deeply treasured his Uncle Billy. Scott would talk and laugh for hours about the adventures, mischief, and special moments they shared when he was a child and young man. Those stories were told again and again over the years, always with the same sparkle in his eyes and laughter in his voice. Later in life, Scott and his Uncle Bill continued that tradition—spending time together reminiscing and laughing just as hard about those cherished memories as they had when they were first made.

At just 17 years old, Scott enlisted in the U.S. Army and completed two tours in Vietnam, demonstrating a quiet strength and deep sense of duty that remained part of who he was.

In 2004, Scott married Sheila Marie Everett, the love of his life, and together they built a home in Chimacum. Scott would tell anyone who would listen that nothing in the world could beat Sheila’s meatloaf—and he meant it.

Scott had a gift for making people laugh. His unique, contagious laugh often had others laughing right along with him before they even knew why. He loved the outdoors, unfazed by rain or cold, and could almost always be found outside fixing, building, tinkering, or fishing. He had a lifelong love of cars and mechanics, eventually attending diesel mechanic school and becoming a heavy equipment mechanic—first for others, and later as a self-employed businessman.

He loved the beach, the river, good fishing spots, and good food. Scott was especially devoted to Mexican and Chinese cuisine, making special trips just for seafood enchiladas, chimichangas, margaritas, or his favorite Chinese restaurant in Sequim. He also took great pride in barbequing a thick ribeye steak on his charcoal briquette grill. Scott would use propane only if he absolutely had to—because in his opinion, nothing compared to the taste of a steak grilled over real charcoal. Life, in Scott’s eyes, was meant to be enjoyed.

In later years, Scott shared many adventures with his cousin Barbie—sneaking off to the river to fish, road-tripping around the peninsula, enjoying time in Yakima, and never passing up the chance for good food and better conversation. Those memories will forever be treasured.

Scott also held deep affection for animals and often spoke fondly of the Rottweiler he adored as a child. He loved 70’s rock music, the soundtracks of his youth echoing through garages, workshops, and road trips alike.

Scott and his cousin Mark represent the 15th generation of male Moses men born on American soil—a remarkable family legacy that ends with them.

Scott was preceded in death by his beloved wife Sheila, his parents Kenneth and Shirley Moses, and his uncles Leonard and Robert Moses. He is survived by his uncle William Moses of Show Low, Arizona; stepchildren Ashley Everett of Marysville, Washington, and Brandon Everett of Everett, Washington; and many cousins who will continue to carry his stories, laughter, and spirit forward.

Scott will be remembered for his humor, his loyalty, his love of simple pleasures, and the way he made ordinary moments feel special just by being there.