Fight with the radiant certainty and the absolute rectitude of knowing that yours is the morality of life and yours is the battle for any achievement, any value, any grandeur, any goodness, any joy that has ever existed on this earth. --Ayn Rand
Scouting is filled with memorable events. Summer camp, canoe trips, Pinewood Derby, National Jamboree, Philmont, Appalachian trail hikes, whatever it is, we want to remember it. There are pictures, of course, but beyond photography, Scouts look for other ways to remember.
Our Scoutmaster Emeritus, the man who founded the Troop I have been affiliated with as an adult Scouter, has collections of stuff. Pins, patches, T-shirts, and coffee mugs. In the Scout hut he put up shelves in what was his office. A few Army mugs, one from the 82nd Airborne in the center, and then rows of mugs from OA, summer camps, and Jamborees.
He also has T-shirts, a footlocker full of T-shirts. All celebrating events long past, decades of summer camps, National and World Jamborees, and Wood Badge courses over the years. With hundreds of hat pins and patches to match.
I always bought the T-shirts when I went to an event, but I wore them, in some cases I wore them to rags. I have only a few now, most of them have been retired. What I mostly have are patches. Here's the ones I'm currently displaying on my uniform. Summer camp 1968 was the first one. I kept every one I ever got. I sewed some of them on a red wool jac-shirt when I was a Scout, but they have been recovered from that. All the recent ones (the ones in the last 20 years) look new. They are all different, and yet all the same. All of them have a Scout fleur-de-lis, most of them are round, 3 inches in diameter, and have the name of the event and the year.
If you asked me about some of the events, I might not be able to tell you anything, but the patches jog my memory. The art work and the colors somehow serve to anchor the event, and I can remember what we did, sometimes what we ate and how the weather was. They are worthless to anyone else and when I am gone, there will be no one to remember so their meaning will disappear.
Summer camp always ended with a campfire on Friday night. When I was the leader in camp, after dinner on Friday, I would gather the Troop in uniform in the campsite. I would have them form by Patrols, give a stack of summer camp patches to the Senior Patrol Leader and say, "The SPL has your summer camp patches, and he will be handing them out in a minute. You all did well this week, and I am proud to say I am your Scoutmaster. Remember these days in the woods, because this camp is unique. This exact group of people will never camp together again, someone will move or leave the Troop, and new Scouts will join in the fall. Remember who we were, what we did, and what it meant to you. Sometime, years from now, you will find this patch in a drawer or a box, and I want you to pick it up, and think back to this week, this camp. Let your patch serve as a reminder of these days."
To understand a man, you must know his memories. --Anthony Quayle
In every endeavor or field of study there is humor. Pilots, surgeons, even combat soldiers all have inside jokes that make sense only to them. Scouters are no different. Because you are outside the norm as a Scouter. Camping every month, learning to do interesting and arcane things with rope and sticks, cooking on open fires, dressing up like a Boy Scout, and trying to set the example to a Troop of Scouts with your behavior and spirit. We must look like we could benefit from cult deprogramming.
Here's one list based on the old "You might be a Scouter if..." I'm not going to list them here, but some of them are funny while others are just true.
Another site, put up by Troop 88 has things like the Top Ten Signs You're in a Bad Troop, and Top Ten Signs You're at a Bad Summer Camp.
Then there is the "letter from camp". I had seen it years ago, and found it on a site called the Retired Scouter:
Dear Mom,
Our Scout Leader told us all write to our parents in case you saw the flood on TV and worried.
We are OK. Only 1 of our tents and 2 sleeping bags got washed away. Luckily, none of us got drowned because we were all up on the mountain looking for Justin when it happened. Oh yes, please call Justin's mother and tell her he is OK. He can't write because of the cast. I got to ride in one of the search & rescue jeeps. It was neat. We never would have found him in the dark if it hadn't been for the lightning.
Scout Leader Phil got mad at Alex for going on a hike alone without telling anyone. Alex said he did tell him, but it was during the fire so he probably didn't hear him. Did you know that if you put gas on a fire, the gas can will blow up? The wet wood still didn't burn, but one of our tents did. Also some of our clothes. Phil is going to look weird until his hair grows back.
We will be home on Saturday if Scout Leader Rich gets the car fixed. It wasn't his fault about the wreck. The brakes worked OK when we left. Scout Leader Rich said that with a car that old you have to expect something to break down; that's probably why he can't get insurance on it. We think it's a neat car. He doesn't care if we get it dirty, and if it's hot, sometimes he lets us ride on the tailgate. It gets pretty hot with 10 people in a car. He let us take turns riding in the trailer until the highway patrolman stopped and talked to us.
Scout Leader Rich is a neat guy. Don't worry, he is a good driver. In fact, he is teaching Tim how to drive. But he only lets him drive on the mountain roads where there isn't any traffic. All we ever see up there are logging trucks.
This morning all of the guys were diving off the rocks and swimming out in the lake. Scout Leader Phil wouldn't let me because I can't swim and Justin was afraid he would sink because of his cast, so he let us take the canoe across the lake. It was great. You can still see some of the trees under the water from the flood. Scout Leader Phil isn't crabby like some scout leaders. He didn't even get mad about the life jackets.
Scout Leader Rich has to spend a lot of time working on the car so we are trying not to cause him any trouble. Guess what? We have all passed our first aid merit badges. When Daniel dove in the lake and cut his arm, we got to see how a tourniquet works. Also Dylan and I threw up. Scout leader Rich said it probably was just food poisoning from the leftover chicken, he said they got sick that way with the food they ate in prison. I'm so glad he got out and become a scout leader. He said he sure figured out how to get things done better while he was doing his time.
I have to go now. We are going into town to mail our letters and buy more ammo and fireworks. Don't worry about anything. Scout Leader Phil said the weather is going to be really hot and dry now. We are fine.
Love, Timmy
If I had no sense of humor, I would long ago have committed suicide. --Mahatma Gandhi
Scouts like fire. That's too much of an understatement. Scouts are drawn to fire like iron filings to a magnet. They gather around it. They throw things in it. They poke it with sticks, then pull the sticks out and wave them around. They want to make the fire bigger. Much bigger. If Scouts had chain saws, every campfire would look like the Aggie bonfire at Texas A&M.
I have concluded this is a natural behavior and all Scouts display it. It must be tempered, however, or a Patrol can get completely out of control.
So Scouts have rules. No flammable liquids of any kind may be used. Fire only in designated fire rings or preapproved pits. A fire the correct size for the task, small cooking fires, larger troop campfires, no bonfires. No playing with fire. Once a stick is in the fire, it stays there. No waving burning marshmallows around. And nothing like this: Most Scouts test these boundaries. Some test you more than others. I have been Scouting, camping, and working with campers off and on for forty years. There had to be one that was the worst, didn't there? The one that would have made that fire in the video if he could have. The one that would not follow the rules, the one that only stopped when directly threatened with expulsion from the Troop.
It was just after taps. I was sitting with the other leaders and I could see light behind the tents, flickering light. One of the dads noticed it and commented that they were in the woods with flashlights.
"I don't think so. That's fire, " I said as I got up. Motioning the others for quiet, we moved along the tents. I knew who it was before I ever got there. I wasn't fully prepared for what I found. He was crouched behind a tent watching his creation. In the 18 inches between the back of his tent and the high brush that bordered the open campsite sat a burning tennis ball. With a wick.
I took the fire bucket from in front of the tent and doused it. Left the can upside down over the ball until it cooled. The Scout was standing there so I asked him, "What were you thinking?'
"I dunno."
"What did you soak it in?"
"Lighter fluid and bug spray."
"What did you think was going to happen?"
"I thought it might blow up."
Sometimes the answers, honest as they are, just overwhelm you. In the leaf litter, up against the dry brush, a foot from the tent, and he did it hoping it would blow up. It did not, and so we were not having to abandon all the tents and retreat with the Scouts to the lake while camp burned before us.
His dad was there and I thought he might blow up. I tugged the dad away and we had a short conversation. I prevailed, using the logic that if it had been my son, one of the other leader would have worked the issue. So, dealing with this Scout was my responsibility.
I sent the Scout to his tent, told him to come see me after breakfast. Time and sleep would give me perspective, or at least some calm, and my decision making would be better.
In the morning, I sat down with the Scout. I gave him the handbook, and a couple of merit badge books, Fire Safety and Safety. I told him to make a list of all the rules about fire that the could find in the books, and write one page about the event, and I would come back when he was done. Then I went over and sat down with the Dad. I extracted a promise from him that whatever action I took would be the end of it. That because it happened in Scouts, it stayed in Scouts. He gave me his word.
When the Scout had finished, and I came back and read what he had written, one obvious thing stood out. "You know what I think?" I asked as I read down the list of 9 or 10 rules he had gleaned out of the books, "I think if you had followed any one, just one of these rules, you wouldn't have done what you did."
I explained to that Scout in no uncertain terms how close it was, how it could have been a major fire. It was the only time I ever told a Scout that any further misbehavior in this area would result in my bringing him, with his parents, before the Troop Committee and recommending that he be expelled. I had found my limit. To my knowledge, he got it. He never tested my resolve.
Two years later, as I addressed the Troop and their families, I asked his Dad to come forward, "On this, the day we celebrate your son achieving the rank of Eagle, I want to present you with something, as a memento of your time in the Troop."
I presented him with that tennis ball, set in a clear glass jar. Burnt mostly black, the remains of the wick still poking out, it symbolized to both of us the journey we had taken together. We stood there and laughed, and someone took our picture, like I was giving him an award. Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it. --Proverbs 22:6
All these Scouting posts are really like reaching into a seabag full of memories and grabbing one, pulling it out and taking a look at it. 3 Boxes of B.S. has a picture posted, and I will use that as a starting point today. Scouting Vespers is the name of a short song, usually sung to close a campfire. The name comes from an old word for the evening prayers of the Catholic Church. Sung to the tune Tannenbaum, the lyrics go like this:
Softly falls the light of day, While our campfire fades away. Silently each scout should ask: "Have I done my daily task? Have I kept my honor bright? Can I guiltless sleep tonight? Have I done and have I dared Everything to be prepared?
A simple closing, no grand religious theories, no particular creed mentioned. A series of four questions, to be considered by each Scout in his own way, against the standards he sets for himself.
Have I, today, lived out the Oath and Law? Have I lived this day with honor? Can I lay down content with my thoughts and behavior, with how I treated others? Have I done all I could to be prepared for tomorrow, whatever it might bring?
These are not just ideals for Boy Scouts, these are questions all of us might do well to ask ourselves every evening. Day to day, I will not pretend that I live up to this simple standard.
Ceremony and symbolism is important in our lives. Solemn funerals, joyous weddings, or a church decorated for a Christmas service all evoke different emotions and enrich the events. So too, a circle of Scouts and Scouters standing around a campfire, their hands raised over the embers, singing Scouting Vespers, serves to give substance to the words. We always closed our campfires with Vespers, then left the circle in silence.
No amount of ability is of the slightest avail without honor. --Andrew Carnegie
The Mile Swim is not a merit badge, it isn't worn on the uniform. It is a small patch, to be sewn on the swimming suit. Something to do at summer camp usually, an extra for an older Scout who is a strong swimmer.
The border of the buddy tag is broken out into sections, designed to be colored in if the Scout swims that far. I have never seen the edge colored in except when the whole mile is done, and then it always colored in with black, so the tag stands out on the buddy board. You had to have 4 hours of swimming prep time, usually done with an early morning swim every day at camp. This weeded out the posers, because you had to get up early, get to the waterfront by 0700, and swim for an hour, then race back, change and join the Troop at the morning flag ceremony in front of the chowhall.
If you got up every morning and made the swim, you got to attempt the mile on Friday. Where I camped as a Scout, there were three guard towers and three "H" docks at different points around the lake. The mile swim was done by making the triangle between them. Starting at the Area 3 swimmer's area, you moved out beyond the ropes, swam across to area 1, then turned inside the ropes and swam a longer leg to Area 2. Ducking under those ropes, you then turned on the longest leg, along the marshy section back to your starting point at Area 3. Never resting, never touching the boat or the bottom, you didn't have to go fast, but you had to keep swimming.
The swim was made behind a rowboat, so if you failed, there was a tow back to shore. It was so different out beyond the docks and the floating platforms, swimming alone out into the lake. A mile is a long enough distance that you tire, switch strokes to conserve some energy. I would use the sidestroke out along the long distances because it's easy to glide and breathe. The sound of the oars creaking and thumping set a rhythm. Time seemed to stretch out, there was only the lake, the receding back of the rowboat and the sky.
Finally you pass back under the ropes where you started. You climb out and walk down the dock to the tower. The Staff member looks at you, shakes your hand, and fills out the card for you to give your Scoutmaster. More importantly, he goes over to the buddy board and takes your tag down and colors the border with a black marker.
At the end of the week, after the last free swim period, I took my tag with me. 40 years later, that paper tag sits in a box with the rest of my Scout awards, a set of chevrons from each rank I held in the Marine Corps, and the rest of the mementos I have accumulated and can't quite bring myself to throw away. Not a merit badge, but still a goal faced and achieved by a young Scout, and remembered by an old man with pleasure and pride.
It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves. --Edmund Hillary
Let's all of us get behind the President and Congress on health care. I am willing to support Obamacare for everyone. Everyone, starting with Congress and the President. Whatever health care plan we get, they get. Ya know, healthcare of the people, by the people, for the people. Just to be fair.
A leader is a dealer in hope. --Napoleon Bonaparte
The Scouting posts began with a post I put up about camping with my wife in June 2009. If you are visiting to read them, that post, and the one comment it received, opens the door. You can use the archives and read up from there. It is not the only thing I have been writing about, but there are many Scouting related stories there, and many more to come.
I welcome you, Scouts, and Scouters, and hope you find the humor, love, and honor I am trying to put into the posts. Perhaps you will see yourself and your Troop and the country we grew up in through my words.
Yours In Scouting, ASM826
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ASM826
Husband, father, conservative, libertarian, Marine. I took an Oath once, to defend the Constitution, and I don't remember being released from it.
It was so different out beyond the docks and the floating platforms, swimming alone out into the lake. A mile is a long enough distance that you tire, switch strokes to conserve some energy. I would use the sidestroke out along the long distances because it's easy to glide and breathe. The sound of the oars creaking and thumping set a rhythm. Time seemed to stretch out, there was only the lake, the receding back of the rowboat and the sky. 
