Cub, Boy, Explorer Scouts Cub, Boy, Explorer ScoutsScouts to me was typical of much of my life. Start out full of
energy and find that the experience drains me. Each of the three
scout experiences followed the same paradigm. And it was all so
long ago that I can only recall bits and pieces.
I was in the Cub scouts. My mother was the den mother.
We played weekly games in the basement
or the back yard. Most mothers did
not work in our neighborhood.
Jack's mother worked.
Probably to afford the private school that Jack attended. Cub
Scouts were OK and better because my
mother was the leader. I do not
remember the pack meetings much. I
do remember that they were very structured and very boring. I learned
to hate metal chairs. The one useful thing that we did was to
go downtown Ypsilanti and visit the ladder company.
We learned what constituted a good ladder. We learned about why there is
a metal rod under each step. In those days all ladders were wood. Aluminum was not in the mix yet.
I got all three levels: Wolf, Bear, and Lion. Promotion was
automatic: each year you went up a notch. I got a few arrows
under each animal. There were always secrets. Groups I was
never in and never understood what they were or why I was not
there. In Cub Scouts, "WeBeLos" was always a mystery to me.
This is where I have the most memories both because of age and because of time spent.
Unlike Cub Scouts, grade promotion was by earning merits and not
automatic. You got a little card that had sections with items
under each section. When you got sufficient marks per section,
you got promoted. This was true of Tenderfoot and Second
Class. When you got to First Class, you got promoted on merit
badge count. 6 badges got you to Star. I think it was 10 that got
you to "Life" l. I guess I forgot the third level. I never
made it past First Class.
I remember two families involved in our troop. Both inspired
me to where I ended up. None of my close friends were in scouts.
He was our Explorer Post advisor / guru / whatever. He taught
me a lot. His brother Ned was one of the class bullies. I
was one of Ned's favorite targets. Somewhere else in these web
pages I mention Ned. Not positively and I do not remember Ned in
the scouts. Then there was Timmy.. He was a scout. He
was at least one year younger than me and took after his brother
Ned. I was Timmy's favorite target to bully. He had a
friend, Brad, and the two of them made a couple of years of my life,
mostly in scouts, very miserable. I respected Kenny and if it
were not for him, I would have written the entire Berg family off as as
evil. This was a lesson for me since I learned to treat people as
individuals as opposed to classing them. This lesson was never
really learned well but I earned to respect Kenny as an individual
while really hating his brothers.
Bob was one of those "Super" Boy Scouts. He earned all of the
badges. He went to that camp in New Mexico. His father was
one of the troop sponsors and appeared to be higher up in the
organization than just our troop. There was always the feeling
that the name Powell either made him special or he was one of the
descendants of the Boy Scout organization founders. It did not
matter to me except that I understood that my place in scout hierarchy
would never be higher than plebeian.
This was not a camp like Indian Mounds. This was more of a
place that the troop could reserve for various activities. There
was tent camping and a lake to swim. Since I was not a swimmer,
this was mostly one of those times that I avoided proctors.
But we went to the lodge for winter camping one time. Timmy
Berg and his friend Brad took every opportunity to beat up on me and
then hide behind Ken to prevent my restitution. Timmy hit me in
the shin with a board with a large rusty nail in it. The hole
became infected and caused me considerable pain for the next several
weeks as it never got properly treated. I still bear that scar in
my shin. None of my actions with Timmy were instigated by me.
On one of our weekend camps to Mauthe Lake, it rained and everything
was wet. This is a problem since Boy Scouts are supposed to
always be able to start a fire and there are always campfires. But this
weekend was different. Everything was so wet there was no chance
of a normal fire. The leaders came to me and told me that they
were going for a walk and it would be nice if there were a fire when
they returned. No questions asked. Why me? I always carried
a small jar of gasoline for just such a purpose. I always kept it
hidden and I never used it obnoxiously. I was just more motivated
to be warm and dry than most people I knew.. But on
this trip I had no such bottle. Why not? Because I expected that
on this trip I would be inspected and be reprimanded for having
it. But we did our best. We tried insect repellent.
we tried anything that we thought would work but no luck when the
leaders returned there were a few little embers of wet twigs but
nothing more.
This was the core activity for my Boy Scout experience.
I say this because it was the beginning and the end of my Boy Scout
career. I heard that the troop took hikes on the weekends.
I liked this idea. I liked hiking, organized or alone. This
badge was easy: 5 10-mile hikes and a 20-mile hike and you got the
badge. I went on every hike that they had as soon as I learned
this. A badge for just walking. Wow.
Remember this is Wisconsin and Scouts was primarily an activity
during the school year: WInter. Cold. Snow. I remember one
hike from Webster School to a campground where I strayed off of the
road on 124th street. This was a serious mistake. 124th was
a rural road. No curbs. No sidewalks. Just a gully on each side
of the road for water drainage. A real gully. No concrete.
Nothing. I stepped in and would have never been found again had
someone not seen me go down. We are talking about 8 feet or more
down. The plows had leveled the area so you knew to stay on the
tire tracks and I missed. I was pulled out and for the rest
of the hike (and other hikes) was more careful about where I stepped.
On these hikes we were expected to start a campfire and cook our
lunch. It was to be a hot lunch of meat, potatoes, and
vegetables. On the first hike I took my mess kit and a full
meal, I was the last to eat and finish. We were also
supposed to clean our utensils afterwards. The remaining hikes, I
took a can of beef stew and used the can opener on my Boy Scout
knife. I carried as I mentioned under Mauthe Lake, a small glass
jar of gasoline because our camping was usually in area with either wet
or snow-covered wood. The leaders did not like my gasoline and I
did not either but I was not about to go back without fulfilling the
hot meal requirements. Remember that in those days plastic was a
rarity. and you would not put gasoline in your canteen. The glass jar
was dangerous because if I sat down wrong, I would lose more than just
the jar contents. I might lose part of my rear end.
One one hike I was really tired. I finished my meal early, dug
an hole in the snow and fell asleep. I forget how they found me
but I would have eventually woken up by myself. Why a hole? Under
the snow is warmer than on top.
But here is the zinger. There was one and only one 20-mile
hike scheduled. The 10-mile hikes were 5 and 5. The 20-mile
was 10 and 10. This was not a problem. The problem was that
after this hike I was informed that the district guy was to be at the
next meeting to interview each of us who had been on the hikes to make
sure that we met the requirements for the badge. Included in
these requirements was a map of each hike including what was done about
the meal, wildlife observed, and anything else notable about the
hike. I had been on at least 8 10-mile hikes. For even the
20-mile hike I had no map. I just walked where the leader said to
walk. You know: "Follow The Leader".
So now I spent the meeting avoiding the interview. When asked,
I lied and said I had already been interviewed. Mr. Powell knew
how many had made the hikes and at the subsequent meeting passed out
the badges. I took mine. I had earned it. Mr. Powell
noted at the meeting that there was one person who had accepted the
badge more than had been interviewed. I had no doubt that he knew
who that person was. Me. But I walked the walk. If I
had been told anywhere along the line that I needed a map or
documentation, I would have had it. I was not going to give up my badge
just because no one told me the total requirements. I had asked a
leader before I went on any hikes and was told that I only needed the
hikes. I felt that my lie about the interview was less
significant than the lie that I needed to do more than just walk and
cook a meal.
Why all of these words about one little badge? Because this
badge circumscribed my entire Boy Scout career. I knew I would
never make Star because someone would know that I did not earn the
Hiking badge on my sleeve. Even if I got 6 other badge they would
take my hiking badge away. So no more badges. No more work for
requirements. Nothing. I attended solely to fulfill my
three years and get out.
I went here two years. The primary interests in Camp were to
earn merit badges and learn how to clean up your tent and clean up
meals. All day long there were activities scheduled so that you
could earn the merit badges that were difficult to obtain during the
school year. You had to keep you tent space clean for random
inspections. You were assigned kitchen duty for serving or
cleaning up.
The meals were terribly un-memorable. The only thing I
remember was a Kool-Ade substitute that was called bug juice.
Other than the name, it was also un-memorable.
My first year at Indian Mounds I worked really hard to make my
Second Class requirements as being a Tenderfoot was not
prestigious. I almost made First Class that same year.
The second year I was burned out by the time I got there.
Merit badges no longer held any interest to me. I spent most of
my time avoiding the proctors who were trying to schedule your time to
earn more badges. It would have been better for me to have not
gone.
I made it. I survived. No more scouts. I would not
become an Explorer. My last year as a Boy Scout was basic
survival. But if you made it, you graduated. There was a
ceremony. You got a nice knife. I knew my father would
never permit me to won a knife so I expected the graduation knife to be
my only opportunity to own a real knife. When we lined up for our
commencement, they announced that there would be no more knives.
Ever. Each of us was to receive our very own Explorer
Handbook. I was cheated. I cried. They could not stop
me. They tried. I did not ask for an exception and they
would not have made one: no knife for Chuck Kelly. Period. I kept
the handbook for a while to remind myself that life is not fair.
Then I tossed the handbook. Reminders like that I did not need.
I had sworn to never join Explorer Scouts. In my junior year,
the Explorers figured out that they were an anachronism. They had
always been sort of super Boy Scouts but their membership was falling
off. They came up with a new game. They decided that they
should have posts with a motive. Our city was one of the first to
try this. Maybe they tried other things in other cities. I
think they were desperate. In any case, in Wauwatosa they
organized posts by profession. I joined the Engineering
profession post. There were not a whole lot of us. I was
voted Vice President of the post for my Junior year. We had a
couple of inspired leaders and that year was interesting. We
visited many Milwaukee corporations. All I really remember are
the corporate tours. The sponsors were inspired and they inspired
myself and the others in the post.
I do not remember that the post survived my senior year. I
remember getting prodded by the sponsors but my plate was full and
there was no room for Explorers any more. I mean with my first
weeks of my senior year in the hospital and the next two years on
life-stealing anti-depressants and getting back with Mary Anne,
Explorers just sort of disappeared.
If I had had sons instead of daughters, scouts at any level would
have never been part of our lives. Many things have changed in
this world but to the best I can see 50 years later Boy Scouts have
become an anachronism at all 3 levels. I am sure there are people
who would argue but the concept is just wrong. First off, it is
sexist. Second off, it is semi-religious and has no business
getting public funding. Third off, by the time someone is old
enough to be a scout, there are now parts of their lives that are far
more interesting. If you do not have a computer and the Internet
for your 6-year-old, you are depriving him of an equal opportunity for
an education. And at 6 a boy is far more able to learn about his
world with his computer than he is from some group of semi-organized
parents who remember what it was like when they were kids.
I mention Timmy Berg in the above narrative. He put a hole in
my leg. Some time after this I went sledding with my sister
Jeanne, her friend "M", and a friend of mine. I forget who but it
was not one of the Scott's. Maybe Jeff. I had a crush on
"M". We went to the hill at Curry park. This was the most
popular sledding area around and it was park-sponsored. Two
areas: one for sleds and one for toboggans. We had sleds.
Timmy Berg and his friend Brad were there. They made my life
hell. They would intentionally sled into me and and beat on
me. For several hours. The last straw was when Timmy called
me a very vulgar name in front of my sister. I beat the shit out
of him. I mean I really beat him up. It was one of several
times when I permitted my manic to take over. I stopped hitting
him when I saw that my hand was covered with blood and I knew it was
not mine. After a manic episode, I was in a daze and just sat
there on top of Timmy. One of the Curry Park guards came over to
me and told me to leave quickly. I did this along with the 3
others. As we left, the police arrived as did the ambulance.
I mean the Curry Park guy could have held me to have me arrested but
he commented that I had survived the entire day of abuse and did
nothing until that fight and as far as he was concerned, Timmy deserved
what he got. I was in a daze most of the way home. I never
found out if I damaged Timmy. There was lots of blood so he
probably had a sore nose since when sledding everything else is well
covered.
I was attending Longfelllow Junior High at the time. Big
brother Ned sought me out and told me to keep my distance from
Timmy. I was happy that he did not make more of it than
that. Ken never mentioned it in Boy Scouts and I never heard from
Timmy again. Sometimes even a pacifist has to draw a line.
Beat up on me all you want but advertise it to my family and the line
is crossed.