Badges? We don't Need no Stinking Badges.....
Posted by Zoe's Dad at Saturday, June 09, 2007 9:54 PM and is filed under smores,shooting stars,camfires 
Three merit badges. Three. That's all that stood between me and the illustrious rank of Eagle Scout. Citizenship in the Community. Citizenship in the Nation. Citizenship in the World. Wow! I knew at the ripe old age of twelve years old that I would never be a leader. Hell, I really wasn't much of a follower either. I just couldn't seem to pull enough focus to string together the last three merit badges. By the time I hit Junior High School after-school sports and my out of control hormones pretty much derailed my scouting career.
Regrets? Maybe a few. I suppose Eagle Scout would have looked good on a resume. But I did learn a lot from scouting, lessons I find myself passing on to my kids today. I'll never forget the first merit badge I earned. Camping.
Look closely at the tent in the picture. My first tent was exactly like that. Standard Army issue green canvas, two halves that snapped together, wooden poles, no floor and it weighed about 15 pounds. My uncle was a supply guy in the National Guard and got me outfitted. The sleeping bag was a classic. Goose down mummy bag. You could break a sweat in the bag if the temperatures even dared to rise above 10 or 15 degrees. Problem was, I grew up in Louisiana and we camped in the summer, 95 degrees with 95 per cent humidity. The sleeping bag was almost as worthless as the tent. But I loved them both.
I still remember our first camp out. Deep into the tick and misquito infested woods of the Kisatchie National Forest we set camp in what we felt was a perfect oasis, right on the side of a hill. It rained. Hard. Really hard. What we thought was a nice, clear trail was in all actuality the run-off path of every single drop of water that fell on the side of that hill. In a matter of minutes a veritable river was flowing through our tent.
Like any good scout, we tried to dig a moat around the tent to divert the water. We, however, were not good scouts and our moat soon became a resevoir so that the flowing water would have a nice spot to pool, i.e. the bottom of our tent. After what seemed hours of battling the elements we threw in the towels and trudged back up to the parking lot soaked to the bone, muddy, tired and starving (all of our food was soaked) we gave in to fatigue and caught a grand total of 25 minutes sleeping in the van. God, I miss those days!!
Flash forward 30 some odd years. Before school was even out, my kids were hitting me up to set up the tent and let's have a campout. I love camping, I really do. Sharing that joy with my kids only makes it better. Camping out opens a well of memories that I hold very dear and I only hope that I am able to impart some of that love to my children.
So we set up the tent. It's not a very expensive one, a Wal-Mart special, but it's roomy, sleeps 8 and fairly weather resistant. As the kids were scurrying all over the house gathering their sleeping bags and pillows, I spent a few minutes blowing up the air mattresses. Yes, that was a plural. Last year I used just one for the kids and I roughed it by sleeping on the ground. Big mistake. By morning I felt I had been run over by a truck. My back was in knots for four days. Never again. Kids get an air mattress--Dad gets an air mattress.
The kids then set out to gather firewood as I had promised them we would make smores. Surprisingly, they did very well and in a matter of minutes they had collected enough wood for a fire that would last easily about three hours.
The sheer excitement of a kid roasting a marsh mellow over a campfire is truly something to behold. They really could care less about eating them. It was all about the process. Throwing wood on the fire, selecting the perfect roasting stick, positioning their chairs in just the right spot so the smoke wouldn't blow in their eyes. In no time they were little marsh mellow roasting experts.
We finally made the move to the tent around midnight. With the rain fly removed, the entire night sky is visible as the roof of the tent is total screen. It could not have been a more perfect night for camping. Not a cloud in the sky and the stars were out in full force. I lay there gazing at the heavens above and muttered a little silent prayer of gratitude that I could be entrusted with such the responsibility and privilege of sharing such joy with such wonderful children. No lie, no sooner had I finished than a shooting star split the sky above.
I can't get my wife to go camping with us. She has her reasons and they are all pretty valid. However, I like my son's argument, "Mom, you're just not doing it properly."
Regrets? Maybe a few. I suppose Eagle Scout would have looked good on a resume. But I did learn a lot from scouting, lessons I find myself passing on to my kids today. I'll never forget the first merit badge I earned. Camping.
Look closely at the tent in the picture. My first tent was exactly like that. Standard Army issue green canvas, two halves that snapped together, wooden poles, no floor and it weighed about 15 pounds. My uncle was a supply guy in the National Guard and got me outfitted. The sleeping bag was a classic. Goose down mummy bag. You could break a sweat in the bag if the temperatures even dared to rise above 10 or 15 degrees. Problem was, I grew up in Louisiana and we camped in the summer, 95 degrees with 95 per cent humidity. The sleeping bag was almost as worthless as the tent. But I loved them both.I still remember our first camp out. Deep into the tick and misquito infested woods of the Kisatchie National Forest we set camp in what we felt was a perfect oasis, right on the side of a hill. It rained. Hard. Really hard. What we thought was a nice, clear trail was in all actuality the run-off path of every single drop of water that fell on the side of that hill. In a matter of minutes a veritable river was flowing through our tent.
Like any good scout, we tried to dig a moat around the tent to divert the water. We, however, were not good scouts and our moat soon became a resevoir so that the flowing water would have a nice spot to pool, i.e. the bottom of our tent. After what seemed hours of battling the elements we threw in the towels and trudged back up to the parking lot soaked to the bone, muddy, tired and starving (all of our food was soaked) we gave in to fatigue and caught a grand total of 25 minutes sleeping in the van. God, I miss those days!!
Flash forward 30 some odd years. Before school was even out, my kids were hitting me up to set up the tent and let's have a campout. I love camping, I really do. Sharing that joy with my kids only makes it better. Camping out opens a well of memories that I hold very dear and I only hope that I am able to impart some of that love to my children.
So we set up the tent. It's not a very expensive one, a Wal-Mart special, but it's roomy, sleeps 8 and fairly weather resistant. As the kids were scurrying all over the house gathering their sleeping bags and pillows, I spent a few minutes blowing up the air mattresses. Yes, that was a plural. Last year I used just one for the kids and I roughed it by sleeping on the ground. Big mistake. By morning I felt I had been run over by a truck. My back was in knots for four days. Never again. Kids get an air mattress--Dad gets an air mattress.
The kids then set out to gather firewood as I had promised them we would make smores. Surprisingly, they did very well and in a matter of minutes they had collected enough wood for a fire that would last easily about three hours.
The sheer excitement of a kid roasting a marsh mellow over a campfire is truly something to behold. They really could care less about eating them. It was all about the process. Throwing wood on the fire, selecting the perfect roasting stick, positioning their chairs in just the right spot so the smoke wouldn't blow in their eyes. In no time they were little marsh mellow roasting experts.
We finally made the move to the tent around midnight. With the rain fly removed, the entire night sky is visible as the roof of the tent is total screen. It could not have been a more perfect night for camping. Not a cloud in the sky and the stars were out in full force. I lay there gazing at the heavens above and muttered a little silent prayer of gratitude that I could be entrusted with such the responsibility and privilege of sharing such joy with such wonderful children. No lie, no sooner had I finished than a shooting star split the sky above.
I can't get my wife to go camping with us. She has her reasons and they are all pretty valid. However, I like my son's argument, "Mom, you're just not doing it properly."
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Wednesday, June 13, 2007 8:38 PM
wrote:
Three merit badges. Three. That's all that stood between me and the illustrious rank of Eagle Scout. Citizenship in the Community. Citizenship in the Nation. Citizenship in the World. Wow! I knew at the ripe old age of twelve years old that I would never be a leader. Hell, I really wasn't much of a follower either. I just couldn't seem to pull enough focus to string together the last three merit badges. By the time I hit Junior High School after-school sports and my out of control hormones pretty much derailed my scouting career.
Regrets? Maybe
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