WILL B.
B.
No lessons to be learned from today’s column, just fond memories. Some of my fondest and core memories come from my youth as a Cub Scout and Boy Scout.
I can’t speak for all but from the friends I had and made in those two fine organizations most of the other kids were in it to make friends, have adventures and generally have a good time. I too was in it for those reasons, but I gained so much more I didn’t know that I needed at the time, life lessons and how to be a decent human.
Some who have been following my columns know I didn’t have the kind of parents who took part in guiding me as a young man. I mean that in all regards of healthy development.
No sympathy is needed, I mention just as a reference. This made the Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts more important to my development as a youth.
Things I learned, how to make and treat friends, how to be polite, manners, how to catch a frog [ha-ha], respect my elders, be trustworthy, be helpful and many more important lessons are too long to list.
I was no perfect angel, mind you, but these tools I learned would take shape in molding me later in life as I chose what path I wanted to take as a person and what personality traits I chose.
Now to the fun memories: I have so many tales to tell about my years as a Boy Scout I could write a book, so I will choose one of my favorites.
My very favorite Boy Scout memory was my first camping trip as a Boy Scout. There is a tradition among Scouts and their first camping trip -- at least there was in my troop -- it was the catching of a snipe.
After a long and exhausting car ride filled with to many slug bugs and ‘I Spy’ games, my troop arrived at our camping spot, deep in the woods near a river. I’m recollecting it was the Brazos but could be mistaken.
Our group excitedly exited the caravan of cars and scattered in all directions, looking for the perfect spots to pitch tents. After setting up tents, gathering firewood and finishing up with some serious horseplaying, we gathered around the spot of the campfire, still about an hour before the sun would depart.
The preparations for the fire had begun and we ate cold sandwiches and chips that first day while sitting on stumps or the dry dusty ground. The sun was close to falling over the tree line and we had settled in to tell jokes and wait for the inevitable ghost story when my troop leader sat down next to me and handed me a burlap sack and a flashlight.
As I sat stupefied, staring at these objects the troop leader told me it was my responsibility as a first-time camper to go out into the woods and catch a snipe for tomorrow’s lunch, it was tradition he assured by as I heard a little snicker. Not one to disobey the troop leader or break with tradition, I eagerly trampled off into the woods for the next hour or two or three until finally the troop master thought I had enough, and sent troop members out to rustle me back to camp.
It was a tiresome ordeal, but I wouldn’t change a thing. I arrived back at the fire to receive snickers and laughs but also the respect and friendship of all my troop mates. We spent the good part of the rest of the night roasting marshmallows and telling ghost stories. I learned a couple of valuable lessons: one, that there are no such things as snipes and, two, that sometimes being the butt of a joke is a good thing.
This is Will B saying, anyone for a good snipe hunt?