KEN’S CORNER: The Boy Scouts Of America

I owe the Boy Scouts a lot. Much of the good that I took into manhood was first introduced to me in the Boy Scouts. An understanding and respect for nature, team effort, respect for authority, self-knowledge, and a positive attitude, is fashioned and absorbed without much effort at thirteen. Automatic things I do in the woods today, and in everyday life, was forged way back then…

There were forty of us in Troop 185, attached to St. Raphael church in Old Gentilly, New Orleans. Every kind of boy was represented, every body type, ego, I.Q., from mamma’s boys to trekkers, but we were all, one for all and all for one, brothers in spirit. From the city, that bus ride to Mandeville, Marywood, Dr. Brocatto’s farm, or Camp Salmon was an adventure beyond measure. Our camp was laid out by prescribed military rules, taught to us by men who were WWII vets. and every boy was thought to be special, and urged to push forward with the talents God gave them. I gravitated toward first aid, and the use of a compass, and who knows why, but during jamborees where we competed with other troops for the recognition of our knowledge, we all excelled in different ways.

I got into my share of trouble, loosing all track of time out in the woods. When we were told to muster at a certain time, I was seldom there. “La Rive gets to dig the latrine!” Was heard nearly every trip, but I didn’t mind, it was worth it. There were logs to turn over, and frogs to catch, and I understood the songs the wind made in the trees. It was just too much to bear, so beautiful, so inspiring, I just never wanted to leave. I ran and played all day, into the night, and was up again at dawn, tired but pumped with adrenaline. I had sticks in my hair, and bits of leaves in my shoes…

I saw my first six-point buck on the bank of Fontainebleau Lake. It came there every morning for a drink. I was up in a tree waiting, and it never suspected I was there. The sound of its hooves as it bounded through the clearing, and the proud and majestic way it held its head as its ears listened, I’ll never forget.

That wet log of blue phosphorus I found while digging our garbage pit in Marywood was pure magic. I carried it in my arms into camp right after the sun went down, and it was bright enough to read by. By the end of the night it was broken into millions of small sapphire flecks that covered the ground. Stars beyond the trees, reflecting on the lake’s still water, and that blue phosphor sprinkle, was like a dream world. I’ll never forget it.

The time we were having our Friday night meeting and one of those “bad” boys made the mistake of throwing a firecracker into the door. What a surprise to find forty boys and seven men, chasing you down the street. I could never forget his look of surprise.

The time our entire troop went to the funeral of one of the fathers who had died of a heart attack, and we stood at attention while the casket was lowered. There were bake sales to raise money, close order drills and parade marching, the smell of hickory and red bonfire sparks on a deep black sky. There was the taste of fresh caught perch cooked on an open fire, fire flies in a jar, box turtles, axes, knives, canteens, firewood, and crab apple stomachaches. There was the sound of yells, of running boys with flashlights that flickered in the woods, hysterical laughter, and the cool breath of earth and night. There was the perfume of tent resin, mosquito pucks, roasted Hershey bars and marshmallows, ghost and Indian stories around the campfire, and the glow of wide-eyed faces, …these are the sweet memories of youth…

I shoved off from Scouting as life moved on. Suddenly, my 66 Mustang, and girls, got to be more important to me on Friday night. It wasn’t in the cards for me to have a son, but someday a grandson might be my ticket back in. Those wondrous ideals we memorized is still ingrained. A scout is: trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, thrifty, cheerful, brave, clean, and reverent, has followed me everywhere, and I believe helped me to be a better father, a better husband, a better person. I didn’t know it then, but as I watched my friends laughing around the campfire, and the night slipped behind the trees, those few and precious moments would stay with me forever. We were taught to leave only our footprints in the woods, but nothing was said of the responsible standards that became a part of me. And as I stood at attention, with forty other boys, we became Oath-keepers.

Love and Peace- Ken