BSA (Burbs)
After we move to the suburbs I find that my new best friend is in the Scouts, so I consider signing up. He is Catholic and the troop meets at Saint Charles Church so as a semi-protestant I’m not sure I will be allowed in. No problem, I join. Mom takes me to a downtown department store that carries official Boy Scout uniforms and such and gives me ten dollars to spend on getting suited up while she piddles about the store. Ye gads and little fishes! The garments must be made of golden threads to command such prices. My request to the saleslady for an extra large box to carry my purchase is met with a quizzical look but granted with a shrug. Mom wants to know what I got but I tell her wait until we get home and I will model it for her. The moment of truth arrives and I enter the living room sporting my new BSA neckerchief. “Where’s the rest of it?!” “Mom, that stuff was so expensive I thought I should get something I can really use.” – As I whipped out my OFFICIAL BSA POCKETKNIFE for display Momma began to pray “Oh, Jesus…”
The troop met once a week at the church where I quickly learned the perverted version of the scouts pledge “On my honor I will do my best to help the girl scouts get undressed.” Oh, we were some bad boys. Needless to say, I never won the “best-dressed” award, but I did get a few “ooohs” when I opened the BIG blade on my fancy knife.
Summertime meant a two week trip to the area BSA camp, Deep Creek Lake, where you could hone your outdoor skills and learn to tie various knots that may come in handy later in life. There WAS a lake so swimming and canoeing are on the menu. Sleeping quarters were a definite step up from the pup tent, wood shacks which held 4 folding cots. The leaders were always bugging you to learn some sort of outdoorsy skill or another so you could rise in rank or earn a “merit badge.” If you earned enough merit badges you would become an “Eagle Scout.” I don’t think I ever got above “hummingbird,” if there is such a rank. I think there is a touch of pyromania in my genes but I don’t think there’s a merit badge for that. However, I was able to pass the fire-starting test due to years of experience. You had to be able to start a campfire using only ONE match. The trick was to gather some really tiny dry twigs and arrange them in a pile and then put some of a little bit bigger size on top of them, and have some more of increasingly bigger sizes at the ready for when the fire began. Piece of cake for a firebug like me.
At the end of the two weeks all the various troops at the camp gathered for a big campfire where skits where performed and sing-a-longs broke out. We were told we would join a sacred tribe if we learned the magic phrase. It was difficult so we had to practice it one word at a time before saying it all together. Repeat after me said the leader “O” “O” said the chorus, “wha” “wha”, “dah” “dah”, “goo” “goo”, “siam” “siam” Altogether now! Ha ha ha ha I still don’t think it’s funny. I believe we all became members of the “Ancient Order of Asses.”
Welcome to the club.
The troop met once a week at the church where I quickly learned the perverted version of the scouts pledge “On my honor I will do my best to help the girl scouts get undressed.” Oh, we were some bad boys. Needless to say, I never won the “best-dressed” award, but I did get a few “ooohs” when I opened the BIG blade on my fancy knife.
Summertime meant a two week trip to the area BSA camp, Deep Creek Lake, where you could hone your outdoor skills and learn to tie various knots that may come in handy later in life. There WAS a lake so swimming and canoeing are on the menu. Sleeping quarters were a definite step up from the pup tent, wood shacks which held 4 folding cots. The leaders were always bugging you to learn some sort of outdoorsy skill or another so you could rise in rank or earn a “merit badge.” If you earned enough merit badges you would become an “Eagle Scout.” I don’t think I ever got above “hummingbird,” if there is such a rank. I think there is a touch of pyromania in my genes but I don’t think there’s a merit badge for that. However, I was able to pass the fire-starting test due to years of experience. You had to be able to start a campfire using only ONE match. The trick was to gather some really tiny dry twigs and arrange them in a pile and then put some of a little bit bigger size on top of them, and have some more of increasingly bigger sizes at the ready for when the fire began. Piece of cake for a firebug like me.
At the end of the two weeks all the various troops at the camp gathered for a big campfire where skits where performed and sing-a-longs broke out. We were told we would join a sacred tribe if we learned the magic phrase. It was difficult so we had to practice it one word at a time before saying it all together. Repeat after me said the leader “O” “O” said the chorus, “wha” “wha”, “dah” “dah”, “goo” “goo”, “siam” “siam” Altogether now! Ha ha ha ha I still don’t think it’s funny. I believe we all became members of the “Ancient Order of Asses.”
Welcome to the club.
posted by revsnodgrass | 6:31 AM
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