Camplore

I wear a Boy Scout uniform at least once a week, usually twice a week, and frequently on the weekend as well. It’s not my best color, khaki, but I have a hard time coming up with anything more appropriate when I’m headed out with my favorite group of camping and activity friends.

I grew up in scouting - Girl Scouting, mind you. I frankly was at a loss when God blessed me with two boys and it was clear that if I was going to resume scouting, it was going to be Boy Scouting. Thankfully, the organization finds a place easily for moms and other volunteers who aren’t only of the “dad” variety, as my sons’ father is certainly not cut of olive cloth, or khaki for that matter. Being a divorced mom, I sought a place to nourish my need for the outdoors with adventure and fun for my boys, and found it in Boy Scouting.

It’s pretty easy to fit into Cub Scouting as a mom. The challenge gets to be as the boys get older, such as in Webelos and Boy Scouts. There are certain guidelines and rules that really must be followed in order to make campouts reasonable for everybody - after all it is Boy Scouts. But I’m amenable to 2-deep leadership, with at least one other woman on a trip. And we found a Boy Scout troop that welcomes involved parental leadership regardless of gender, for which I will always be grateful. I participate in our district as a training chair, and continue to make sure I am abiding by the rules to make this scouting experience the richest for those it’s intended to enrich - the boys.

My eldest will age out of Boy Scouting soon, but I’m happy to say he continues to be involved in a local Police Explorers crew. With my youngest just starting Webelos, I’ll be in Boy Scouting for several more years, no doubt. It’s hard to imagine not being in Scouting… it’s just in my blood. I love the adventure of getting outdoors and sharing what I know, as well as learning something I couldn’t possibly have expected every trip. I treasure the values my sons are applying, as well as learning, and look forward to what they could mean in their lives in the future. I hope my sons will remember the support I gave them doing what they enjoy, too, and how we were able to share fun times.

And to tell you the truth, I’m glad the uniforms are being updated. It’s a reminder that times change, and scouting still brings something to the table that our children would have a hard time finding without it. Bring on the changes!

At the end of October 2006, our Boy Scout troop lost one of its dearest assets, a long-time assistant Scoutmaster. Steve H. was the father of four boys, three of whom have completed their Eagle rank, and married to a wonderful woman who supported him and the boys, not from a distance, but from the front trenches. Scarcely an event went by without most if not all of the family there, serving, working, playing, laughing, teaching. Steve worked with the Trail to First Class boys, and he knew every boy in our troop, even while the rest of us were still trying to straighten out which one was Ryan and which one was Sean. At 50, Steve made his second trek to Philmont with my son, who reported he was a maniac, especially for his age. Quiet, behind the scenes, hard working, devoted to teaching boys to become the kinds of men that would make a mom proud. I wish I could’ve told Steve what that meant to me. We all miss him, and I hope my son never forgets the kind of person Steve was.

I thought I had met wintertime. Once. At a camp reunion we had between Christmas and New Years. It snowed in the mountains, and those of us reuinioning spent most of our time chopping wood, huddled under sleeping bags and blankets on thin mattresses in the staff room, or drawing straws to see whose turn it was to go fix something really hot to eat or drink. How quickly we forget (well, it was some 25 years ago. Egad.).

I was assigned an Order of the Arrow ordeal with my eldest at the beginning of December at a Boy Scout camp in Texas. I was relieved it wasn’t going to be in August, as trail clearing and trash hauling tend to be the order of the day in the Order of the Arrow. And even though I had packed my positive attitude and (incognito, not knowing how welcome they would be) a few pocket warmers, I was amazed at the temperature in the teens we experienced both Friday and Saturday nights.
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The North Texas Municipal Water District announced an emergency this fine mid-July day. Turns out a 72-inch water pipe has been damaged, water has been redirected, and the general population of Collin County has been asked to make do with a substantially limited amount of water for the next three days. Heaven forbid, a blade of that lush green grass in front of the bank may have to do without a drink for a few days. I know I’m disappointed I won’t be able to drive through the puddle of overspray that is on the street every single morning, drought or not.
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My Life Scout returned from his trip to Philmont. Which was a great success for him, I am delighted to report. There were moments in the months leading up to this I wasn’t sure it would be, especially in regard to foot care. He was quite determined to not wear the requisite sock liners under his hiking socks during practice hikes, and he paid for it with many a serious blister. For Philmont, he wore liners for the entire trip until the last two days. So he still came home with major blisters.

A quick survey of the returning equipment turned up a few missing items. So if you’re hiking around Philmont and happen across these items, you can drop me a comment and thank me.
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Reunion Recipe Favorite Number One has to be homemade cinnamon rolls for Sunday morning breakfast.

The teenagers in camp for the reunion are the workhorses for this event/meal. So this year, there were three 14 and 15-year-old guys, Ben, Michael and Brad. They turned out to be pretty good in the kitchen, amiable, a little smart-mouthed, and a lot of fun. They even found a radio station that worked for all of us.

You certainly wouldn’t want to try this on a campout, but if you have access to a reasonable kitchen, try out this recipe for homemade cinnamon rolls.
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I returned from a reunion of alumni of my Girl Scout camp several days ago. It was a grueling 11-hour drive across Texas to the southeast corner of New Mexico, but I wouldn’t have missed it. The annual meeting went without a hitch, the familiar faces were all happy, and precipitation has been kind to the Sacramento Mountains this spring. One evening was spent in the Lodge dancing, another at a campfire, then we were headed back to the Dallas/Ft. Worth metroplex. It amuses me to see how much fun my sons have at my old GS Camp, and I look forward to getting the place back in order to welcome all types of campers of all ages.

Don’t wear anything off the shoulder or a tank shirt or undershirt UNLESS YOU WEAR SUNSCREEN. You’re inviting a nasty sunburn, and a few days underarm hair growth is not anything you want to share.

Don’t wear sandals. Duh. Poison ivy, critters, mud, it all invites catastrophe if you’re tootsies aren’t enclosed.

Don’t go sockless. Yuck anyway. In fact. don’t go without two pair of socks. When your feet look like ground beef on the trail and are covered with blisters you’ll understand why I say this. For best results, use a thin synthetic liner sock with thick wool socks on the outside. Cotton is not your friend for a long hike. Socks should come up past your ankles to protect from most plants and varmints.

Don’t forget a hat. It doesn’t even matter what it looks like as long as it protects your face from the sun. Ideally, it should protect your ears and the back of your neck as well, because the sun shines there too.

Don’t wear pants that drag the ground. You only wear them to a fray and run the risk of the person behind you stepping on them and embarassing everyone.

Don’t wear obscene tshirts. By the time I read one, I realize I’m much closer to you than I’d like to be.

Don’t wear military gear. If you want to wear military clothing, join the military.

Don’t be mistaken for a pirate. This encompasses the missing socks, a rag wrapped around your head, missing teeth and saying “Yar, Matey!”

A lesson in using the right stuff for the job came into full focus today for my teenage son.

He’d spent the latter part of the afternoon edging the yard, and was getting ready for a casual dinner out. Next time I saw him, he was cringing, grabbing his crotch and weaving around the yard saying, “It’s so cold, it’s freezing, man this hurts…”, etc. I laughed at him because I thought he was joking, then started to wonder because he was really frantic. I asked him what was wrong, and he managed to gasp that he had used his foot powder instead of cornstarch baby powder to “freshen up”.

Yikes. It was pretty amusing from afar, but I don’t think he thought so. It took a bit of a soak in the tub to get him settled down, and he said he still noticed the lingering effect a couple of hours later. Lesson the next: don’t use anything with menthol, eucalyptus oil or peppermint oil in an area you don’t want to have a really chilling effect.

Well, that’s something you wouldn’t want to try on the Philmont trek, now, isn’t it?

As a high school student, a couple of friends and I took a long drive down a desolate road late at night in a far corner of west Texas. It was time to find the Marfa lights, and we were not disappointed.
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