The Typical Enchantment of the Boy Scout Summer Camp at S-F, Where the Smudge Pots Always Cause Some Sort of Trouble

Friday, June 23, 2006

Before heading out to the camp that afternoon, Collette laced up her good hiking boots. That trusty old pair had seen her through the mountain pass in the Tetons, all fifteen miles in a blistering 92 degrees with a thirty pound hiking pack, platypus, dried mangoes, M ‘n Ms, and a full day in the wilderness. Ah, the good old days… Though she still always regretted never making it to Paintbrush Canyon.

But anyway, the ride to S-F always called for a little interestingness, and they got it as usual, all crammed into the mini-van after Dad had moved them out sergeant-like so they could leave the city before the traffic hit.

“Look!” Rose called to the rest of the van at some point in the journey. “My belly-button got engaged.”

Collette did not even look up to what she was talking about. Something about a ring in her belly-button or something…

“Does that guy have an ice cream cone tattooed on his shoulder?” Carrie called out, pointing to a shirtless man riding in the back of a pick-up going 70 down the highway.

“He’s going to get himself killed,” Dad said grimly as the pick-up swerved.

“What did he just throw in the window?” Collette asked to herself. “Looks like a firecracker.”

“It is a firecracker!” Frances exclaimed.

But the pick-up did not light up inside, so they figured that it must not have been live.

Later, before just reaching S-F, they dropped by the Pizza Hut in Farmington once again to order dinner for themselves and the Scouts. And just as they had stretched their legs a bit and Frances and Linnea watched the storm come in, the rain blasted them back into the mini-van. Never before had summer camp been met with rain on family night. The sun had always shown golden.

But this time it was gray and cool, and for the last twenty minutes of the drive they watched the rain pound and the lightening flash across the horizon of the great front.

Upon arrival they were greeted by two older Scouts giving directions. Both hurriedly combed their hair to the side with their hands as they saw the van approach and did their best to communicate directions, coolly and methodically. After parking, they loaded themselves up with folding chairs and water bottles and Dad took the stack of pizzas. So they trekked the muddy trail back into the woods and there they found in Famous Eagle, Camp Wenzel – Troop 975. From a distance, they could see several of the younger scouts wearing full ponchos. And, as usual, the Scouts could tell when dinner was coming.

“FOOD!” They cried out, hurrying to meet them.

“Pizza!? I think I’ll die!” A blue poncho exclaimed.

“Oh, FOOD!”

Collette didn’t really know who the kids were, but they soon had a little posse following them back to the shelter where Joe, Wallace, and Curly were hurriedly preparing their tent for visitors and doing their best to be gentlemanly.

“Mommy!” Joe exclaimed, brushing aside the tent flaps to fasten them.

“Hello!” Wally cried out as well, helping with the tent flaps.

All three boys were in full dress uniform and seemed quite eager to see food. They escorted the family about in the dripping rain to check out the hammock lounge in the back, the tea light circle on the deck behind the hammocks with a miniature Weber kettle in the corner. Those older Scouts – always got the fancy trimmings. The tent was rather messy, with everything pushed to the side. Joe and Curly blamed it on Wallace.

But the boys were hungry and after Dad said a prayer, they grabbed at the pizzas. Shortly later, several boys trooped over to the tent.

“Mrs. Silverspoon sent us over here to eat pizza,” they said. Or so they claimed.

Meanwhile, Israel showed Frances and Linnea around in the mud and tents of the troop and shook tree trunks next to each other to administer showers on top of one another’s heads. The boys continued to tidy things as they noticed them, and proudly displayed their shelter of tarps and an umbrella behind the tent over the hammocks. Curly’s hammock had somehow broken when he was partially sitting on it, or something, but there were still three hammocks swinging. Collette settled herself into Joe’s while the boys discussed their week.

“Wallace caught two snakes.”

“We’ll probably win the contest. We’re in second place.”

“Whoever catches the most wildlife wins.”

It was good to lie there in the little green hammock and look across the woods in the light rain and the green of an early summer where the fireflies were already glowing. Thunder echoed far off beyond the trees.

And the guys and Carrie and Rose joked about Nacho Libre and other oddly funny things while Carrie rocked in the red hammock with Joe’s pillow and blanket.

Oddly enough, Wallace did not receive his letter from Rose, although Joe and Curly had both been handed theirs during some down-time. Joe had been sitting next to his buddy, Yam Redstick, at the time. As Joe was handed Rose’s letter, Yam sniffed the air.

“(Sniff, sniff.) Ah hah!”

He snatched the letter from Joe and ran off with the perfumed letter, smelling it.

Typical.

The Boy Scouts could never give up the opportunity to smell a little waft of the good life back home, even if they had only been gone for four and a half days. Yam slept with Rose’s letter over his face as he went to sleep that night, according to Joe, Wallace, and Curly.

By that time, other Scouts had joined the circle to see the women-folk, no doubt, and to catch up on the proceedings of the week. The boys’ campsite was apparently the place to be. One kid, just having returned from Philmont, dropped by to check in on his pals.

“So, how was Philmont?”

“It was tight, man. It was tight.”

“How’d you get back here so fast.”

“Uh, a car.”

Then Wilbur, Lace, and Dulcinea showed up, Starr having opted to remain home with Chester while he recovered. And meanwhile, Rose decided to troop off into the woods after Curly told her about an old OA campfire site buried a short ways back in the trees. Rose left to explore for a short while and returned with a baby turtle. The boys took their turns holding it and several were almost bitten by the little guy.

“Oh, can’t I keep him, Dad? I’ve been searching for him for twelve years!” She pleaded several times. “Hello!” She said to the little fellow, holding him up close to her face. The boys laughed. “Now he’s mine.”

“No, Rose, you may not bring the turtle home.”

“But, Dad, I’ve been searching for him for twelve years!”

“Rose, that means you’ve been looking for him since you were three,” Carrie rolled her eyes.

“No, four. I’ve been searching for him for twelve years. He’s the perfect size!”

“Yeah,” Curly laughed. “She went through the woods passing all these turtles. ‘Too big.’ (Stomp.) ‘Too big.’ (Stomp.) ‘Perfect!'”

But in the end, the turtle had to return to its natural habitat. And on they proceeded to the opening ceremonies after Joe had given Mom a great big hug.

“Oh, goodbye, Mommy!” Collette heard him cry obnoxiously, half-way across the camp.

On the way to the lake, they discovered that there was to be no more watermelon and dump cake afterward. Apparently the Scout master had explained away this change in tradition by blaming it on the fact that the boys became too homesick if they saw their families once again before they left for the night. Collette had no comments.

The opening ceremonies took place in the open-air chapels or ampitheatres. The older Scouts would entertain the families for a short period of time with skits and songs, many of them recycled throughout the years. And this year, five older scouts put on a little ditty, chanting through descriptions of various jobs they might have if they weren’t Eagle Scouts. It ended up as a round, one boy representing a plumber, the second a pirate, third – firefighter, fourth – politician, and fifth – Girlscout.

Their chants went thus, respectively (and with hand motions).

1. Plunge it, flush it. Look out below!

2. Aye! Avast! Hoist the mizzenmast!

3. Jump, lady, jump! Aaaaaah! (Splat!)

4. Truth? Lies? What’s the difference? I approve this message.

5. (Ding dong.) Hi there! Would you like to buy some cookies?

And then, of course, the famous “We’re Making a Purple Stew” audience participation. The same song had been sung in the peak of the golden Earnest years, including such lyrics as:

“We’re making a purple stew,

Shooby dooby doo…

With purple potatoes

And purple tomatoes…”

But it was soon time for the ceremony to begin. The sky had turned to cream as the sun set rose and violet beyond the forest. And as the canon blasts echoed over the water, out the boys marched on the other side of the lake eddy. The audience was rather loud and some kid behind Collette shined her flashlight on the shore during the entire ceremony. But, after all, it was the OA ceremony, and there was something ridiculously magical about it, even though Collette and Carrie had never seen a sloppier looking crew in their lives. Half of the Scouts were wearing jeans and brightly colored ponchos. Some hung their arms at their sides. One kid started tying his shoe. Two-thirds of the smudge pots went out before all the boys had finished filing out, arms crossed over their chests. There were a few gaps in the line. The Indian on the lake in the canoes began chanting the famous chant and his voice cracked on the first line. Carrie started laughing so hard that she thought her internal organs might burst as she attempted to smother the choking laughter. The two red flares were lit and thrown into the lake, the great bonfire was lit, and the Indians’ bells pounded on the dirt as they ran up and down the line of Scouts eight times, yelling:

“YOU – have been CHOSEN!”

The last Indian tripped over the same smudge pot twice. The audience gasped a little on his second trip, but he managed to keep himself upright in the darkness with his torch, despite the fact that by that point, almost all the smudge pots had gone out.

The fiery arrow shot across the lake, and that was that.

In the end, both Wallace and Israel were chosen and taken away in silence to contemplate manhood and Scouting under the stars all night. Joe and Curly spent the night comfortably in their hammocks, having already been chosen in earlier years.

Soon they were back in the car, trying to make it home before midnight.

“Dad, you’re Eagle!” Frances exclaimed suddenly, completely taken by surprise at the realization.

Somehow that great piece of information had managed to escape him over the years.

“Dad’s way past Eagle!” Linnea told him, loyally.

“That’s right,” Dad said, leaving the parking lot. “I’m so far past Eagle, I’m a bald Eagle.”