Memory Lane:

It was a rough night.  Stormed, thunder, and Lexi figured out how to open my bedroom door.  I had a dog beside the bed for the rest of the night.  Power went out sometime early (which reminds me, need to reset my clock, brb ..., okay, back.  Apparently it had been back on for 12 hrs and 28 minutes.  Didn't have to reset my alarm though) therefore there was no coffee.  Thought about writing this blog at work (on my lunch hour, I mean..., yeah, that's the ticket) but it slipped my mind.

I really don't feel any more like blogging than I did last week, but I feel bad not doing it.  Someone has already noticed and mentioned it, so I'm going to try to get this posted by midnight.

I also feel bad not blogging because I have topics.  I promised an old friend from Scouting that I'd tell a story (or two) from WAY back, in particular what I have come to call "The Great Staff Walk Out of 1976."  I'm not sure I can make it readable in an hour and two minutes, but here goes:

For me it starts when I decided I wouldn't apply for camp staff in the summer of '76.  I was finishing up my freshman year in college, and thought I should probably get a real job for the summer.  (Don't even ask how that worked out for me.)  

I was home for a weekend, and mowing what little grass there was in front of the place we lived, when two vehicles pulled up (a brown car [as I recall] and an infamous little red Chevy Luv pickup [about which I can, but probably shouldn't, tell more tales]) driven respectively by Bill Chamberlain and David Pressler.  They had apparently just returned from National Camping School, and were full of enthusiasm and vinegar about the summer ahead.  Dave was going to be Program Director and Bill was Field Sports Director.  They told me Mr. Mott (and at the time, I didn't have a clue who that was) would be Camp Director, and of course 38 years later I don't recall the whole conversation, but it was going to be the Best Summer Camp Ever and I needed to fill out this staff application. I was going to teach archery, and work for Bill.  (It apparently didn't matter that I couldn't, and still can't, hit the side of a barn with an arrow.)

So, I became Assistant Field Sports Director on the 1976 Camp Karankawa Summer Camp Staff.  Some other Principal Players:  Leroy Mott was Camp Director, and his family was in camp with him, employed in various useful capacities.  Robin Bashaw, a friend from my troop (who later, incidentally, became Scout Executive for that Council) was also on staff, as a Commissioner if I recall correctly.  He also maintained two regular jobs outside of camp during the season.  He did not see the need for sleep, which is also another story in itself (which I am unfortunately unqualified to relate.)  Joey Trobis was a Scout from David Pressler's troop, who was not quite old enough for Staff, but due to family medical issues, David and Leroy had agreed he could spend the summer as staff mascot, more or less.

I think that takes care of the principal cast ..., except for two.  Up to now I'm using real names.  Actually, of the names I've listed, Bill and myself are the only ones living.  I don't think Bill will mind.  If I could find him on Facebook I'd ask him.  (BTW, if anyone who was actually there reads this, correct my errors and omissions.  I know I have at least one Facebook friend whose role in this is going unmentioned as I rush to finish in 29 minutes.)

I am going to change the names on the next two characters for a number of reasons:  I haven't seen either of them in 30 years or so, they were both Professional Scouters at the time, I don't know if either would want to be named herein, and one of them gets the role of "Bad Guy."  So I'm going to call them Bob and Stan.  Bob was District Executive where I lived, Stan had another professional role somewhere in the Council, but he had already taken a job elsewhere.  Bob was assigned as "Staff Advisor" to the staff.  (We considered the role "Council spy.")  But Bob was a good guy.

I'll gloss over the first few weeks.  Leroy, Dave and Bill had a lot of enthusiasm and great ideas they brought from Camp School, morale was great, the campers seemed to be having a great time.  (In case you're unfamiliar with Scouting's version of long term camping, units come for a week at a time, so we had a different bunch of campers every week.)  Leroy started a "Coup Stick" game, where any Troop, Patrol, or Individual would make their own "Coup Stick."  If it was "stolen" whoever had it could demand a "ransom" for its return.  It seemed to be a lot of fun.  (I was too busy not hitting the side of the barn with arrows.)

Then we come to the third or fourth week.  (Maybe fifth, I don't remember, it doesn't matter.)  Bob had some other committment, so he got Stan to fill in for him as Staff Advisor.  No problem so far.

Did I mention camp was going great?  Morale was high.  We had program running out our ears.  Skits, improvisation, creativity, running themes.  We had program with every meal.

A few days into this particular week, the staff left its Coup Stick in charge of a younger staff member, who in turn left it in his cabin.  A camper retrieved it therefrom.  Let us dismiss the fact that Staff Camp was off limits to Campers, leaving the Coup Stick "off limits" was also against the rules.  So (I'm gonna call 'em) Troop Zero had the Staff Coup Stick.  Big Coup.  Pun intended.

Camp WAS going great, up 'til now, with the possible exception of the swimming pool.  And of course Staff has egg on their face for losing their Coup Stick.  And now Troop Zero gets to demand their ransom:  "Thursday is Parents Night.  The flagpole in our camp site is rusty.  It would be nice to have it painted for Parents Night."  A pretty reasonable demand, if you asked me, then or now.

HOWEVER, we are dealing with adolescent males.  (When I meet a post-adolescent male, I'll let you know.)  Staff meeting:  How can we comply with the letter of the demand while grossly violating the spirit?  Many suggestions came forward.  Clear paint (my personal favorite.)  Candy stripe the pole.  I doubt if any real decision was made.

However, an expedition was dispatched to paint the flagpole.  At night.  LATE at night.  They were, apparently, not nearly as organized as it would have taken to create a peppermint flagpole, nor were they equipped with transparent paint.  But paint they had, of apparently any and every color they could locate, and brushes, and stealth.  They painted the pole (at least part of it.)  They also painted the picnic table.  And the ropes of the Troop tents (while carefully avoiding the canvas.  They were Scouts, not vandals.)  They painted the crapper.  Shut.

They didn't wake a soul.  (Okay, that's not ENTIRELY true.  I understand one young camper awoke, whispered "Oh my God, they're going to kill us," and went back to sleep.)

The next morning, the Troop awoke.  The leaders awoke.  They were furious.  (I believe they were most furious that this had been accomplished without waking the troop.  I believe they were impressed.)  

They complained, to the Camp Director.

Did I mention that things were not going exactly swimmingly at the pool?  The pump was out.  Had been for a while.  The pool was green.  Mr. Mott was a similar shade when he heard Troop Zero's complaint.  However, he HAD to go into town to pick up a new pump for the pool.  Giving his staff a look I wish I could master (and I've been told I can give some mean looks) he announced "We'll deal with this when I get back" and left to get the pump.

I knew this would be a long story.  I have five minutes to get it posted by midnight.  So I think that's a good place to end part one.  Tune in next week for part two, same bat time, same bat channel.

I can retire in 646 days.  You kids get outta my camp site!  And quit paintin' that crapper!

(Damn!  It's midnight!)