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Boy Scouts in one sense was more of the same as Cub Scouts: initial enthusiasm followed by gradually waning interest in pursuing the goals and awards of Scouting. It was just spread out over more years. I joined the Scout troop at the start of sixth grade and stayed an active member through eleventh grade. During that time, I earned my way up to the rank of First Class, which is halfway to the highest rank of Eagle Scout. But by the time I’d reached First Class, I’d lost interest in working on the various merit badges required to attain a higher rank. I kept going because overall I enjoyed the social activities and camping.
As a social scene, the Scout troop had positives and negatives. On the one hand, I clashed with several of the kids through most of my time in the troop, the kids who knew I was an easy target for taunting and who just didn’t get along with me. As with school, this gradually became less of a problem as we all matured. On the other hand, I established some more good friendships through Scouting; in particular, I first really got to know and become friends with Doug, a kid I sort of knew from school who was two grades younger than me, and like Scott and Eldy from orchestra, Doug became one of my best and closest friends.
At the same time I became good friends with Doug—and Jon, and Dave, and Mike—I gradually lost my best friend from elementary school, Andy. In school, we ended up in separate classes, so we lost some connection there. In Scouting, Andy was promoted up to patrol leader before I was, and though I did not grudge him that, I did have clashes with him over his leadership of our patrol. Ultimately it was a simple matter of growing older and growing apart, our interests diverging. By the time we finished junior high, we were still friendly—and remain friendly to this day—but not really friends anymore, like we had been.
Despite my lack of progress in ranks, I did end up becoming a patrol leader for at least a year, I think maybe my last couple years in the troop. I doubt I was ever much of a good one, as inclined to yell at the guys to knock it off as I was to try reasoning with them, and certainly not very inspiring given my lack of advancement. But I did all right, and as one of the older Scouts I was expected to be showing some kind of leadership, so I stepped up as well as I could.
Camping was an interesting experience. I didn’t like being out in the cold, I didn’t like working directly with matches and fire, and it seems like more often than not there’d be some point in the camping trip where I’d be tired and unhappy and want to be home. Despite all that, somehow I still enjoyed it and kept going. I did like hiking and exploring the woods, I really enjoyed canoeing, and generally it was a fun experience to be out roughing it with my friends. In particular, I enjoyed our winter trips to a cabin called the Hen House (as it was a converted coop) and our summer trips canoeing on the Saco River.
I also went to the week-long Scout camp in the summer. Most years we went to Camp Carpenter in New Hampshire, where I decidedly disliked swimming in the slimy Long Pond. I was always an indifferent swimmer at best, and ended up essentially giving up on earning the Swimming merit badge when it meant I’d have to do a lot of underwater swimming in the murky slimy pond. In my later years we went at least once to the Hidden Valley Scout Camp further up north in Gilmanton Iron Works, which was situated between a couple lakes and was much nicer. I’m not sure why we changed camps, but that might have been the point when Camp Carpenter was repurposed just for Cub Scouting activities.
My favorite camping trip ended up being my last one. In the summer after my junior year, a few of the troop leaders organized a week-long canoeing trip on the St. Croix River between Maine and New Brunswick, just for the older boys who were the leaders in the troop. I’d always enjoyed the Saco River, but it was a rather placid river where we canoed; the St. Croix was a little more robust and had some minor rapids to navigate, so it was more exciting. Because the river forms the border with Canada, this was my first time in Canada, although unofficially (at least, in my memory; I think there was a family trip into Canada when I was an infant, but of course I don’t remember that). At one point—looking at a map now, I believe in Vanceboro—we got permission to unofficially cross the border so that we could look at the rapids below a dam, where we would be re-entering the river. I really enjoyed the whole trip and would love to do that sort of canoeing again. (Actually, I still haven't done any canoeing even on the lakes here in Seattle, despite talking about it every summer. Somehow a plan never seems to happen!)
The reason that was my last camping trip was simply because I decided not to go back to Scouts in senior year. I wasn’t going to advance any further, I wasn’t interested in the activities at the meetings anymore, and I had schoolwork to focus on. I also had quit my paper route before this canoe trip, and afterward I got my first regular job as a cashier at a local department store; that meant I was working most afternoons and evenings, and I didn’t want to try scheduling Tuesdays as a regular night off for Scouts. It’s actually a little weird to me now: did I really just quit like that, especially right after my favorite camping trip which was set up for the leadership boys? As far as I recall, I did. I don’t even remember talking to anyone at the troop about it, although I must have informed someone I wouldn’t be coming back.
As a social scene, the Scout troop had positives and negatives. On the one hand, I clashed with several of the kids through most of my time in the troop, the kids who knew I was an easy target for taunting and who just didn’t get along with me. As with school, this gradually became less of a problem as we all matured. On the other hand, I established some more good friendships through Scouting; in particular, I first really got to know and become friends with Doug, a kid I sort of knew from school who was two grades younger than me, and like Scott and Eldy from orchestra, Doug became one of my best and closest friends.
At the same time I became good friends with Doug—and Jon, and Dave, and Mike—I gradually lost my best friend from elementary school, Andy. In school, we ended up in separate classes, so we lost some connection there. In Scouting, Andy was promoted up to patrol leader before I was, and though I did not grudge him that, I did have clashes with him over his leadership of our patrol. Ultimately it was a simple matter of growing older and growing apart, our interests diverging. By the time we finished junior high, we were still friendly—and remain friendly to this day—but not really friends anymore, like we had been.
Despite my lack of progress in ranks, I did end up becoming a patrol leader for at least a year, I think maybe my last couple years in the troop. I doubt I was ever much of a good one, as inclined to yell at the guys to knock it off as I was to try reasoning with them, and certainly not very inspiring given my lack of advancement. But I did all right, and as one of the older Scouts I was expected to be showing some kind of leadership, so I stepped up as well as I could.
Camping was an interesting experience. I didn’t like being out in the cold, I didn’t like working directly with matches and fire, and it seems like more often than not there’d be some point in the camping trip where I’d be tired and unhappy and want to be home. Despite all that, somehow I still enjoyed it and kept going. I did like hiking and exploring the woods, I really enjoyed canoeing, and generally it was a fun experience to be out roughing it with my friends. In particular, I enjoyed our winter trips to a cabin called the Hen House (as it was a converted coop) and our summer trips canoeing on the Saco River.
I also went to the week-long Scout camp in the summer. Most years we went to Camp Carpenter in New Hampshire, where I decidedly disliked swimming in the slimy Long Pond. I was always an indifferent swimmer at best, and ended up essentially giving up on earning the Swimming merit badge when it meant I’d have to do a lot of underwater swimming in the murky slimy pond. In my later years we went at least once to the Hidden Valley Scout Camp further up north in Gilmanton Iron Works, which was situated between a couple lakes and was much nicer. I’m not sure why we changed camps, but that might have been the point when Camp Carpenter was repurposed just for Cub Scouting activities.
My favorite camping trip ended up being my last one. In the summer after my junior year, a few of the troop leaders organized a week-long canoeing trip on the St. Croix River between Maine and New Brunswick, just for the older boys who were the leaders in the troop. I’d always enjoyed the Saco River, but it was a rather placid river where we canoed; the St. Croix was a little more robust and had some minor rapids to navigate, so it was more exciting. Because the river forms the border with Canada, this was my first time in Canada, although unofficially (at least, in my memory; I think there was a family trip into Canada when I was an infant, but of course I don’t remember that). At one point—looking at a map now, I believe in Vanceboro—we got permission to unofficially cross the border so that we could look at the rapids below a dam, where we would be re-entering the river. I really enjoyed the whole trip and would love to do that sort of canoeing again. (Actually, I still haven't done any canoeing even on the lakes here in Seattle, despite talking about it every summer. Somehow a plan never seems to happen!)
The reason that was my last camping trip was simply because I decided not to go back to Scouts in senior year. I wasn’t going to advance any further, I wasn’t interested in the activities at the meetings anymore, and I had schoolwork to focus on. I also had quit my paper route before this canoe trip, and afterward I got my first regular job as a cashier at a local department store; that meant I was working most afternoons and evenings, and I didn’t want to try scheduling Tuesdays as a regular night off for Scouts. It’s actually a little weird to me now: did I really just quit like that, especially right after my favorite camping trip which was set up for the leadership boys? As far as I recall, I did. I don’t even remember talking to anyone at the troop about it, although I must have informed someone I wouldn’t be coming back.
