MOST THINGS CONSIDERED By Minx McCloud Scouting should be about fun and camping.
The Memorial Day parades have come and gone, and I enjoyed them all. I even marched in one, which was a first for me as an adult. However, marching in close proximity to the Brownie Scouts tickled my memories, back to when I was a kid.
Today’s Scouts truly seem to be having fun, and that’s wonderful. When I was a kid, parades gave us a feeling of importance, but they were NOT fun. We had to be in "full uniform" with all our badges, and if we lost one of our little white gloves, our parents would silently wither in shame.
Army soldiers did not march as stiffly or precisely as we did. Woe upon the girl who turned her head to acknowledge the presence of doting parents on the sidelines. Talking while "in formation" would have earned us not only a severe look from our leader, but also punishment in some form, usually weeding cemetery graves on a hot summer afternoon.
The troops I saw last week were actually having fun. They giggled when the crowd clapped and waved to their families, while still remaining solemn at the memorial services. I was glad to see them having fun.
I know it may seem like some sort of heresy, but when I was a kid, Scouting was NOT fun, at least not in the beginning. I’m sure all troops in the ’60s were not like mine; some of those who were in good old Troop 68 (Sheep Patrol) still get hives when they see a shortbread cookie.
If you had asked me in 1960 to describe my troop leader, "Mrs. B.," I would have been at a loss, because I was too young to understand technical terms like "schizophrenic," "manic depressive" and "obsessive compulsive." I would have had to stick with "crazy as a loon."
My friends and I were far from angels, I must admit. As I thumb through my old Girl Scout Handbook, there was probably a reason for the special page markers on "fire safety," "ice rescues" and "tourniquets" Somehow our antics often got a bit out of hand.
But Mrs. B. definitely abused her position of power. I remember a few arts and crafts sessions, and even less outings. The boys were always going off on trips to the local Scout camp or journeys to the beach wilderness of Long Island, N.Y. Not so with our Girl Scout troop.
Mostly I remember "work details." For our Homemaker Badge, we did all the required duties AND cleaned Mrs. B.’s house from top to bottom. For our Landscaper Badge, we pulled her weeds and planted grass in her yard, and for our Child Care Badge, we babysat her baby for hours on end and washed piles of diapers. We also made her family dinner for our Cooking Badge on afternoons that she retired early with one of her frequent "sick headaches."
We did go on a couple of camping trips, but most of what I remember is cleaning out the outhouses, though I don’t remember a Latrine Badge as such. Perhaps it somehow came under Homemaker.
I do remember a hike in the woods along a stream Mrs. B. told us was as "pristine and clean as the day the first settlers drank from it." We all dutifully took a handful and drank it. The dysentery we suffered was swift and merciless. It only lasted for a day or two, but our distrust of her lingered.
We rebelled by planning ways to visit the Boy Scouts who were camping across the lake. Now I don’t care what you’ve seen on "Happy Days," or any of those other shows that claim to be a nostalgic look at teens in the ’50s and ’60s. The girls I grew up with were not fraternizing with boys to steal forbidden kisses. It was a different era and we were still roller-skating and playing marbles.
But we weren’t adverse to telling raunchy jokes (which seem tame today), which put our leader over the edge the night she discovered four of us on the wrong side of the lake during a campout. It was totally innocent, but it sent her into a screaming bug-eyed frenzy, and to this day, I swear she frothed at the mouth and her eyes popped out of her head like a cartoon character.
After that, a few parents began asking questions, and suddenly, Mrs. B was no longer our leader. I am not ashamed to say that our celebration was more exuberant than that of the Munchkins when the wicked witch was squished.
Now mind you, I don’t believe Mrs. B. was the norm, especially when I saw other happy productive Scouts in neighboring troops. We just got a "bad seed," pure and simple. I’m not bitter all, especially since our troop’s story did have a happy ending.
Mrs. B. was replaced by a kind, wonderful leader, who believed that Scouting was all about outings, badges, community service and s’mores cooked over a campfire. She believed in responsibility and accountability, but mixed those lessons with fun. The only thing she never quite got used to was the bugs and frogs we collected on our trips, but she tolerated them as we earned Reptile and Amphibian, and Insect badges.
And we all lived happily ever after with my mom as our leader.
Pass the shortbread cookies, will you?
Minx McCloud is a freelance writer who writes about life in New Jersey. She can be reached at [email protected].