Jeff Menaker 814 862-7494 (JXM181@PSUVM.PSU.EDU)
Wed, 10 Nov 1993 23:32:00 EST
Does anyone have any favorite stories that they like ot tell at
campfires...kind of relaxing story with some sort of "lesson"
to give towards the end of the campfire.
My favorite one goes like this. (as told from the camp ranger's point
I had a dream the other night.I was wandering through camp, kind of aimlessly,
as I usually do when I go patrolling through the camp. I'm just walking,
not seeing anything out of the ordinary. So I just keep walking and
walking until I come upon this trail that I didn't recognize. Now, this
trail was not just some deer run or dried up stream bed, this was about
five feet wide and completely woodchipped.
So, I'm sitting there thinking to myself "where the heck did this
trail come from". Being the ranger and all, it was my duty to check
this out. I mean really, suddenly come upon a well-made trail with,
wood chips and all, I mean this trail had the works, and not investigate
it. That just would not be good. So I decide to follow it and try to
figure out where it goes or where it came from. So, i'm walking along
this trail. going up and down hills, and around pastures, moving at a
pretty good pace for a fat man. As i'm walking, I slowly start to
realize that i've never been here before. Before this I had covered
just about all parts of the camp, and could tell where i was almost
immediately, but here...nothing looked familiar [continue with walking
until you feel it is quiet enough to get on with the story]
And all of a sudden I come to this small clearing way up high on the
mountain. Right in the middle of this clearing is a stump, and do you
know who was sitting there? You got ol' Lord Baden-Powell himself.
He didn't look to bad for being dead for all these years. I stared and
stared for a while for some reason not believing my eyes. And then
I walked towards him. As I got closer he turned around, smiled and
said "Hi Mark". Well let me tell you, this really took me as a surprise.
Not only do i find this new trail, come to a clearing I'd never been
to before, meet someone whom I thought was long dead, but have Lord
Baden-Powell address me by name. I started to ask him how he knew
who I was, but he said to just relax, because he knew what I wanted. He
would answer one question for me. It take long for me to think of the
question, it was one that had been bothering me for a while. So I asked him:
"What's the difference between a good scout and a bad scout?" He didn't
answer. He just turned, started to walk out of the field and said "come
with me" So, being the curious kind of guy that I am, I followed him. He
led me through some of the strangest parts of the camp that I had seen.
And he moved at a good clip for a dead guy, and since this was my dream and
all, I was able to keep up with him.
He walked on for what seemed like forever until we finally came to this
huge parade field. I mean huge, you could fit many football fields in this
field with a line of flagpoles and flags of various things along one side.
At the other side was this vast dining hall. This thing was bigger than
any building I had ever seen before: The front doors were a row of 16
doors, with windows all along the walls. Lord Baden-Powell quickly
dissapeared within the dining hall, and I followed him. When I got inside
I was so confused. The inside seemed bigger than it should have from
the outside. But that's not what confused me. The thing that really
got me were the utensils. Each boy had only one utensil, a spoon. Now this
was not just your ordinary spoon, This spoon had a handle seven feet long.
And theses boys were trying to dip it into their soup, and ended up spilling
it all over the table, the floors, and themselves. It was truely a mess.
Then I saw Lord Baden-Powell disappear behind another row of doors, just
like the front doors. I followed him through these doors, and as I got to
the other side, it was as if I had just gone througha wormhole or something.
Everything was perfectly clean, the floors spotless, the tables spotless,
and even the scouts were perfectly clean. Again, like in the first room,
all of these scouts had just one utensil, a seven foot-spoon. But these
scouts would take their spoon, dip it into the soup of the person across
from them and feed each other, and the other scout would do the same for
him. Lord Baden-Powell didn't have to say anything. I immediately
understood what he was trying to show me, this was the answer to my
question. The good scout was the one who was would care about and help
their fellow scouts.
I would greatly appreciate if anyone else has stories like this.
There was another one i recall a little bit from camp. It was
about a ragged flag and a guy bragging about it all that it had been
through, and being proud of it. Anyone know this one?
Terry Howerton Sakima Group, Inc. SCOUTER Magazine Kansas City