Parkhurst: Just remember what you feared when young

The Scoutmasters’ Minute is the period at the end of the weekly meeting when one of the Scoutmasters tells a story to quiet the mood and prepare everyone to go back home to another environment.

Let’s just for a moment slip into that bright blue shirt of the Cub Scout, the one that has the diamond-shaped cloth patches that tell all that we are: a Bobcat, Wolf or Bear. And don’t forget the dome hat, with its little short brim and the yellow button on top as we try to get into the mind of that little guy who is the future of the Scouting movement.

Let’s start with the car. For most of his life, this guy has been buckled into an infant seat, strapped in the back seat of the car. All of his stuff is there, his toys, a favorite book, some games and a stuffed animal. He likes it there, he feels secure.

This is where his adventure always starts and ends. And when mommy goes to the mall, she always says: “Now honey, you help me remember where the car is parked when we get out.” That car is important.

OK. Then here he goes to camp. And you’re going to park the car where? You mean way over there through those woods with all of the monsters, snakes, spiders and stuff?

Yeah, right.

You need to know that when this little guy got out of diapers, he made a vow to himself. Never again would he let anyone see that part of his anatomy again, ever.

Then he goes to camp. He’s a big guy now, but he remembers the time after the potty chair was taken away, and he fell through the seat and his bottom dropped into the water below.

And you think he’s going into that nonflush toilet and put his bottom over that black hole with cobwebs and leave something that everyone can come and see? Hmmm. And take a shower with everyone else standing all around? Think again.

Finally, he is persuaded into the campsite. The games are fun, and Fort Scout was awesome, and he has met some new friends.

Maybe this isn’t going to be so bad after all. Then the sun goes down. There are strange sounds all around. The familiar sound of traffic or a dog barking or a lawn mower running is not to be heard.

He ventures a look out of the tent. THERE THEY ARE! All of the tree limbs have turned into monsters with huge arms hanging down near the ground, just waiting to grab the first silly kid foolish enough to leave the tent. And there are no lights.

Where was that toilet? Maybe over behind that tall grass? The stomach aches. He can’t wait to tell his little brother about shooting the BB gun off the fort.

Well, at least he won’t have to come again next year.

The previous paragraphs were from a report I gave to our local council several years ago in an effort to explain the psyche of a young boy going into Scouting for the first time.

Sometimes I think we forget the outright fear of the unknown when a young person moves to the next level.

I well remember when I left the one-room schoolhouse and entered Smith-Cotton High School. I was scared to death by all of those classrooms and rows of lockers. And being a country boy, I barely knew anyone except the friends I had in my Scout troop and a few girls who lived on adjacent farms.

It is a vulnerable time for a young person. At first, I fell into the wrong crowd and got into a few fights. I was confused. I remember talking to my Scoutmaster, Neal, who told me I needed to be true to myself and not listen to others if I knew it was wrong, no matter how unpopular it might make me.

We all need to make ourselves aware of the difficulty every young person faces and reach out with a helping hand.

Thanks to American businessman William D. Boyce who brought Scouting to the United States: It works.