if it's meant to be, part 2

My family's summer 2018 calendar was a sight to behold.

On June 7, I loaded all 3 boys and their assorted gear for summer activities into my not-nearly-as-large-as-my-minivan Mazda Tribute and started our drive eastward. The original plan looked something like this:

June 7 drive to dad's house in SC
June 8 drive to brother's house in NC
June 10 drop #2 at summer camp in NC for staff week
June 11 drive #1 & #3 to WV for a different Boy Scout camping opportunity.
June 12 leave car at summer camp in NC & fly back to Shreveport to leave for Philmont on June 15

For the sake of everyone's sanity, I'm not going to throw in anything beyond that.

So when I drove to NC on June 7, I took with me a very small suitcase full of mostly nicer, wear-in-public kind of clothes. You know, because I was flying home 5 days later.

Except I didn't.


The cancellation of my Philmont trip left a huge hole not just in my heart, but also in my summer schedule. It would have me flying home to sit in an empty house all day for over three weeks with nothing to do. I contemplated several ideas: hike part of the Appalachian Trail, since I was already prepared for backpacking? Drive to New Mexico anyway, just to visit a new place? Come back home and throw myself into some creative business enterprise?

On the day that I officially learned that Philmont was a no-go, I also received an email newsletter from my BSA council in North Carolina which mentioned that they were still looking for a few staff members for summer camp (the one #2 was working at).

Let's go back to December 2017, shall we? Back to when I received an email from the director of said camp in NC, remembering that I had mentioned the summer before that I might be interested in working there, and would I like to put in my application?  I was honored to be asked, but had to turn him down because of my scheduled trip to Philmont.

With nothing on my calendar and a hesitant "okay" from my husband, I committed to working at camp for 3 weeks in a yet-to-be-determined position. I possess a plethora of skills and qualifications that would make me useful in many departments around camp, so I left it up to the director to place me where I would be most beneficial.

Where I ended up can only be described as serendipity.

(to be continued)

if it's meant to be, part 1

Last fall, I accepted an offer to serve as an adult adviser on a Philmont trek with a Venture Crew from Shreveport.



For those unfamiliar, Philmont is basically the mecca of Boy Scouting. It's their high adventure base in the mountains of New Mexico where you go to backpack/hike 60+ miles and participate in high adventure activities over the course of 10 days. It's expensive and requires many months of planning and training, but it's something I've always wanted to do. And, since I am within driving distance (12-ish hours) here in Louisiana, and because I'm not getting any younger, I jumped at the opportunity to go.

insert months of researching and buying gear for the trek, hundreds of dollars saved and paid, and many miles of practice hiking with a 30lb pack completed

Two weeks before our crew was slated to leave Shreveport on Friday, June 15, a wildfire was reported in the vicinity of Philmont. The Ute Park Fire proceeded to grow and burn through the center of the 140,000+ acre property. For days, I scoured the internet for updates, watched as staff was evacuated, and checked for reports on damage to buildings. I knew our trek was in jeopardy, but when staff were allowed to return to the campus, I was cautiously optimistic.

The official announcement came just 10 days before I was supposed to leave: all backcountry treks scheduled from June 8 through July 14 (and later, the entire season) were cancelled.

This was difficult information to process. I knew it was most likely going to happen, but when it did I wasn't mentally or emotionally prepared. For over a day I alternated between non-stop texting everyone who would listen to me grieve (selected Boy Scout friends who "got" what a huge disappointment this was) and walking around in a confused stupor, trying to figure out what to do with my summer which had been so meticulously planned for over half a year.

I didn't have long to figure it out, however, because my first jaunt of the summer was slated to begin with a 14 hour eastward drive on June 7.

(to be continued)

Campcraft

I've been out of state for 3 glorious weeks:

• 1 week at Boy Scout camp in Mississippi
• 1 week of visiting friends and family in North Carolina
• 1 week of Boy Scout camp in North Carolina

Always needing to have some small craft and not wanting to take a lot of supplies, I opted for working on an old-school friendship bracelet in Mississippi

and taught some staff members in North Carolina how to make lanyards with plastic lace, which I forgot to take pictures of

image snagged from https://wanelo.com/store/keys2please

Before leaving, I also finished my t-shirt rug!

a three hour tour

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale

a tale of a fateful trip,

that started from this tropic port,

aboard this tiny ship.

The mate was a mighty sailin' man,

the Skipper brave and sure,

five passengers set sail that day,

for a three hour tour,

a three hour tour.

12:30 pm

12 boys and 3 leaders board a tiny ship small church bus to drive to Dallas (estimated travel time, 3 hours). Trip itinerary includes touring the National Scout Museum, rock climbing, an overnight stay and a Dallas Rangers baseball game the following day. Depart from the non-tropic port of Shreveport. Gilligan at the wheel, the Skipper and Mary Ann on navigational duties.

1:30 pm, Longview TX

Gilligan, Skipper and Mary Ann hear an odd flapping noise and pull the Minnow over to see what's happening under the hood. Broken serpentine belt. Church bus insurance company does not respond to calls on the weekend. Finally find a mechanic who will bring the part to the bus and repair it. Move boys across the street to Taco Bell and settle in for the duration.

5:15 pm

After several trips to and from the parts shop, the bus is fixed. Museum visit is now void, but rock climbing is still on when we arrive in Dallas in 2 hours.

The weather started getting rough,

the tiny ship was tossed.

If not for the courage of the fearless crew

the Minnow would be lost.

The Minnow would be lost.

(from this point forward, all posts should be read with tornado alert sirens imagined in the background, because that was our soundtrack for the next 4+ hours)

5:30 pm, Lindale TX

Tornado warnings nudge us off the road for a dinner stop at Cracker Barrel. Actual verified tornadoes on the ground 40 miles to the west, blocking our passage to Dallas.

6:30 pm

Dinner eaten, and tornadoes north of the interstate. Back on the road. 

7:15 pm, Van TX

Back off the road. Our personal NOAA weatherman advised that new tornadoes were continuing to form 10 miles to the west of us. Gather boys into a gas station restaurant. Gilligan reconfigures a plan to bypass the line of storms by driving us south then up to Dallas, making the ETA for climbing wall after 10pm

8:00 pm

NOAA weatherman tells us to leave immediately and drive east as fast as we can. When NOAA man says go, you GO! 

8:15 pm

Decision is made to abort the mission and return to Shreveport for the night. Tornado warnings follow us east until we are past Longview, TX. We arrive back at the church around 10:30 pm, with plans to leave 10 hours later for the baseball game.

And we did. It was a beautiful sunny (if very windy) day, and the three-hour drive took only three hours. As we passed each place we had stopped the night before, I knew we were about to see some devastating damage that occurred along the interstate at the Canton Dodge dealership. 

Interstate traffic slowed to a crawl at the site, as each car drove slowly past, trying to take in the complete and utter devastation of the site. I didn't take any pictures; pictures can't do it justice. I did lift these from some other sites, though.

(image from http://www.thedrive.com)

(image from http://www.dallasnews.com)

The second image is the one I find more haunting, although I'm not sure why. I don't think I'll ever forget the skeleton of this building with its entrails pulled out.

fraternities I have joined (the past 2 weekends)

Two weekends ago, I walked into the first 3 days of a 6-day leadership training seminar. I knew absolutely no one, and within the first 2 hours I was feeling overwhelmed and like I had joined a cult.

• there was a strict dress code, which varied based on where you were and what the leader was wearing
• there was frequent singing
• there were lots of little rules- where you could sit, when you could sit down, in what order you lined up
• there was little free time

Sounds like a nightmare, right?

I'll admit, by lunchtime on the first day I was seriously wondering what I had gotten myself into.

But, as is the case with fraternities, strangers quickly became friends and by the end of the weekend it felt like the real world no longer existed. It was exhausting, but I felt supported and the expectations were clearly laid out.

This was Wood Badge, the premier adult leader training session for the Boy Scouts of America, and I can't wait for next month when we complete the second half of the course.

3 days later, a 5 hour trip with my husband turned into 7 because of traffic, and when we arrived at the hotel there was a problem with our reservation and we had no room for the night on a weekend that every hotel in and around the city was booked.

We went to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, y'all.

When you live in Louisiana (even if it is the exact opposite corner of the state), you might as well do it right! I'm into taking advantage of every opportunity while we are stationed here, and through his work, hubs managed to get invited to one of the major Mardi Gras balls in New Orleans.

I found myself a formal-length gown for Sunday night, but for the rest of the weekend I had no idea what to expect. The word most frequently used by friends to describe New Orleans is "dirty" and I was expecting to be immersed in a lecherous, filthy and not-entirely-safe pit of debauchery, I had no plans to like New Orleans. I just wanted to make it through the weekend.

We managed to get a room at a different hotel on Friday night and were blessed to be traveling with one of Matt's co-workers who used to work in the city, so we at least had half a clue about things like where to park.

Once again, there was a dress code for the weekend that varied based on where you were. In the streets, everyone was wearing purple, green and gold as much as possible. Funny hats, beads, masks, tutus, and full-on costumes were the norm. 

We did a LOT of walking, collected a lot of beads, and ate some really amazing food. The city is beautiful; there is a lot of great architecture and no shortage of unique shops to pop into. Yes, Bourbon Street was pretty gross, even before 10 am, but there was nothing obscene and I did not feel unsafe at all while I was in the city.

Mardi Gras really is a thing unto itself, aside from anything else going on in the city. There is a parade route where people literally camp out all day to watch the various Krewes roll by. We accidentally strolled onto a corner of the route and found an immediate sense of community. There were people of all ages, locals & out-of-towners. Everyone was very generous, sharing chairs, offering beers, and distributing the immense quantity of beads that were thrown.

I didn't love New Orleans the ways some people seem to. I'm glad I went, but I don't feel compelled to go back. But Mardi Gras... THAT was fun! I can see why people come back every year to celebrate. While it is a hassle to navigate the city with so many roads blocked off for parades, and parking was ridiculously expensive, I wouldn't hesitate to go back for Mardi Gras weekend, especially now that I know to bring a cooler, chair, sunscreen, and bags to collect beads.

As for the ball itself, let's just say it's not anything that Cinderella would recognize as a ball. This is how I summarized it:

Imagine you're at a rave, but everyone is wearing tuxedos and ball gowns and pulling coolers full of alcohol. And the Main Street Electrical Parade rolls through an indoor venue, with each float throwing the entire contents of Oriental Trading Company at you. And most everyone is drunk.

That's a Mardi Gras ball.  

Flicker

The flicker of a campfire, the wind in the pines 

The moon in the heavens, the stars that shine 

A place where people gather to make friends of all kinds 

A place where all our troubles are always left behind 

So give me the light of a campfire, warm and bright 

And give me some friends to sing with; I'll be here all night 

Love is for those who find it; I found mine right here 

Just you and me and the campfire and songs we love to hear

I just returned from another weekend in the woods with my Boy Scout troop. I was literally among the pines, under the stars, with friends, around the campfire. The daytime temperatures were in the low 70's and it didn't dip below the mid-50's at night. I can't imagine a more ideal way to spend a long January weekend.

This was my first "real" camping trip with the troop my boys and I joined when we moved to Louisiana, and I am so grateful for the instant camaraderie we find in Scouting. I know I will always find a group of trustworthy individuals who share my love of the outdoors and commitment to teaching young people. Scouts are my go-to people any time I have questions about anything (and I have a lot of questions about life in Louisiana; God bless my fellow leaders' patience with me!) Often our political, religious, and cultural viewpoints differ, but I have never been involved in a discussion with a fellow Scouter where tempers flared over ideology.

When I am camping, I do my best to use my phone as a camera & clock only, and stay off of social media. I returned to wi-fi in the real world this morning and was instantly bombarded with rants from Facebook friends (and truly, they are friends, just hurt & angry & divided) about whatever hit the news cycle over the weekend. We are less than 4 days from the inauguration of a very controversial, unorthodox, and divisive president. The ugliness is not going to end anytime soon.

Which brings me back to the woods: when you are camping, the real world doesn't exist. I didn't hear a single thing about anything in the real world (aside from the broadcast of an NFL post-season game for a devoted fan; it was actually a pleasant accompaniment to our dinner preparations). And it didn't matter. We were happy. We got along, We spent the entire weekend outside. We cooked all of our meals over a fire. If I felt it was refreshing and therapeutic for me, I am even happier about the effects of the weekend on the 9 young men we took with us.

This group of eleven to seventeen year-olds has 3 members who moved to the area from different states in the past 5 months. They go to 6 different schools. Some of them have medical and behavioral and familial challenges. I doubt that ANY of them would voluntarily have spent more than 15 minutes out of doors this weekend, had we not been camping. Most of them would have been glued to a screen of some sort. 

But this rag-tag group of young men had the time of their lives this weekend. A game that seemed to be a zombie mash-up of capture the flag and flashlight tag had them running around in an open field for hours in the dark. The older Scouts taught camping skills to the younger ones. They played card games and identified constellations and divided up campsite chores. They hiked to a vacant treehouse village campsite and created a war game involving pinecone grenades that kept them entertained and exercising. 

And while all of this occurred, the other leaders and I stood aside and supervised. We let boys be boys, outside, where they belong. We guided and corrected when necessary, but very little was necessary. 

This, friends. THIS should be our real world.