The Troop
When my kids moved on from the Cubs to the Boy Scouts, I found out how different they were. It was a different matter over there. At least it was for our troop. Dewey, a retired business man, ran the troop like a business. Once he planned a Trip, water rafting up at Ten Mile River, and when I asked him about the fund raising,
“Oh, we don’t doodat,
man!”
“Why?” I looked at
im.
“Oh, once a monf me
ana scouts goes round tada local bidnesses, even da choiches, an get donations foda troop.” He responded.
He was proud of the
fact the troop had a big fat bank account. But parents had to pony up for all activities, nothing was free. The troop
didn’t even pay a part of the cost. That really had my goat, he never spent a dime,
and I always wondered what the funds were for in the first place, because any
funds kids raised had to be used for them.
“God Bless America,” was
our troop’s song, new troopers had to memorize it, and we sang it at every meeting.
It was the first things we did. Our local lodge was our patron, and they gave us a free place to meet. One time
our local fire house had a roast, and when the lodge told the captain about our
troop, he made a point to meet with Dewey.
“We’re having a
little party, and would be delighted to have the troop join us.
Can the kids make it?”
“Sir, believe me, it
would be an honor.”
At the event one of
the scouts heard someone practicing God Bless America, he sought out the captain, and…
“God bless America,”
is our song, we sings it alla time capen.”
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