Scouting

About a year before we left Havertown I joined the local Boy Scout troop. I think it was probably my father's idea - he had been an Eagle Scout growing up in Hungary. And I should forewarn you that this post is about both scouting and my dad.

As I've mentioned before, I wasn't really into group activities but scouting was actually pretty cool. Everyone was genuinely nice - there was no significant bullying or any of the other usual negative "group" stuff . It was a really good experience.
Four of us were inducted into the troop on the same night. It was the first time I had ever been through a ceremony with candles, recitations and symbolism. It touched something familiar and comfortable deep within me - I suspect that rites of passage and the glow of a flame have a been at the core of the human experience for kind of a long time :-)
But not everything was perfect. The Scoutmaster's son joined the same night I did and within a year he had advanced 3 ranks while the rest of us were stuck at "Tenderfoot". Yeah - it's not all that surprising but it's not how it was supposed to work...

BTW - I was a member of the "Beaver Patrol". Yes - there was a time when adolescent boys could say that with a straight face and nary a snicker...

I remember the camping trip to Valley Forge in the summer of 64. The National Scout Jamboree was in progress and we participated in one of the ceremonies. I stood there reflecting on the thousands of men who died during that awful winter - it was a deeply emotional experience.

There were other trips but the one I remember the most was a late fall trip to Chesapeake Bay (probably the Rodney Scout Reservation). The Bay was absolutely magnificent that time of year - the sunset was indescribable... But here's the main reason I remember it:
The troop spent the night in an uninsulated lodge - there were wooden bunks and we were all snuggled into our sleeping bags. It got below freezing that night and the only only heat in the lodge was a wood stove. As the evening wore on all the other adults eventually drifted off to sleep but Dad stayed up alone all night stoking the fire. And that's what really stuck in my mind about that trip.

Despite all the issues I've had with my Dad - all the anger I've felt towards him over the years - I have to admit that I never stopped admiring him. He was a man who never showed doubt or weakness. He was fearless without being reckless. He did what had to be done - even when others were unwilling or unable to do it. And he did so without complaint.

I was talking to my step-mother recently and she told me that after he passed away she had the unenviable task of notifying all of his old acquaintances. One of them was a man who had flown with him during WWII (they'd also been in the same POW camp). When he found out my father had passed away he started crying and said "When we flew with Taubi we knew we were going to be alright." (Taubi was Dad's 'call sign' - a German nickname based on our Hungarian surname.)
Dad was still a cadet (barely out of his teens) when he started flying combat. And his mere presence allayed the fears of the other (older and more experienced) pilots. He was the kind of guy who could head into danger with no visible doubts or fears. His intensity and icy confidence affected everyone around him.
And after dad was captured by Patton's 3rd army (in Czechoslovakia) he was the youngest of the "non-German" officers in the POW camp, yet he was the one who organized and led the raids on nearby farms and villages to gather food and supplies for the injured and sick prisoners.

I guess it's no surprise that "Profiles in Courage" was one of his favorite books. Courage was a topic he talked about often. There was nothing he admired more and it was one of his defining characteristics. (One that I did not inherit - I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing...)

If there's a point to any of this it's that my parent's were complex people who had countless unique, amazing and admirable traits. And despite all the negative stuff I've blogged about over the past few months I did always admire them both tremendously - and I want that to be absolutely clear.

Sigh - it's sad (and ridiculous) that almost 30 years after my mother's death, 20 years after my sister's death and 10 years after my father's death I'm still struggling to reconcile all of this :-)