Gone Home (redux)
Many, many years ago, I was transitioning between The Cub Scout pack and the Scout Troop.
At my second-ever meeting for the latter, it was a stressful time for me, on reflection: at the tweenie age of ten-and-a-half years old, I was in a busy Scout Hall and surrounded by a bunch of hulking teenagers, all of whom appeared very sure of themselves and rampaged around accordingly. It was also a busy week for family, at school and for my other activities, with the consequence that part-way through the evening, I just forgot what I was doing and burst into tears, next to a tree. I have a strong memory of the Scout Leader striding across to me, bearing a small bottle of lemonade and shoo-ing the other Scouts away and giving me a little time to regain my senses.
I remained a member of that Scout Troop until I was 16, continued through Venture Scouts and eventually became a Cub Scout Leader myself. Largely because that Scout Leader, over time, showed me that it’s more important to give to Scouting than it is to take.
So, naturally, when I heard that he had died at the age of 78 after a short illness, I made arrangements to travel back home for the funeral.
For the second time in my life, I’ve found myself forming a Scouting guard of honour, joining fellow Scout Leaders who owe our service to his example, taking one last salute to the person that we made our Scout Promise to.
Now, I’m on the train home and reflecting on what and who brought me here...and knowing that I’ll never be a fraction of the Leader that he was. Not that it’s going to stop me trying my best. To help other people, and to keep the Scout Law.
Farewell Jack. I’m glad you were my inspiration.