Cub Scout Terminus
I don't much like going through my childhood memories. Too many times, I stumble across something deeply upsetting. Lately, a hoard of such reminiscences has been storming my consciousness, and the best way for me to work through them is to write them out in my blogs. I just recently tripped over this one, and with it came all the anger, frustration, and hurt that my fourth-grade self had apparently buried.
I used to love being a Cub Scout. Back then, the meetings and elementary school were the entirety of my social life. I loved the companionship, the field trips, the crafts, and most of all, learning. So it's rather a shame that I never made it all the way to Boy Scouts.
Our den mother had to stop den mothering for some reason, and so my mother selflessly stepped forward to take her place. Too late, she thought better of it and changed her mind. But by then she had committed to it, and so she was stuck. Unless...
My parents explained the situation to my young self, and made a deal with me. If I quit the Scouts to free Mom from her hasty promise, then they would do the things with me that I used to with my troop. I did *not* want to withdraw, but for my mother I reluctantly agreed.
Lo! Crisis averted! Life returns to normal for my parents, who then thought nothing further of it.
Their promise to me was immediately completely forgotten. Not once did we open my old Cub Scout book and work on any projects, nor attend any conventions of any kind, nor do anything social, nor visit museums, nor take field trips of any kind, nor actually do anything at all to fulfill their side of the bargain. Not once.
Looking back thirty-five years later, I've got to say that that's a really shitty thing to do to one's son.
I used to love being a Cub Scout. Back then, the meetings and elementary school were the entirety of my social life. I loved the companionship, the field trips, the crafts, and most of all, learning. So it's rather a shame that I never made it all the way to Boy Scouts.
Our den mother had to stop den mothering for some reason, and so my mother selflessly stepped forward to take her place. Too late, she thought better of it and changed her mind. But by then she had committed to it, and so she was stuck. Unless...
My parents explained the situation to my young self, and made a deal with me. If I quit the Scouts to free Mom from her hasty promise, then they would do the things with me that I used to with my troop. I did *not* want to withdraw, but for my mother I reluctantly agreed.
Lo! Crisis averted! Life returns to normal for my parents, who then thought nothing further of it.
Their promise to me was immediately completely forgotten. Not once did we open my old Cub Scout book and work on any projects, nor attend any conventions of any kind, nor do anything social, nor visit museums, nor take field trips of any kind, nor actually do anything at all to fulfill their side of the bargain. Not once.
Looking back thirty-five years later, I've got to say that that's a really shitty thing to do to one's son.