Learning to Swim

              I recently attempted to figure out what was the best scouting experience I have ever had.  It’s easy for me to remember the more recent times as a Den leader, Cubmaster, Wood Badge Trainee, or Commissioner.  Thankfully, I was recently reminded of one of the positive driving experiences of my life as a Boy Scout.  The summer before my father passed, I spent two weeks at summer camp earning the BSA lifeguard certification.  It was hard work for a thirteen year old, and each day when my time at the lake was finished I would walk back to the campsite and collapse completely worn out.

    The second week was my chance to put my skills to work and I thought I was simply going to be watching over the other boys while they swam keeping them safe.  But I was given a different task that was much harder, but also a greater experience.  A young boy from another troop was one of the few scouts that did not know how to swim; I was tasked with teaching him how.  When I was first given the task I didn’t have a clue where to start. So I spent my time trying to figure out how to explain how to swim and learning how to motivate him to learn.  Thankfully, he wanted to learn, and once I explained to him how proud his mother would be of him I had his full attention.  For three days I worked with him figuring out how to explain the things that I had learned to do by second nature, stuff that I took for granted and could do without thinking.  After two days working with him on basic skills and asking the staff for advice, I managed to teach him how to do the crawl, float on his back and do the back stroke.  His form was bad his muscles were weak but he did it.

    Then it came time for the swim test on the third day.  I told him to relax do your best, and have fun.  Nervous and excited he walked up to the staff lifeguard and told him he was ready to take his test. The test began and I watched from the dock with my fingers crossed, hoping that he would pass, that his fear of the deeper water would not overwhelm him, and that yes, I could have an extra hour free for the remaining couple of days of summer camp.

    He passed the test, ran up to me with a really big smile and his swimmer’s tag with a strip of red on it indicating that he was now a beginner swimmer.  I gave him a high five, congratulations, and probably had a big smile on my face as well.  He ran off to show his scoutmaster and friends.   I then walked back to the Campsite, told my scoutmaster about the experience, and probably could not shut up about it for a long time.

    The next day at around the time that the young scout’s troop was at free swim, I walked down to the lake, sat on the beach and watched him swimming and playing with his buds in the Beginners Area.  I can remember no other Scouting experience as great as that one.

Lost Treasure

Today I was cleaning out a closet and pulling things out to donate to my church. As I pulled open an old foot locker that I had not opened in many years, I found something I had thought lost. Years ago I was cleaning up my home office and I placed a number of things into two boxes. One box to be thrown away, and one to be saved. The two cardboard boxes looked exactly the same. It was the end of a semester and I think my son was on the way, so I was under a great deal of stress. At some point I said to myself I must make sure to check the contents of the cardboard box before I throw it out or I will be very upset.

Well the exam came and I had gotten confused as to which box was which. A few weeks later as my son’s birth approached, I started a hurried effort to finish cleaning up, and get his room painted. I threw a bunch of boxes into the trash bin and rolled it out for collection. The next morning AFTER the trash truck had made its collection, I realized I may have thrown out the wrong box. My heart sank, I franticly searched the house room by room even in the attic in the heat of the day. I could not find the contents of the box. A box that held some of the dearest mementos I ever owned. They were gone.

For years now I would have to tell some of my scouting friends the sad tale of my lost scouting memorabilia. My ordeal arrow that I wore during the weekend I was inducted into the Order of the Arrow. My Webelos ribbon with all 15 of the then possible achievements on it that I had earned in just one year. Even a number of neckerchiefs including a 1976 jamboree neckerchief. It even had a neckerchief slide that my dad had carved and I had painted not long after he had died. All of it lost. I was heart sick over this for a long time.

Then today, I opened this foot locker and as I opened it, the metallic box with pictures of New York City on it, that my grandmother had given me to use for storing my scouting stuff, stared back at me. I’m not sure exactly what I said but my family kept asking what was up? Shaking I carefully pulled the box out and took it into the living room, I opened it and there were all the things I thought I had lost. But even things I had forgotten about. The most important thing I had lost but now found was the letter I received from Irving Texas. A letter that was more powerful than getting an acceptance letter from any college, it was the letter I received proclaiming that I was an Eagle Scout.


Copyright 2010 William T. Richards