From: PMurray (pjm@WORLDRAMP.NET)
Date: Fri Mar 31 2000 - 07:20:47 CST
Hey all,
This past Thursday was my last meeting with Pack 230 as one of it’s members.
I was also crossover for my last Webelos den and also for the den that my
son was aligned for so many years. We started out this year knowing that my
son would join Troop 7 early, almost six months ago when he was 10 ½. We
didn’t count on him giving such an impassioned plea to his fifth grade class
and recruiting seven boys (which brought his recruitment total to 11). Six
of them and my son banded together to become den 13, the Black Cats. So I
was pressed into duty as a Webelos Den Leader, and he became the resident
instructor. “Bugs” (Harrison) was the one who had been there done that and
had several t-shirts to show for it (as well as patches to the hilt). I told
them at the first meeting that our work was cut out for us. We had a lot of
ground to cover to get to AOL in only 6 or 7 months. Well, one never showed,
and two moved away, but all three of the others crossed over last night to
Troop 7 having attained the highest rank in Cub Scouting. Of Harrison’s old
Den three who had been with him since Tigers along with two others also
crossed. We had an outdoor ceremony with a campfire. We used the poems for
each rank I wrote for the Crossover last year (ask I and I will send them to
you). I, and the other Webelos Den Leader crossed over the bridge first. We
then called our boys one, by one to be received by their respective Troops.
Dan, the current Cubmaster, was at one side of the bridge, where he took off
their neckerchiefs and handed them to them, and then the Scout Books, unit
numerals and Troop neckerchiefs (if used) were given to them on the other
side of the bridge by their new Troop mates. Then in closing I gave my last
Cubmaster’s Minute as a farewell by the light of the roaring campfire. No, I
wasn’t able to make it through without crying, and many in the audience were
in tears as well. This poem was posted on Scouts-L some five years ago, and
it has meant so much to me. So, I again pass it on to the next cadre of Cub
Scout Leaders, as I go with my son to his troop, and also leave the staff of
the CSRT to be the commissioner for the BSRT (THIRD THURSDAY EVERY
MONTH!!!).
A LITTLE BOY
By Ron Brown
Eagle District
Alamo Area Council
San Antonio, TX
When I was a child, I spoke as a child,
And acted in childish ways;
When I grew up, I put away
The trappings of childhood days.
But then, without asking permission,
A little boy entered my life,
And noisily garnered attention
>From me and his mother; My wife;
And magically, that little boy
Got me to sit on the floor,
To play with the toys of my childhood,
That I had abandoned before.
So that little boy has a playmate
Who's grown up and taller than he,
And I have this sneaking suspicion
A little boy still dwells in me!
So, I got my son to join Cub Scouts,
Ostensibly for his own sake,
And we do achievements together,
(Though Pinewood cars I mostly make)!
When we go to Den and Pack meetings,
His friends think that I'm a great dad,
'Cause I volunteered as a leader;
(I downplay how much fun I've had!)
I know, God chose to make me a person'
My folks helped with guidance they gave;
My wife made me husband and father,
And my boss turned me into a slave - -
But my little boy made me a Scouter,
Like his friends wish their dads did for them,
And that little boy deep down inside me knows
That I also do it for him!
Fla-Bob Pete
I used to a Bobwhite... NECS59
"If it's not for the boys, it's for the owls!"
