Just wanted to introduce myself. I am 56 years old and have been registered in Scouting since 1960 when I was 8. Wow, next year I can get my 50 year pin.... All of a sudden I feel very old.
I grew up in Boy Scout Troop 1 in Santa Barbara, CA. I spent several years as one of about 5-6 Assistant Scoutmasters (the Troop had over 50 active boys).
I later served in different districts as part of the District Advancement committees, and later as District Advancement Chair.
Many many years ago I married a nice young lady (Kathy Butterfield) who was a District Executive in the Ventura County Council. Over the years we have lived in several states as Kathy's career moved forward. Ventura, CA; Santa Maria, CA; Los Angeles, CA; Saint George, UT; and now Keller, TX.
Kathy is now with the National Council, Center for Professional Development. Any Scouting Professionals that read this, if they have attended any national training in the past couple of years, will probably know her.
We have four children, only one son... He turns 15 in a week and is just finishing up his Eagle which he should have by the first of the year. I'd like to share something I wrote the week before my son was born:
MY SCOUTMASTER DIED TODAY
August 1994
I just got the phone call. My Scoutmaster, Roscoe Masonheimer, has
just passed away. Roscoe was Scoutmaster of BSA Troop #1 in Santa
Barbara, Calif. for over 50 years. To say that he loved Scouting
would be a gross understatement. Roscoe WAS Scouting, in the truest
sense of the word.
In the turbulent 1960's, while I was in Scouting, Troop 1, Mission
Council, Santa Barbara, Calif. was a haven for all that was wrong
in the world. At that time troop 1 had about 50 boys, many of whom
I still know to this day. Roscoe had that unique ability to really
know and to love every boy in his unit. Roscoe wasn't only
Scoutmaster, he was father, counselor, mediator, and hero. I didn't
know a boy in the Troop that didn't want to be just like Roscoe.
Yes, Roscoe taught us knots and lashings and first aid. But in a
larger sense, he taught us to be men, not just men, but honorable
men. When we learned a requirement, it wasn't just to pass a
test, it was to grow in our life's purpose. Roscoe wanted us
all to succeed, not just for him, but for our own self respect. To
this day, 28 years after passing my pioneering merit badge, I can
still splice a rope, and this is not something I use in my office
everyday.
In a time period when drugs were becoming a major problem, I can
still remember the only problem we had in my 7 years as a Scout. On
a 5 day spring trip, one of the Scouts threw away a sandwich.
Roscoe privately asked each Scout if he had thrown it away, each in
turn denied any knowledge of it. I still remember the hurt in
Roscoe's eyes. It was the first time, and only time that I know of
that one of his boys had lied to him, it crushed him.
In the late 60's and early 70's Troop 1 was an interesting
dichotomy, we had boys from the wealthiest families in town, and
boys from the poorest parts of town. But when you entered that
door, we were all Scouts. If your family couldn't afford a uniform,
Roscoe made sure you got one. We were a camping troop, and if you
didn't have the equipment, a way was always found for you to earn
it or borrow it.
Roscoe was not a wealthy man in dollars, yet every year, he spent
his vacation time leading us on a high sierra trip, a canoe trip,
or the most exciting thing possible, attending a national jamboree
as a unit. Every year Troop 1 had (and still does) a Christmas tree
lot. Every boy was expected to work the lot to earn points toward
going on the BIG summer trip. The funny thing was, you couldn't
keep us away from the lot.
Roscoe was a carpenter by trade. He was a product of the CCC camps
of the 1930's. Roscoe was one of those people that never quit until
the job was done, and he instilled that in his boys. Much of what
I am today, I owe to Roscoe. Several times in the past couple of
years, my wife told me I should write him and tell him how much he
had given me. Unfortunately, I was just getting to it this week,
and now it is too late.
The funeral is Wednesday at 11:00 am, just about the time my wife
is due to deliver our first son. If my son turns out to be half the
man that Roscoe wanted his boys to be, I will be a proud father.
Hello! New Guy Here
in New to the Forum?
Posted
Hello,
Just wanted to introduce myself. I am 56 years old and have been registered in Scouting since 1960 when I was 8. Wow, next year I can get my 50 year pin.... All of a sudden I feel very old.
I grew up in Boy Scout Troop 1 in Santa Barbara, CA. I spent several years as one of about 5-6 Assistant Scoutmasters (the Troop had over 50 active boys).
I later served in different districts as part of the District Advancement committees, and later as District Advancement Chair.
Many many years ago I married a nice young lady (Kathy Butterfield) who was a District Executive in the Ventura County Council. Over the years we have lived in several states as Kathy's career moved forward. Ventura, CA; Santa Maria, CA; Los Angeles, CA; Saint George, UT; and now Keller, TX.
Kathy is now with the National Council, Center for Professional Development. Any Scouting Professionals that read this, if they have attended any national training in the past couple of years, will probably know her.
We have four children, only one son... He turns 15 in a week and is just finishing up his Eagle which he should have by the first of the year. I'd like to share something I wrote the week before my son was born:
MY SCOUTMASTER DIED TODAY
August 1994
I just got the phone call. My Scoutmaster, Roscoe Masonheimer, has
just passed away. Roscoe was Scoutmaster of BSA Troop #1 in Santa
Barbara, Calif. for over 50 years. To say that he loved Scouting
would be a gross understatement. Roscoe WAS Scouting, in the truest
sense of the word.
In the turbulent 1960's, while I was in Scouting, Troop 1, Mission
Council, Santa Barbara, Calif. was a haven for all that was wrong
in the world. At that time troop 1 had about 50 boys, many of whom
I still know to this day. Roscoe had that unique ability to really
know and to love every boy in his unit. Roscoe wasn't only
Scoutmaster, he was father, counselor, mediator, and hero. I didn't
know a boy in the Troop that didn't want to be just like Roscoe.
Yes, Roscoe taught us knots and lashings and first aid. But in a
larger sense, he taught us to be men, not just men, but honorable
men. When we learned a requirement, it wasn't just to pass a
test, it was to grow in our life's purpose. Roscoe wanted us
all to succeed, not just for him, but for our own self respect. To
this day, 28 years after passing my pioneering merit badge, I can
still splice a rope, and this is not something I use in my office
everyday.
In a time period when drugs were becoming a major problem, I can
still remember the only problem we had in my 7 years as a Scout. On
a 5 day spring trip, one of the Scouts threw away a sandwich.
Roscoe privately asked each Scout if he had thrown it away, each in
turn denied any knowledge of it. I still remember the hurt in
Roscoe's eyes. It was the first time, and only time that I know of
that one of his boys had lied to him, it crushed him.
In the late 60's and early 70's Troop 1 was an interesting
dichotomy, we had boys from the wealthiest families in town, and
boys from the poorest parts of town. But when you entered that
door, we were all Scouts. If your family couldn't afford a uniform,
Roscoe made sure you got one. We were a camping troop, and if you
didn't have the equipment, a way was always found for you to earn
it or borrow it.
Roscoe was not a wealthy man in dollars, yet every year, he spent
his vacation time leading us on a high sierra trip, a canoe trip,
or the most exciting thing possible, attending a national jamboree
as a unit. Every year Troop 1 had (and still does) a Christmas tree
lot. Every boy was expected to work the lot to earn points toward
going on the BIG summer trip. The funny thing was, you couldn't
keep us away from the lot.
Roscoe was a carpenter by trade. He was a product of the CCC camps
of the 1930's. Roscoe was one of those people that never quit until
the job was done, and he instilled that in his boys. Much of what
I am today, I owe to Roscoe. Several times in the past couple of
years, my wife told me I should write him and tell him how much he
had given me. Unfortunately, I was just getting to it this week,
and now it is too late.
The funeral is Wednesday at 11:00 am, just about the time my wife
is due to deliver our first son. If my son turns out to be half the
man that Roscoe wanted his boys to be, I will be a proud father.
Wes Chormicle
BSA Troop 1
1965-1973
Thanks for letting me share!