Arrows and Flags

Do a Good turn daily.



Yep that’s me, I thought. under a tarp in the pouring rain. And wondering, as the meme says, how I got here.

Undoubtedly I’ve made questionable life choices. Haven’t we all?

It’s not a universally accepted truth that one should avoid any club or organization that involves an initiation. But it ought to be. Especially when the words ordeal accompanies said initiation. One only has to look at what college frats make their initiates do during rush week to see that. Well, Order of the Arrow doesn’t rush, thankfully. I’d already been talked into being the assistant scoutmaster for the girl’s troop. I guess getting my son to Eagle was good enough for them. Plus I liked camping and kayaking, so I was in. I have no leadership skills to speak of, but I was willing to show up. That right there is fifty percent of being a scoutmaster. The rest is the ability to deal with paperwork and listen to everyone complain about everyone else. There’s a lot more gossip than one would think in scouting. I imagine it’s the same in any youth organization. Adults will jockey for power however little it is. Sad considering no one is paid but there it is.

 After a year, I was elected to join the Order which has been called the honor society of Scouting. They do a lot of volunteer work and emphasize leadership. I would have to go through the Ordeal. Part of that was sleeping outside one night and fasting. My family encouraged me to do this. It’s an honor, my mother wrote to me in an email. My son Michael, who had previously been a member, said it was fun. That last I took with a grain of salt. For all I knew he was trying to get back at me for something. Perhaps for the time I dragged him out to look for the homework he claimed “blew out of his backpack.” Or it could’ve been the many times I yelled at him over doing chores, his schoolwork, or for being lazy. Perhaps he liked the idea of an old woman like me sleeping on the cold hard ground. I could just imagine him sitting there chuckling at the idea. I’ll tell her it’s fun. I just won’t mention for who.

 I figured my mother also had ulterior motives. Who knows what long-ago memories she has of me being a brat. She had always been after me to lose weight so she probably liked the fasting part. In any case, I agreed. And now here I was cowering under a tarp, waiting for the rain to stop. Then I could-I don’t know. Figure out what to do next, alone as I was. Of course, I wasn't. That was just an illusion.

But it worked.

Especially when you’re searching for meaning. For some kind of hope.

The next day we cut up the American flag in silence. We separated the stars from the stripes and got them ready for disposal. If I was looking for hope it was a bad sign.

***

Be Prepared.

The scouting motto doesn’t tell you there’s only so far you can go. Especially when you’re carrying the weight of your preparedness on your damn back and your knees hurt. I was also carrying the weight of a good meal before I got here. One of many, unfortunately. We met at the camp's entrance, told to turn off our flashlights, and lock our phones in cars or give them to our parents, whatever the case may be. Thus we set off into this timeless night. We were on a long dirt road, a clear sky above. Tall black trees stretched over us, their branches reaching out as if to snag our clothes or bags. It reminded me of that living forest Frodo finds himself in when he leaves the Shire. Not comforting, considering those trees were evil.

And you’re an idiot. It’s a scout camp not Lord of the Rings. How many times have you been at Oaklaha? 

Too many times. I answered myself.

Right. So Get over yourself.

 I shifted my backpack with the extra socks and switched my sleeping bag to my other arm. I probably was only carrying thirty pounds, but it felt more like 60. It was February and cold but it didn’t stop the Florida mosquitos. I had spray but I couldn’t get to it. I took deep breaths and contemplated my recent knee pain instead. Ever since I had hurt it getting into my kayak from waist-deep water the cold affected it. I wore a neoprene brace I had “borrowed” from work but it wasn’t doing a lot of good. On the other hand, the pain wasn’t increasing with the activity. I took it as a good sign.

It’s no fun getting old. Especially when you complain to your boss and he conveniently ignores you just like everyone else does, including the doctor. Good old Michele will keep going just like she always does. Right. Good old Michele would like to put her foot up some people’s butts but you don’t see that happening, do you?

We circled the camp which I supposed meant about a half mile of walking, taking the long way. I can only assume they meant to torture us. Eventually we turned down a path and entered a clearing. Within it was a large circle of tiki lights. We walked around the outside and stopped, facing the lights.

Finally, I can rest.

 In the circle's center was an empty fire pit with four silent figures standing around it. It was dark but they seemed to be dressed as Native Americans of some indeterminate tribe. Or rather what they believed Native Americans would wear down to the beige leather jackets and moccasins. I believe one was a young girl but it was hard to see faces beyond the lamp's light. No one moved or sat down so neither did I.

Wonderful. Standing is as painful as walking.

Oh shut the crap up. said a voice inside of me. you’re beginning to annoy even me.

Fine. But I'm killing both Michael and my mother. They encouraged this. And then-

One of the figures spoke then startling me.

“Who are these people who come here?”

Our leader spoke then. “They have been chosen by their fellow scouts…”

I had stopped listening. I was thinking of the booklet my leader had given me earlier. It was small, about the size of my palm. On the inside was written a question: But why are you here?

God only knows, I thought.

The booklet had an answer. Because you're needed. The call was given, “who is helpful and kind. A friend to all?” And your fellow scouts saw something in you that was straight and true.

They saw a sucker. But there was more. What was it again?

If you are weak in heart and spirit you will not reach the goal. But if you are brave and strong and cheerful you will remember this Ordeal as one of the happiest events of your life.

We’ll see about that, I thought. But then I could use some happiness. I had been alone for so long I supposed my virginity had grown back. One son had moved out and the other was struggling to find his way. And for the life of me, I didn’t know how to help him. Hell, right then, I couldn’t remember how to spell life much less do anything else. I was tired. And I didn't think that would ever change.

***

A scout is brave

After the ceremony, we broke up into groups. I was with six other women and three girls. Our female leader Sandy led us back down the dirt road to an area. One by one she took us to spots about fifteen feet apart. We would spend the night sort of alone and in silence. I didn’t care; I was just pleased to see we were near a bathroom. I changed into jogging pants and my blue class B t-shirt that said Troop 1234 on the back. After that, I spread out my tarp and my sleeping bag. Then I laid on my back looking up at the sky. Although there were clouds I could see the stars. The trees were like black lace against a dark gray sky. Or maybe veins in a black heart?

Definitely, black lace and a wind that bore the smell of a thousand campfires. I always liked that sharp, hot smell. Somewhere an owl hooted. I could also hear the distant sound of cars, a train. Civilization wasn’t so far away after all. This wasn’t as uncomfortable as I’d feared. My tarp was spread on dirt, not grass and sticks. I felt warm and cozy. I could meditate although I mostly wanted to go to sleep.

I was here because I needed to do something special. As I said, I needed hope. In a country of school shootings, Covid, and social media I needed to know the kids were okay. That there was something bigger than my worry. That this storm would end.

Just then it started to drizzle. I pulled the tarp over myself, making sure my backpack and shoes were covered. When it stopped I got up to use the bathroom. I saw no one but a ghostly figure sitting on the side of the road. I got closer and saw it was just one of the women in a poncho, sitting upright, her face covered, head down. I guess her sleeping bag had gotten wet. I said nothing. We weren’t supposed to talk and to be honest, her sitting motionless was unnerving. I just walked to the bathroom, then got back under my tarp, thinking as long as all it did was drizzle I would be fine. We’d weather the storm. I fell asleep warm and dry enough.

Then it started to pour.

So much for the storm ending.

***

A scout is cheerful

I'm not proud for this. That's condescending. After all homeless people, refugees, and the poor have no other choice. Sure I was cold and wet but that only had to be tolerated for one night. For some, it was one in far too many with no end in sight.

Same with fasting. It’s for cleansing, for reflection. But some people have no choice but to fast. To sleep in the pouring rain. To labor for very little money.

Here I was paying for this ridiculous experience.

On the other hand, I could’ve sat at home and done nothing. Maybe I should have. What was the point? This would change nothing.

Later I would be told it was to teach us, at least briefly, to be thankful for what we have. I was extremely thankful when a hand shook me gently. A voice said, “are you awake?”

“Yes,” I answered, looking up at Sandy who was leaning over me.

“Gather up your things and come to the pavilion,” she answered.

I got up, feeling relieved. Like someone was there in the storm after all. I had no idea of the time, but it didn’t matter. I put on my shoes without lacing them and grabbed my backpack. I took the four corners of my tarp and dragged it with my sleeping gear inside along the road. It was heavy but fortunately, the pavilion wasn't far. I got under cover and dropped my things in a corner. Then I found dry clothes and changed in the bathroom. I didn’t have a comb but I pushed my wet hair back and tied a bandana around it. It would end up frizzy but at least be out of my eyes. Then I went out into the pavilion. It had no walls but we were protected from the rain. There were several rows of long picnic tables enough to seat all fifty of us with room to spare. In the back was an enclosed kitchen. Above us were rafters that held poles and PVC pipes to God knows what. There were also ceiling fans with enough layers of dust to grow a plant in. I found a hook and hung my sleeping bag up. Then I sat with the other women in our group for who knows how long. Some of us tried to sleep, others just stared into space. No one complained, neither the kids nor the adults. Of course, it’s hard to do when you’re under a vow of silence. I tried to sleep but couldn’t. 

This will be one of the happiest times of your life.

I will say I was very happy when dawn came. The waiting was over and we could do something. By then it had stopped raining. Eventually, the leaders brought us paper bags and we had breakfast, such as it was. A hard-boiled egg, bread, and a carton of juice. They took pity on us and offered us hot tea or cocoa.

That was a feast.

After that, we got to work.

****

A scout is clean

It’s hard to work together in silence. Eventually, we did talk, although softly. Nothing more than, “where should we put these pots?” Nothing more than was absolutely necessary to get the job done. For me, it was hard because I like music and singing. But then I saw the kitchen which erased all that from my mind. I doubt it was cleaned since the camp opened whenever that was. And that was the adult's lot while the youth cut trails in the woods. We threw out condiments that expired three years ago, dumped frozen popsicles that could’ve been older than me for all I knew, and washed down the walls.

It’s amazing how no one pays attention to condiments like mustard or ketchup. One expects them to last forever. One expects many things to last forever. Marriage, jobs, a house.

Sometimes one hopes things don’t last forever, but they seem to anyhow. Like sons living at home or being single. Like that jar of molasses one doesn't know what to do with or the horseradish you bought because your ex-husband liked it. Now you're left to wonder if it's good or not.

In this case, we threw it away. Ruthlessly, without thought.

After that, we cut American flags.

There were so many of them too, more than I'd ever seen. An outdoor trash can's worth and more. All of them were old, torn, and used up. So they had to be disposed of. Usually, old flags are burned but these couldn’t be. Sandy explained it to us. "They’re nylon. We don't burn them because the fumes are toxic.”

“Okay,” said one of the women. She was younger than me, with blond hair. “So what do we do?”

“Cut the stripes off,” Sandy said. “Then they won’t be flags anymore. And we can…recycle them.”

I assumed recycle meant taking them to the landfill, which was later confirmed. In any case, I took out my lousy pocket knife that said Grandfather Mountain on the side. I began slicing through the blue stars but Michele stopped me. “Don’t do that!” she said, or at least as emphatically as one can when whispering.

“What?”

“You don’t cut the stars,” she said. “Just cut the blue field off the stripes. Leave it in one piece.”

Bad luck, I thought. The last thing we need these days. No, something more. One nation, indivisible. Works for me.

Lunch was a cold cheese sandwich. I hate Kraft cheese and Wonder Bread. The Kraft appears to be made from plastic with its shiny, too-smooth feel. Wonder bread is too soft. I usually have a problem with too soft foods like custard, pudding, and white bread. But that day I ate every bite and remembered the times I had forgotten to replenish my sons' school lunch accounts. When I did this is what the school would give them. A damned cold cheese sandwich.

This is what it was like for them, I thought. Mea culpa

****

Dinner was at four or so. It was a small affair although at that point it seemed like another feast. We had nachos with melted cheese, a bit of chili, fruit, and juice. After that, we were allowed to talk. And still, no one complained. This is unusual. Some kid always complains about something. In one instance a child yelled at us that he didn't have to listen, that we were useless. Today, everyone seemed happy or at least content. After this, we gathered up our backpacks and sleeping bags. Mine had thankfully nearly dried. I found my uniform shirt squashed in the bottom of my pack and put it on for the final ceremony. Then I tied up the sleeping bag and we lined up to walk to the ceremony place. We had just started out when the straps I was using for the bag came loose and it all unraveled. Embarrassed and angry at myself, I stepped off to the side to fix it. A boy half a head taller than me came next to me. "Need help?"

No, I don't. But what I said was, "Go on ahead." I just wanted to fix this alone, like I always do. "I don't want to hold you up."

Instead, he picked up my sleeping bag and the tarp. "Take your time," he said. "No one gets left behind."

I raised my head then. He had just a whisp of mustache showing. A boy becoming a man. "Thanks," I said. And we headed to circle. This time there was a fire, which blazed despite the wet wood. Or maybe someone used some lighter fluid. Whatever, it was a wonderful sight.

"Now you know your worth," said the girl dressed as a Native American. "You made it. Congratulations." Then they gave us the admonition which I won't repeat. I'll just say if you know the Golden Rule you'll have the idea.

Do unto others...

I left knowing tonight's dinner was going to taste very good. That my problems would still be there when I got home. All I could do was guide Michael, not live his life. And I was single. And maybe that was okay.

I won't go as far as to say this was one of the happiest times of my life. But I've offered to be a leader at the next ordeal.

Everyone should know their worth. And no one will be left behind.