Boy Scout camp has been on my mind this evening. I guess it's the hot and humid weather that brought summer camp to mind. It was always hot and humid the weeks I went to camp.
I've been remembering sleepless nights, mess hall meals served with tepid lemon-lime Tang, and latrines that smelled like - well, you know.
You can probably tell I wasn't a fan of summer scout camp.
After my first year, I learned to leave room in my foot locker for cookies, comic books, and bug repellent.
Which was how I came to enjoy a night of quality tent time while the other members of my troop were fending for themselves with nothing but compasses and a waterproof match tins.
We had been driven out to a remote corner of Camp Rodney just before dusk. Each scout had been given a pitifully small bag of supplies along with a map. The assignment was to use the compass to find our way to the pickup point by the following morning. Shelter was to come in the form of whatever could be constructed from the branches of fallen trees.
I was considering telling our Scout Master where he could stick his map when I recognized a familiar landmark. Realizing I knew how to find my way back to our tents, I decided to hold my tongue.
The scout leaders left with the transport vehicles and twenty scouts stood staring at each other before shrugging in resignation and setting off into the woods.
The twenty first scout, yours truly, lingered at the edge of the gravel road until the foolish twenty were out of sight. I then scurried down a hill and picked up a road that led to a road that led to another road and..... ended up at my tent just before nightfall.
There in my tent I spent the night reading comic books by flashlight and eating home made cookies while twenty other scouts battled insects and poison ivy.
I didn't get my compass merit badge that year, but I thought I should have received an award for the creative use of common sense.
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