Camping
We went camping three hours away in PA. The troop went for the week. I was only able to make it up at 130 am Wednesday.
I arrived. I found the site. I slept in Jack’s tent.
We woke up at the same time to the sound of Mrs. Black’s voice. It’s 5:56 and we dressed ourselves before surprising everyone with my presence. We ate breakfast, and the boys went to do their morning activities. Brian and Greg were more than ecstatic to see me, especially since I had been misleading them to think that I would not be able to go camping.
Lunch time. When the troop was about to clean up, Brian and Greg took me to their tent. Jack followed. He was then asked to help clean, or at least to supervise since he was the Senior Patrol Leader. He refused.
The Scoutmaster was furious. He brought up points about Jack: irresponsible, doesn’t have leadership qualities, stubborn, disrespectful. The Scoutmaster even threatened to withhold Eagle rank from Him.
Eventually, the adults approached me. Every adult that I have ever respected in that troop came to me.
Eventually, the adults approached me. Every adult that I have ever respected in that troop came to me.
“You’ve gotta talk to him Kev,” the old Scoutmaster said to me. She was Scoutmaster when I was still in Scouts. “You’re the only one that can get through to him. You always were. He respects you more than he respects me, which shouldn’t happen, but he does.”
She called me his keeper. I spent the rest of the day with Jack, Greg, Brian, Nicole, and Alex. In Jack’s tent. When I was not listening or talking to them, I thought of how to stop him from upsetting the Scoutmaster.
She called me his keeper. I spent the rest of the day with Jack, Greg, Brian, Nicole, and Alex. In Jack’s tent. When I was not listening or talking to them, I thought of how to stop him from upsetting the Scoutmaster.
A storm passed through. Our shirts clung to our bodies, but Jack and I knew better: we weren’t wearing shirts.
We napped, cuddling, until dinner time. The Scoutmaster yelled at him again. I do not remember what for. He refused to apologize.
We napped, cuddling, until dinner time. The Scoutmaster yelled at him again. I do not remember what for. He refused to apologize.
The troop went to the other side of camp again. I told the guys that I needed to talk to him now, that I would meet them later at camp. I started by bringing up things that had nothing to do with anything. Then I get in to it.
“You know how you’re always trying to be like me? Or act how you think I would?”
Before answering, he gave me a weary and defeated look.
“Yea.”
“Then why are you and Frank (the Scoutmaster) still fighting? Just do what I would do.”
“I don’t know what that is Kev. I’m not you.”
I explained to him that manipulation is probably the easiest thing on the planet to master. That if he apologized to Frank, he shouldn’t feel like he lost. In fact, the apology is part of a bigger a picture. A game. One that could be his to win and manipulate if he just Played. Get Frank to respect and like him and he should do the same to Frank. To his face, at least. I explained the solution in My terms. The way I would understand it best. And so did he.
By now we had walked to three different locations. The totem poles by the Central dining hall. The tables by the Trading Post. The woods by the fishing spot at Wilkinson’s cabin. An hour ago it was time for me to leave. He hugged me. I hugged him back out of courtesy. I saw out of the corner of my eye a group of scouts. One turned to look at us, and then the whole group did.
“WHAT, you’ve never seen guys hug before!?”Jack yelled.
He held me tighter than I felt was appropriate. I broke away, leaned against a tree. He came closer, his legs stationed between mine. We talked about nothing and everything like that. He hugged me again and I tried to get away, but he already had his arms wrapped around me. He rocked me slowly from side to side and pulled me close to him, my back to his chest, and hugged me from behind. He rested his head on the back of my neck and breathed a few times. I realized that I was not stopping him, that I was in fact letting him hug me in my favorite position. That we were holding my waist together.
“You know I’m happy that you came up here, right?” he asked.
“I do now.”
“I missed you so much, you have no idea.”
“I think I have an idea.”
“You know I don’t do this with anyone else? And that I love you, right?”
I laughed at him.
“FINE!” he screamed at me.
“What?”
“I hate when you do that.”
When I make him feel like an idiot for sharing his feelings. Which is often.
We spoke the next day and I told him that his hug was nice. He said nothing. I took the leap and asked him why he does that. Why he will be close but not close enough. Why, if I said something borderline nice, he doesn’t know what to say.
“I have no idea. Because I don’t want you or me to get attached. We’ve already went through this and I don’t want it to happen again.”
“So,” I reply, “when you say you don’t want you or me to get attached, you’re saying that You could get attached? Again?”
“You know how you’re always trying to be like me? Or act how you think I would?”
Before answering, he gave me a weary and defeated look.
“Yea.”
“Then why are you and Frank (the Scoutmaster) still fighting? Just do what I would do.”
“I don’t know what that is Kev. I’m not you.”
I explained to him that manipulation is probably the easiest thing on the planet to master. That if he apologized to Frank, he shouldn’t feel like he lost. In fact, the apology is part of a bigger a picture. A game. One that could be his to win and manipulate if he just Played. Get Frank to respect and like him and he should do the same to Frank. To his face, at least. I explained the solution in My terms. The way I would understand it best. And so did he.
By now we had walked to three different locations. The totem poles by the Central dining hall. The tables by the Trading Post. The woods by the fishing spot at Wilkinson’s cabin. An hour ago it was time for me to leave. He hugged me. I hugged him back out of courtesy. I saw out of the corner of my eye a group of scouts. One turned to look at us, and then the whole group did.
“WHAT, you’ve never seen guys hug before!?”Jack yelled.
He held me tighter than I felt was appropriate. I broke away, leaned against a tree. He came closer, his legs stationed between mine. We talked about nothing and everything like that. He hugged me again and I tried to get away, but he already had his arms wrapped around me. He rocked me slowly from side to side and pulled me close to him, my back to his chest, and hugged me from behind. He rested his head on the back of my neck and breathed a few times. I realized that I was not stopping him, that I was in fact letting him hug me in my favorite position. That we were holding my waist together.
“You know I’m happy that you came up here, right?” he asked.
“I do now.”
“I missed you so much, you have no idea.”
“I think I have an idea.”
“You know I don’t do this with anyone else? And that I love you, right?”
I laughed at him.
“FINE!” he screamed at me.
“What?”
“I hate when you do that.”
When I make him feel like an idiot for sharing his feelings. Which is often.
We spoke the next day and I told him that his hug was nice. He said nothing. I took the leap and asked him why he does that. Why he will be close but not close enough. Why, if I said something borderline nice, he doesn’t know what to say.
“I have no idea. Because I don’t want you or me to get attached. We’ve already went through this and I don’t want it to happen again.”
“So,” I reply, “when you say you don’t want you or me to get attached, you’re saying that You could get attached? Again?”
“Of course I could,
you have no idea.”
