OLD SCOUT REUNION: ONE WIFE’S TAKE

It was early in the morning a couple of months ago. I was barely awake, but I could see the look of determination on Mike's face. "I had a message from Richard this morning," he said. "They've scheduled a Troop 220 reunion for July 23. Sam Wilkes [scoutmaster] will be there. I'm going."

"What part of 'your daughter is getting married this summer' don't you understand?" I wanted to screech at him. But, to be fair, there probably wasn't a reason we couldn't take a week or two in order to attend this event, especially since Hallie had settled on a late August wedding date. It's a busy summer but at least events are falling together date-wise. And I began to look forward to attending the reunion myself. Scouting was a big part of Mike's youth. I've heard the stories. And besides, we've kept in touch with the Wilkes family for years. However, on the day of the event I discerned that wives were not attending with the exception of Mrs. Wilkes. After all, it's all about male bonding, but I also know if I don't go I will miss the chance to ever meet most of these people. "Do you think I should go?" I asked Richard. Richard replied that wives were invited because it would not be much fun to sit alone in a motel room. I can be quite content in a motel room, thank you, with my laptop, the tv set, my iPod, my books, my crocheting. I can be happy anywhere if I have those things. But I really wanted to go to the reunion.

In fact, the profundity of it all impressed me. Fifty-plus years ago a young man made a difference in the lives of some boys and the appreciation has only increased with time. These men who bonded through Scouting in their youth are now in their late sixties, retired or at the end of their working years. Those of Mike's approximate age joined young and went through Scouting with Sam Wilkes as their scoutmaster. They agree the experience provided through Mr. Wilkes was unusual, including lots of camp-outs, activities, and even a trip to California one year – an exchange with another troop. The Troop was very active and a fine example of what Scouting should be. And at this age, they have the privilege not only to reunite with each but also with Mr. Wilkes.

"I just think this is the most wonderful event," I remarked to George. With a toss of his head in the direction of his son, George replied, "He does, too. When he heard about it, he said, 'Daddy, can I come?'" His son, himself an Eagle Scout, had flown from San Franciso to meet his father in North Carolina and travel with him to Mississippi for the reunion.

The meal was set for 5:30, but Mike and I arrived about 4:00. We thought we would never get there. Our route to the cabin in the Mississippi backwoods was marked by signs, thank goodness, but we missed the second one and had to backtrack. The cabin seemed fairly new but rustic. The front room was actually an open porch, which included seating and a nice kitchen. The only enclosed room was the bedroom with sleeping accommodations for eight. [Quilt lovers, note the quilts on the beds.] The bathroom (off the bedroom) was small but of solid construction. The cabin belonged to our host, Mack, a troop member who made good in the sanitation business, as the story goes. He's a down-to-earth, generous guy.

For more than an hour, I was the only woman there, but no matter. The old scouts greeted me, introduced themselves, asked me about the trip to the south. Jimmy had been a 'blister rust boy' in 1963 or '64, and he reminisced about Orofino (where I grew up) and the Clearwater mountain country behind Pierce, Weippe, Headquarters. It was Jimmy who inspired Mike to research the northwest which led to his eventual move to Idaho. I was impressed by how much Jimmy remembered about my home territory. He even described coming to the top of the Lewiston Hill and seeing the town below, then traversing the old Spiral Highway. It was fun to talk about home for a few minutes.

Skipper was there. I've heard stories about youthful escapades with Skipper. "I'm sorry," apologized Mike, "that I didn't let you use my handkerchief to swing out over the water on that vine. I didn't let you use it and you slipped and fell and I've always felt badly that you broke your arm and it was my fault."

"No-no," said Skipper. "I fell and broke my arm. It wasn't your fault."

Mike was busy after that and I didn't talk to him much. He slipped me the camera and told me to take pictures, so I did – and I did – and I did.

Before dinner, the guest of honor, Sam Wilkes, arrived with his family – his wife and their two sons. We feel like we've watched the boys grow up through annual Christmas cards.

Richard did a great job as master of ceremonies. Several of the scouts spoke, including Mike.

Then Sam was introduced and gave a wonderful talk about how he came to accept the position of scoutmaster and how he initially brought the troop into line. I guess I don't feel qualified to tell what he did as scoutmaster or to draw conclusions as to what it all means, but the program confirmed my thinking that this was a profound occasion.

Sam was presented with a watercolor painting of the old troop hut, the mat of which had been signed by those old troop members present before his arrival. KW

It was over by 8:15. It didn't need to go on longer. We thought it had been perfect. KW