Gold and Blue

I was a proud member of the boys in gold and blue. Troop 222, Den 13, the red patches on my shoulder would declare. My den would meet at Mrs. Bronum’s house on the short end of Asam Avenue, a quick walk from school.
I couldn’t wait to be a Cub Scout. It sounded so exciting, and the dark blue uniform would satisfy that militaristic urge deep within me.
I had read Boy’s Life magazines at my cousin Charlie’s, and the tales of scout adventures fueled my imagination. Hiking and camping in the wilderness. Exploring the wilds of our national parks like Lewis and Clark, discovering new trails like Rogers Rangers in the French and Indian Wars. A chance to rise through the ranks to Boy Scout, and even beyond that to Explorer. I could learn to use BB guns and rescue people in distress, and I’d be a real life hero to the girls at school.
I was determined to earn my wolf, bear and lion badges. I figured I would have to endure grueling rituals like the Sun Dance to prove I was worthy to wear the emblems of these ferocious beasts, and I’d go on fifty mile marches with full packs through primeval forest, and climb the highest mountain range.
I stood with Tommy and Billy and Kurt and the others and swore my oath with two fingers in the air in anticipation of the adventures to follow.
The reality of it all was quite a letdown. Here we all were resplendent in our quasi-military garb, ready for excitement, but we were given manuals that told us how to earn our badges. We had to make crafts like we were still in Kindergarden. Stuff to memorize and good deeds to perform.
Mrs. Bronum was nice and she did the best she could, but she wasn’t leading us into the wilderness, this was like going to school. Where were the tents? Where were the campfires? Where was the adventure?
The best part was going to class in my uniform. On my walk to school I could believe I was a scout in the Union Army in the civil war, or a dismounted cavalryman marching to take his place in the battle line at Gettysburg. My yellow neckerchief made me feel like I was riding with John Wayne in She Wore A Yellow Ribbon, like I was the kid in the army with Rin-Tin-Tin.
We didn’t get to go camping. We were supposed to go with the Boy Scouts once, but it was canceled for some reason or another, and never rescheduled.
My den did go to the local Nike missile base, where we got to see our nuclear arsenal standing ready to blow the Russians to kingdom come.
We also got a chance to go to Fort Mercer in National Park to see where our soldiers defended the Delaware River against the British, and how we drove them and their Hessian allies back to where they came from.
I got to ride with the Boy Scouts in one of our Fourth of July parades. We were supposed to march in formation, but there wasn’t enough of us to form one, so we rode in their truck and waved at everyone.
The Pinewood Derby was our most exciting event. You got a piece of pine that you carved into a race car. You painted it up and raced it in a competition with all the other dens in your troop. My Uncle Marshall, who was a mechanic at Ace Motors in Woodbury helped me. He carved out the shape and then I sanded it and applied the layers of sealant and paint. I decided it would be white. Plain and simple. No flash- just all car.
The race was held on wooden tracks that the cars would go down. It was all gravity and speed. In the first heat my car won handily, leaving the other guy far behind. My second race was close, but I won again. If I won my third race I’d be in the finals for the championship. I placed my white beauty on the track and waited. As the cars were released, mine quickly took the lead, and I felt a victory dance coming on. Just as it looked like I had it in the bag the wheels on my car flew off, sending my car off the track, eliminating me from the competition. It was like getting dunked by Joyce Hoefers all over again.
I earned all my badges and was heading toward Webelos, the last step before becoming a real Boy Scout. I wanted to wear the Khaki and the red neckerchief. I wanted to blaze trails and do good deeds. The lure of the Explorers and their air-force like uniforms beckoned, and I was eager to answer the call.
Before I could make Webelos, the scout program in Woodbury Heights folded. Not enough money or not enough interest, I don’t know, but it was all over.
I had raised my arm and sworn my oath. I’d be square and obey the laws of the pack. I had signed on for excitement and adventure, but I never got the chance to roar. It all ended with a whimper.
The scouts came back to Woodbury Heights in time, but by then I no longer had the interest, no longer felt the allure. It was over for me, it was my brother Carl's turn now.
But once upon a time I can say I was in the pack; a member of the gold and blue.