The above picture was taken at one of the Finger Lake in New York during July 1960. That made me 18 years old and a few pounds lighter than now. The one below was taken last week, June 2002. Pardon the tummy poking out. The tank top had the bottom half cut off as it was full of holes.

Scouting and the things I learned from it have followed me through the years. In one case the ability to use a compass saved my life, (another story). Simple things like knot tying, fire starting and woods lore I use almost everyday.

Another favorite place for me was Camp Cutler outside Rochester and near Lake Ontario. This was a local camp that was pretty much wooded land and a couple cabins on it. We went there quite often for troop weekend outings. One of our favorite activities was "Capture the Flag". We played this game day and night, summer and winter. It got pretty rough, and it wasn't unusual to get banged up sometimes. I really enjoyed winter camping and thought nothing of sleeping under a "lean- to" constructed from pine bows in the middle of the winter. I remember on one such occasion we were in the middle of a game of capture the flag when I needed to use an out house real bad. There was one close by, that wasn't being use as there weren't any tracks in the snow. It was a true "two holer" and I chose the the left hole to sit on. Almost at the same time a very large bundle of fur erupted from the right hole and out the door. It startled me so bad that I completed my duty very quickly and immediately started shouting. It scared the stuff right out of me. When the rest of the troop heard the shouting they came a running. When I told them what happened they erupted in laughter, remembering "ballso Bob". Investigation of the tracks leaving the two holer indicated that the bundle of fur was a Lynx, a very unfriendly cat with very sharp fangs and claws. I was so glad the cat chose the hole next to me to escape.

Cooking over an open campfire became an art form for me. Did you ever boil water in a paper cup over a fire? It can be done as long as the cup isn't waxed. I learned Dutch oven cooking , and of course cooking entire meals in foil. Sometimes there were more bugs and dirt than food in the meals. We of course stunk of smoke, bacon and eggs and much more.

I remember one time we were at Camp Cutler and it was about 11pm at night and we had retired to our tents. There were about 6 other scouts in my tent grab assing. The scout masters were out by the fire sitting on stumps. Someone asked what would happen if we threw a can of pork & beans in the fire. Nobody had ever done it so we waited for the scout masters to go get more coffee and we chucked the can of beans into the fire. The scout masters returned and didn't see the can in the fire. Six heads were poked out under the tent flap watching the fire. It took almost 15 minutes but it exploded with a loud ka-bam, sending pork and beans all over the scout masters, the tents and us. We quickly drew our heads back into the tent, but there wasn't any doubt in the scout masters mind who was responsible as we were laughing so hard that we were peeing our pants. We paid a price for that one, we were on their list for some time.

One of my friends father was Asst Scout master. Mr Henderson was a big man, maybe 6ft 6in 250 lbs. But he was a gentle giant and was good man. I spent a lot of time at my friends house, so I got to know his Dad pretty well. Mr. Henderson had been a wing walker on stunt airplanes in his hey day. The one flaw that he had was that he smoked. He left his son Paul and his mother at the young age of 49 years old. Lung cancer turned him into a skeleton before his death. That was my first close experience with death.

Another close friend was Jonathan Gordon who lived in a big farm house. This was a true extended family living together. Jon, his mom, his aunts & uncles, grandmas and grandpas, all under one roof. Jon never really knew his dad. Jon's dad died during World War II as an aircraft pilot. Jon was my best buddy and we did many scout thinks as non-scout things together. We used to climb to the top of the Scottsville town water tower and just sit up there and look at the world from a different perspective. We used to ski together on a local ski hill. We used to ride his horse all over Krenzer's Dairy farm chasing woodchucks trying to spear them with fish spears. We used to milk Krenzer's cows, ride the calves until we were covered with manure from falling off. We used to swim bare butt in Oatka creek all summer. We fished the creek all the way from Tom Martins house to the Genesse River catching rainbow trout you can only dream about today. I tried to kiss his cousin Kitty Brown in the third loft of Krenzers barn. I caught hell for that one. Jon locked me in Krenzer's silo that was full of fresh silage, boy did I stink. Jon and I did a lot of camping on our own especially in the winter.

For this guy there wasn't any drinking, smoking or drugs in his life at that point. Did scouts play a part in that, you bet. It was a different world, a different time and it was fun.

Grizzzzzzzz