Webelos Woods @ Camp Easton

My brother, Dave, invited me to camp with him, my nephew Noah, and a couple hundred Scouting brothers (and sisters) for a weekend at Camp Easton BSA, on the shore of Lake Coeur d'Alene. I jumped at the chance, because Camp Easton (see video) was my childhood playground, my week-end, week-long and summer-long refuge from four younger sisters and the obligations of being the eldest child.

I camped there with Troop 2 from 1959 to 1964, and worked as camp staff most years after that until 1972. My parents moved to Camp Easton to be the Camp Ranger in 1975, and we had family reunions and visits there for a few more years. But I haven't seen or explored Camp Easton since 1980, except to save placemarks in GoogleMaps and Google Earth and Bing.

The first weekend in October . . . unseasonably cold (in the teens) but beautifully autumn dry, thanks to some Arctic air pushing in from Canada. I fluffed-up my 1970's REI prime silver-gray goose-down sleeping bag, still holding 6 or 7 inches of loft after all these years, and scoured the house for winter wear seldom needed in western Oregon. Bought 3 pair wool socks at Costco, and headed for Post Falls.

Troop 13, Post Falls, was one of a dozen troops running activity stations at Webelos Woods, a weekend when fourth- and fifth-grade boys bring their parent to camp for an overnight, and meet all the troops while learning traditional scoutcraft things like first aid, knots, fire-building, cooking, archery, and BB shooting. This time, they also got to sleep in freezing weather, a great chance to show their parents and friends that they can survive adversity. Without freezing rain, it's a walk in the park, judging by all the happy, excited faces I saw everywhere.

Two things: scouting is alive and well, the tradition continues, and Camp Easton remains much the same. well, that's three. I watched patrols function well under boy leadership, boys having fun and adventure, adults staying in the background, and wide-eyed Webelos admiring the authority, power and knowledge of boys barely older than themselves.

My wide-ranging tramping tour of the camp's 300+ acres brought back wonderful memories of my times there, and the people who made it wonderful. Some stuff is new: huge shooting ranges for shotgun and rifle and archery. So many canoes they are stacked like cordwood on the beach, because the barn is full. An addition to the dining hall, about doubling the size. Underground coaxial cable (TV? phone?) and electricity to the adirondack cabins, now closed in for staff housing. A new shower house and flush toilets. Bigger war canoes. Waterfront slide and rafts. Easton even has it's own blog!

But much is not changed. The waterfront and F-dock, the campfire bowl, the old double-ender cabins, the names of the campsites, the vault toilets we loved in the '60's. (My second-favorite BSA camp, Camp Clark on the Oregon coast just began installing these a few years ago, to replace the stinky one-holers.) The parade ground remains the same. And the view remains -- not much visible development across the lake, on the west shore. When I climbed up to the top of the ridge south and east of camp, I could see development abutting the camp, but it's not visible from the majority of the camp.

Rekindled memories are the best, and sitting around a campfire, laughing, singing, watching the embers die . . . that's really living!

Baby, baby, baby, you're out of time

Exactly one-half of my life (so far) was spent with the most intelligent, gentle and Godly woman on the planet. She gave me three children, a Reason For Living, and an amazing journey through life's ups and downs. Fortunately for me, much of her learning experience came before I met her, so I got the benefit of her wisdom "after the fact".

Unfortunately for me, Corine died at 4:20 this morning. Peacefully, at home, surrounded by our children and grandchildren. Gone is the pain and suffering and terrifying shortness of breath, the result of an attack by lupus on her lungs about seven years ago. As her breathing slowed, then ceased, I swear she lost 30 years of well-earned lines and wrinkles. She relaxed into a beatific state, and went to spend the rest of her life with daughters Debi and Kristine, and many members of her extended family, in the presence of the God she knew and loved and served so well.

After saying our private good-byes to her now-lifeless body, the kids and I planned some aspects of the celebrations, from interment to memorial service and notifications. We called a few friends to notify them, and the mortuary to get started on cremation. By 8:00 am, the kids were going to their homes to sleep and wash up before our 1:30 meeting at the mortuary.

And just like that, I was suddenly alone in the house.

Blue, our cat, was the only anxious one now. She's not quite sure what happened to Jake, our 14-year-old Black Lab who died in February; or to the dryer, that faithfully served us for 30 years, and finally broke last month (the sure sign someone is or has died, I swear!).

Me, I'm just very tired, and awkwardly trying to be brave when I've spent 31 years with a soul-mate, and never been so alone except for the three months Corine spent with her father, in Yuma, as he died of lung cancer. On her birthday.

Our 31st anniversary was two days ago. I'm glad we got a couple extra days, and I look forward already to a reunion with her, and the giggling girls.