Summer camp chaplain

Over 1200 kids (and 300 adults) served with chapel services, leadership opportunities, free bibles and other literature, religious achievement awards, and counseling.

And all it took was an 8-week “sabbatical” from my Optimist Club duties, a Boy Scout Camp, and – most importantly – a need for someone to promote the 12th point of the Scout Law, “A Scout is reverent”.

Camp Baldwin is in the Mt Hood National Forest, about 40 miles south of The Dalles or Hood River. It has three very unique features: [1] boys cook their own meals in troop and patrol campsites; [2] a herd of 40 horses (one of the very few Scout camps with horses); and [3] its own rock-climbing site. Scouts also go windsurfing on the Columbia, and white-water-rafting on the Deschutes River. There is a staff of 50.

150-to-300 boys arrive each Sunday, for a one-week stay. That first evening, they attend an all-camp interfaith chapel service, produced by the chaplain and camp staff. The focus here is on reverence for God and others, emphasizing tolerance and cooperation as we all live together for a week.

About half the boys filled out a survey form, requesting bibles, literature, information, contact or prayers. My main job the rest of the week is personally delivering the requested materials, and discussing religious award requirements with boys and leaders. I met with young men interested in earning the Camp Chaplain Award, and encouraged them to plan and present a two-minute segment in one of the camper-led chapel services later in the week.

We had two Camper-run chapels each week, with 9 or 10 boys doing readings, testimonies or songs at each one. Boys came up with amazing testimonies about “What Scouting has done in my Life”, the need for friendship, overcoming bullies, and finding God through tragedies in their lives.

Scouts and staff come from a great variety of religious traditions, and I learned a lot from and about Wiccans; Eastern, Polish and Roman Catholics; Jewish; LDS (Mormon); Christian Science; Buddhist; and many brands of Protestant. The staff, primarily age 16-to-24, had special group and personal needs, especially during some stressful events, like the 16-year-old staffer who rescued a drowning victim at camp, and the climbing instructor and medic who rescued a boy who collapsed at the bottom of the cliff (with only one way out: straight up!).


By the end of the season, I had given away 288 pocket bibles, hundreds of other literature items, and awarded 87 Camp Chaplain Awards. But beyond the numbers, I saw young men striving to know and serve God in their own religious traditions, and showing remarkable courage and bravery by stepping up to the pulpit to present their story or talent for the benefit of others. And all around me were male and female staff and troop leaders, doing their best each day to bring out the best in each other and the kids in camp. This was a wonder-filled, fun and Optimist-ic summer adventure. I'm ready to go back and do it again.

Thanks to my Optimist Club family for filling in for me all summer, and enjoying my absence!

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.

An old, unsent Christmas letter or two

Albany, Oregon ~ 18 Dec 2006

OK, so I never did a Christmas letter, as far as I can remember. But I still have a copy of the one my mom made on a gelatin copier in 1957! My brother, David, was born that year, as Elvis rose to fame. So what's happened since then . . . randomly, here's what's on my mind to share. You'll note I live more and more in the past!

After two serious accidents in two '69 Chevy Novas [in 1970 and 1973], I swore off ever driving or riding in a Nova. They were my favorite car, and I still long for one, but the third time's a goner, as far as I'm concerned. Our 1994 Toyota Camry is reaching the end of it's useful life after 12 years, and now Corine and I are looking for a van or SUV that can accommodate Corine's motorized wheelchair. We expect chair delivery any day, after negotiating with the insurance company since August. Corine's brother John is helping me build a ramp to the door. I remember Dave and some friends helping build one on short notice, for Dad at 824, back in the last century. I learned a few things from that, and will make it wider!

My grammaw died in 1979, and 4 days later they had her in the ground 1500 miles away, in Fort Wayne. Uncle Bob must have engineered that, to make it happen so fast.

I retired from 31 years of gummint work in December 2001, and haven't had a raise or cost-of-living increase since 2002. But, the cost of our insurance sure went up, from $750 to $1000 a month. It's kind of a bummer to retire at 52, and have a whole decade to go before you get social security, and even longer until you get Medicare. I keep on the lookout for a part-time j-b, but I volunteer so much that I don't have time for w--k. And, I need to be available for Corine pretty much 24/7. But if I didn't have these problems, what WOULD I complain about?

Eyesight, for one. I need glasses because my arms aren't long enough to read stuff. And the small print on the back of food packages [looking for milk or high-fructose corn syrup] is beyond me. I am too proud to wear glasses in public, so I just keep 'em in the bathroom where I do most of my reading anyway!

In January 2007, we are going to remodel the bathroom, and rip out some very old carpet in the bedroom. Maybe insulate the walls. But I don't want to tell you all about it now, because then what would I write about NEXT year? (If you really can't wait for the excruciating details, remind me in the card you send with the cash for my birthday in March.)

We were congratulating ourselves on spending so little on medical co-pays this year that we were only half-way to stop-loss [the point where the insurance starts paying 100%]. We usually get there in October, and this was just a great, trouble-free year. Then Corine got pneumonia in early December, and spent 3 days in the hospital. That got us to 100%, and now they will deliver the "electric chair" this month, and we avoid paying $1100 of the cost of that. Or maybe do it in January, and get to stop-loss right off the bat!

Our daughter Susan had a house fire in late May, caused by too many things plugged into a power strip in the garage (which was also Dominik's bedroom). Dom's room got destroyed, although he salvaged one guitar and a couple of other items. Susan, Jason, Dom and Whitney moved in with us for 6 months, while the house was repaired. Friends loaned them a travel trailer, and our neighbors graciously consented to allow it, so the city gave us a permit, and Susan and Jason had a bedroom in our front yard. Our little house is 912 square feet, with one bath and 3 bedrooms, and was already stuffed with Mike's stuff ("junk", as Corine probably thinks. Where did I learn to be a packrat???). Each grandkid had a bedroom, and teenage friends who stayed over a lot, so the house was pretty crowded and busy. The boys brought in their Xboxes and TV's, and played online into the wee hours, in Dom's tiny 8x10 bedroom.

In the meantime, Susan and Jason found they could buy a brand-new home in a nice development, just blocks away from their old home (and our house). They moved in after Thanksgiving, and a group of friends and family helped them get everything out of storage and out of our house. It's nice to have our tiny home all to ourselves again. We keep remarking on how much space we have now!

16 January 2007

Picking up where I left off a month ago, I guess you can consider this my 2007 Christmas Letter, early for once!

I was always a little pleased that my great-grandpa, Frank Sepetowski, was more than just a drunken, wife-beating bartender, as witnessed by his lawsuit in 1902 over getting hit by a city streetcar. I always thought he won, and got the money ($425 then, or about $9500 in today’s dollars). I shoulda knowed better, ‘cause he sued a corporation. Today I found that the Transit company appealed, and the St Louis Court of Appeals overturned the jury verdict in 1903. But Frank was tenacious. Ever one to find an excuse to get out of jail for a day (he was now in the pen for trying to kill his wife, my great-gramma Atherton), he asked for a new trial on the old case. He got an order for it, but the Transit company appealed that. In 1904 the Appeals Court affirmed that he should have a new trial. Now to find out if he ever got it before he died in 1913.

Corine now zooms around the house in her electric chair, but hasn’t ventured outside in the winter cold yet. We are still working on getting a van, before our Camry needs a ring job (has 177,000 miles on it).

-------------------

and there it sat, on my computer, unfinished. Rather than send it or delete it, I'll put it here, and begin anew on a more current letter to borethesoxoff my relatives.

Eagle Scouts, by Mike Rowe

Mike Rowe, of Discovery Channel's "Dirty Jobs", has more fun and adventures than almost anyone on earth, (except maybe Indiana Jones). I love watching his show, and his attitude about the dedication and determination of people doing everyday jobs.

I didn't know he was an Eagle Scout, until I read his blog yesterday, with his view on what it takes to achieve Scouting's highest rank. Not the "requirements", but the decision a young man makes to become part of the few who persevere.

From my own path to Eagle, I know it took a lot of support and encouragement from people who mentored and inspired me. I am grateful for the leaders and teachers who recognized the knowledge, skills, ability and drive in me, who pushed me to overcome my lazy, procrastinating ways, who let me be "different" and follow my own path, and who taught me to make the Scout Oath and Law part of my daily life and examination of conscience. I am eternally grateful for the priests and nuns, my parents, my uncle Bob, and Scout leaders like Al Wild, Paul Sands, Otto Patten, Ira Hill, (and especially) Bill Delyea and Jim Campbell, who inspired me and allowed me to take the path less traveled. To me, that has made all the difference. (apologies to Robert Frost).

Earning Eagle is a decision I've never regretted or questioned. It was part of what led me to a lifetime of service in a "dirty job" as a child welfare investigator and caseworker. And the outdoor training and adventure of Scouting sustained me always, as I tried to keep a positive view of humanity. Getting out to the woods, or taking kids camping, was cathartic. Hiking the wilderness gave me lots of time to examine my life, my "dirty job", and my determination to make a difference.

My favorite Eagle Scout is my blogging nephew, Nick Ransom. After a few months in India, he compiled a list of things he's never taking for granted again. It made me thankful, too!

Kalmiopsis

I've loved the name, the plant and the Wilderness ever since I first met them in the mid-70's while living at Coos Bay, Oregon. Trips to Vulcan Lake, and to parts of the Wilderness, cemented my love affair with this part of the world that survived the great Flood. The Kalmiopsis is on the western end of the Siskiyou mountain range, which runs at right angle to all the other West Coast ranges [Cascade, Coast, Sierras . . .] Somehow it managed to avoid the destruction that befell most of the flora in North America, and there's an incredible array of pre-historic plants is this range, including the carniverous Darlingtonia. And then there's the rocks . . . Triassic, Jurassic, and more modern stuff from the last hundred-million years.

My family fell in love with it too, after a night camping at Red Prairie. In the morning, we were in brilliant sunshine, above a layer of cotton-ball clouds that obscured the lower peaks, valleys and Pacific Ocean. What a rush! And then swimming in the crystal-clear lake.

The nearby Rogue River, and Ilahee, and Agness, and the Siskiyou National Forest in general, provided some of my best experiences and memories. I suppose nothing beats my first Oregon wilderness experience, when Randy Kehoe and Father Andy and perhaps a few more went into the Three Sisters Wilderness in '67, and got caught in a horrific September storm. The huge pumice rocks we used to anchor our tents got blown away with the tents and tarps, and we still had to climb the Middle next day. But I digress . . .


Kevin Gibson and I used to take groups of kids into the Siskiyou for a day trip to a spot on top of Hanging Rock. We got a paid day out of the office and in the forest, and the kids got their breath taken away by suddenly sitting on top of the world with sheer drops on three sides. I hope it was as fun and memorable for them as it was refreshing and fun for us.

Here's Jason Wood and George Jenkins IV on top of a nearby rock, looking down on Eden Valley: I don't live in Coos Bay anymore, but I still love wilderness hiking. Albany, Oregon is pretty central for lots of wilderness in the Cascades. I still enjoy taking kids to high places.