Idiot Scoutmasters: No Pizza For You!

You can't spend almost 13 years in any organization without a few wild and crazy stories.  During that time you are also going to catch people on a bad day.  However, some Scoutmasters always seemed to be having a bad day.  Due to all the time I spent in the Boy Scouts of America I have managed to write quite a few stories in my "Idiot Scoutmaster" series.

What makes this story so strange is I think my patrol just happened to catch our Scoutmaster, Mr. Brasher, at a bad moment.  I'm sure something had to have happened to him earlier in the day to put him in a foul mood.  What's funny, is that, I wasn't even the one who was:

A:  Being a pain.
B.  Running my mouth.
C.  Trying to get his attention.
D.  Or even talking in general.

The conversation started with two of my Patrol members, Mark and Brian.  They were top notch quality human beings.  Eventually, they both ended up earning their Eagle Scout rank.  This was back before they changed the rules and made it much easier to do so.

We were talking about our upcoming campout, and what we should cook.  We had gotten into a bit of a rut.  You know, sandwiches and hot dogs.  Brian brought up the question of if we could actually make a pizza outdoors?  The flour didn't need refrigerated.  We could carry a stick of pepperoni as well as vegetables.

The only question Brian had was how to keep cheese from spoiling.  Mark brought up that we could carry a can a parmesan cheese since that didn't need to be refrigerated.  Brian immediately thought, "Oh yeah!  That's a great idea!"  He couldn't believe that he hadn't thought of it.

It was at that time that Mr. Brasher came out of nowhere, and laid down the law.  "We're not cooking pizza out camping!"  I have to admit I was completely caught off guard.  I said, "But we have the grill that we use for hot dogs.  Couldn't we just set the pizza pan on top of it?"

Again came the stern and final decision.  "We're not cooking pizza on a campout!"

I have no idea what set Mr. Brasher off.  I mean, our patrol was just spit-balling ideas when he came in with the drill sergeant routine.  What made him so angry about pizza.  Had he never heard of wood-fired pizza?

Was he afraid our pizza would turn out ugly?

I want to reiterate that I've been in troops with Boy Scouts who didn't act like Boy Scouts.  But Mark and Brian were some of the best troop members I've ever come across.  They really were model Eagle Scouts.

I think back to the words of wisdom from my Father.  "I don't know why you stayed (in the Boy Scouts) as long as you did?"  Maybe I was gathering material for all this writing gold?  No, that's not it.  But if art is suffering, then I suffered during quite a few backpacking death marches.  So now I don't feel one bit terrible about writing my "Idiot Scoutmaster" series.

For more great reading of my Idiot Scoutmaster series, follow these wonderful links:

Idiot Scoutmasters: I'm The Idiot Scoutmaster! 

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2020/03/idiot-scoutmasters-im-idiot-scoutmaster.html

Idiot Scoutmasters: The Idiot Committee

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2019/12/idiot-scoutmasters-idiot-committee.html

Idiot Scoutmasters: The Dishwashing Paradox

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2019/02/idiot-scoutmasters-dishwashing-paradox.html

Idiot Scoutmasters: Once Bitten, Forever Stupid

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2019/01/idiot-scoutmasters-once-bitten-forever.html

Idiot Scoutmasters: A True Story of a Scout's Canteen

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2018/09/idiot-scoutmasters-true-story-of-scouts.html

Bored Scoutmasters and the Tale of the Wampus

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2014/07/bored-scoutmasters-and-tale-of-wampus.html

Adrian reminisces about his childhood days with the Boy Scouts

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2011/02/adrian-reminisces-about-his-childhood.html

Idiot Scoutmasters: I'm The Idiot Scoutmaster!

I've had this Idiot Scoutmaster series going for quite a while now.  When you spend over a decade in the Boys Scouts you are bound to come up with a few head-scratching moments from your adult leaders.  However, I got to thinking.  Yes, I know it's a dangerous thing to do.  But I looked at it from the other end.

I was an Assistant Scoutmaster for two years.  Was I perfect?  The definite answer is a resounding, "No."  So this story is about the time I was the Idiot Scoutmaster.  Yes, I am admitting that even I screw up.

When I became an Assistant Scoutmaster for Troop 180 out of Lutz, Fl. there had been a shift in youth members.  They had lost a lot of  boys to turning sixteen.  I know you are thinking, "But aren't the boys allowed to be youth members until their eighteenth birthday?"  Yes.  That is true.

But when they turn sixteen they start driving, and become more interested in girls than Scouting.
I heard one of my own Scoutmasters say, "We've got to get these boys to Eagle by fifteen, or else they'll never get it."  ("It" being Eagle.)  Again, the subjects of girls and cars were brought up.

So Troop 180 was in the middle of a member shift.  It mostly consisted of Scouts that were one to two years removed from Webelos.  So they were quite young and inexperienced.  I remember the first campout that I somehow ended up being in charge of for the first hour.  I was running ragged answering question after question.  They were coming at me like a machine gun.

That was one of my stronger moments.  But like I said earlier, I've had my Idiot Scoutmaster moments.  It all started with two of the Scouts doing something extremely stupid.  I can't remember what.  But I was giving them unholy hell for doing it.

That's when I said/yelled, "You're acting like a bunch of God Damned twelve year olds!"  Yeah, not one of my better moments.  It was then that one of the Scouts said back to me, "But I'm ten!"  I didn't quite know what to say to that.

So I calmed down a bit, and thought about the situation.  I realized I was dealing with not just kids, but ten year old kids.  They were inexperienced, and when it came to communicating with youth so was I.  So I learned something new that day.

I screwed up a bit, but I tried to be a better Scoutmaster because I now knew what I was working with.  Also, the Scouts quit doing whatever dumb thing I yelled at them for.  So they learned a bit as well.

Does this mean I'm going to quit posting, "Idiot Scoutmaster" stories?  Hell no.  I'm sitting on a goldmine of stupidity stories.  I can't let that go.  But look at this way.  The Scoutmasters who were idiots will have stories told about them, and those who weren't will not.

For further reading, here is my Idiot Scoutmaster collection:

Bored Scoutmasters and the Tale of the Wampus

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2014/07/bored-scoutmasters-and-tale-of-wampus.html

Idiot Scoutmasters: A True Story of a Scout's Canteen

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2018/09/idiot-scoutmasters-true-story-of-scouts.html

Idiot Scoutmasters: Once Bitten, Forever Stupid

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2019/01/idiot-scoutmasters-once-bitten-forever.html

Idiot Scoutmasters: The Dishwashing Paradox

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2019/02/idiot-scoutmasters-dishwashing-paradox.html

Idiot Scoutmasters: The Idiot Committee

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2019/12/idiot-scoutmasters-idiot-committee.html

Here's a post that goes back over a decade.  This was posted on my old Myspace Blog.

Adrian reminisces about his childhood days with the Boy Scouts

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2011/02/adrian-reminisces-about-his-childhood.html

Idiot Scoutmasters: The Idiot Committee

Throughout my time blogging I have written a series of "Idiot Scoutmaster" posts.  They are about certain Scoutmasters from my time in Troop 12 of Lutz, Fl.  Due to "Professional Differences" I was asked to leave the troop.  After my time there, I joined Troop 189 of Tampa, Fl.

The Scoutmaster there was a great guy, Mr. Camp. That's right.  My Scoutmaster was named Mr. Camp.  His family lived three houses down from me.  I was in the same grade and Orchestra with his daughter.  Actually, we both played cello.  Sometimes we would share a music stand depending upon where we were seated.  I also got along well with his son, who was also in Troop 189.  His wife, Mrs. Camp was an active member of the volunteer community.  She worked with the Girl Scouts and the Red Cross.

Mr. Camp was a darn good and underappreciated Scoutmaster.  So this blog post is NOT about him being an idiot Scoutmaster.  No, he was one of the good guys.  This post is about the Troop Committee, and one of the dumbest screw-ups I have ever seen in Troop mismanagement.

Troop 189 was a drastically different troop from Troop 12.  The parents in Troop 12 had money.  Wherever they wanted to go, they went.  When I switched to Troop 189 the equipment was old and we camped in free state parks.  In fact, the tents the troop owned were old 1960's military canvas tents.  Pretty much all the equipment had been donated.  Troop 189 was the very definition of an inner city troop.

There's no easy or polite way to say my family was a hell of a lot better off than anyone in Troop 189.  For one, I had a Dad.  Including mine I can remember seeing about four total Dads.  Also, my Dad was the mailman.  As in, he was a U.S. Mail Postal Carrier.  Let's be honest, he was pulling a lot more money than anyone else there.  I'm not bragging.  This will be important information later on in the story.

So Dad is sitting in the committee meeting.  The Troop Committee (all Moms) are wanting to put together a fundraiser for the troop.  That's great!  We really needed to raise funds.  They decided they wanted to put on a spaghetti dinner.

So Dad asks, "What do you mean?"

It was explained that the boys would sell tickets to a spaghetti dinner held at the church (where our troop met.)  The boys would set up the tables, serve the food, clean up, and act as waiters for this spaghetti dinner.

So Dad asks, "So how do they sell tickets?  Do you want the boys to go door to door?  Who goes to a spaghetti dinner?

The Moms (or rather the one in charge of the committee) explained that other troops had done this and made a lot of money.

Dad said, "It sounds like it's more trouble than it's worth."

So they start to talk pricing.  The committee chairwoman wanted to price it at $3 a head.  (Sidenote: Think of costs in 1991.)

So Dad speaks up again.  "How do you plan on making any money?  I mean, that won't hardly cover cost.  It needs to be closer to $5 a head.  We're not running a church social gathering.  We need to make money.  This is a fundraiser."

That's when Rich stepped in.  He had come up through Troop 189, and earned his Eagle rank.  He was now a Councilman in the Gulf Ridge Council.  (Sidenote: Just a year later Rich would end up being the head honcho of the Gulf Ridge Council.)

Rich said, that, "If we're going to do this we need to make money.  The price needs to be closer to $5.  Rich was a good guy.  He wanted to be fair to everyone.

So the committee decided to set the price at $5.  Dad did some quick math in his head.  He said, "The best you can hope to make is about $40.  Do you want $40?  I'll give you $40 just to avoid the hassle."

Remember what I said about my Dad being the mailman?  Well, when I transferred to Troop 189 the Moms looked at my Dad in fear the first time they saw him.  They recognized him.  He was the one who delivered their welfare checks and food stamps.  He delivered their government  documents.  If there is one thing you get out of this blog post, remember this.  The mailman knows everything about you!

So when my Dad offered them $40 not to hold the spaghetti dinner the room went silent.  They just looked at him with fear.  Again, Rich stepped in, and said, "No, we want to boys to work on this like they would a service project.  It's important they perform a fundraiser."

So they turned my Dad down.  He told me all that went down in private.  I told him, "Heck, I would have thrown in $10 along with your $40 just to avoid the hassle.  Did you try to raise them to $60?"

He thought that was pretty funny.  He told me, "No, they pretty much had their minds made up."  Besides, I don't think Dad wanted to come across as a bully.  He just wanted to avoid the hassle.

So what happened the night of the spaghetti dinner?  It was almost entirely relatives of the members.  Some family members bought tickets and didn't show.  And for some reason a couple of the boys were playing around behind the pulpit.  While bumping around back there someone inadvertently turned on the baptismal tub.

Since it had no water in it, it burned out the element in the tub.  So, Troop 189 had to pay for the damage.  So with the money taken in for the spaghetti dinner minus the cost of repairing the damage from the tub, the troop ended up losing $20.

That's right.  Troop 189 lost money on that fundraiser.  And to be honest, they were probably lucky it was only $20 lost.  I just hope the committee members had it in the back of their minds that they should have just taken the damned $40 my Dad offered.

Below are the blog posts of my "Idiot Scoutmaster" series.

Bored Scoutmasters and the Tale of the Wampus

Idiot Scoutmasters: A True Story of a Scout's Canteen

Idiot Scoutmasters: Once Bitten, Forever Stupid

Idiot Scoutmasters: The Dishwashing Paradox

Idiot Scoutmasters: The Dishwashing Paradox

This post is a continuation of my "Idiot Scoutmaster" series.  I spent a long time in the Boy Scouts of America, and dealt with a lot of idiot Scoutmasters.  Admittedly, they were volunteers and not professionals, but I still question a lot of their so-called logic to this day.

The Boy Scouts of America have a certain way to wash dishes.  It's actually a very good method.  Basically it goes like this.  You have three tubs.

The first tub is the hot water and soap tub.  This is not really any different than washing dishes at home.  You have hot water, soap, and a brush/rag.  Again, just like washing dishes at home.

The second tub is a cold water and bleach solution tub.  This is known as the cold rinse pot/tub.  So just in case the hot water and soap wasn't enough the bleach in the second tub will kill everything.

This leads to the third tub.  This is just hot water for rinsing.  Hence the name, rinse pot/tub.  The clear hot water will clean off any bleach that is remaining.  After that, hand dry and put away the dishes.  Easy right?

Well my Scoutmaster Mr. Brasher had other ideas about dishwashing.  We only used two pots since that's all that would fit on the Coleman stove.  But Mr. Brasher had a secret to dishwashing.  Let it be known that I am quoting him exactly.

"You want the dish water to be so hot that you can't touch it three times."

This, of course, lead me to the thought, "Well, how can I wash the dishes if I can't actually touch them?"  And when I say he wanted the water hot I mean like this.

I honestly saw him do this weird quick move with his finger three times in the hot water.  He would then say, it wasn't hot enough.  I looked at him like the idiot he was.  He had what looked like a trigger-finger move for quickly touching the hot water three times quickly.  He kept doing it about every minute until his finger was burned enough that he couldn't stick it back in the water.

Seriously, it hurts to even remember this.  I know what you're thinking, "Well Boy Scout, why didn't you let the dishes soak for ten minutes before you attempted to wash them?"  I have an answer you might not have thought about.

You see, I am in Florida.  I've put a thermometer in the sun during the Florida summertime.  It hit 130 degrees F. in the sun.  So think about this.  Boiling water is 212 F.  The temperature in Florida is 95 F. in the shade, and 130 F. in the sun.  So just how long will it take for the temperature of a boiling pot of water to come down to manageable levels?

Let me tell you the answer.  It doesn't.  It doesn't come down to manageable levels.  No matter how long you wait it will still burn your hands.

Since the first pot is so blasted hot Mr. Brasher figured we didn't need a second bleach tub.  So the dishes would go from the first pot (boiling water and soap), to a second pot that was just... you guessed it... more boiling water.

I'll admit, the dishes were clean, but it took us Scouts an hour to wash dishes.  And remember, we'd have to do this three times a day.  Honestly, we spent most of our time just cooking and then washing dishes on campouts.  Literally six hours a day was devoted to just cooking and washing dishes.

Now maybe that's not a bad thing.  I do cook well, and I've never had complaints about my dish washing.  So I do have to thank Scouting for that.  But I will say this.  When I wash dishes I make sure NOT to use boiling water.  Hot?  Yes.  Boiling?  No.

For more of my interesting Scouting stories follow these links:

Idiot Scoutmasters: Once Bitten, Forever Stupid

Idiot Scoutmasters: A True Story of a Scout's Canteen

Bored Scoutmasters and the Tale of the Wampus

Adrian reminisces about his childhood days with the Boy Scouts

Idiot Scoutmasters: Once Bitten, Forever Stupid

Last year I decided I would write blog posts about stupid things my Scoutmasters had done while I was in the Boy Scouts of America.  This is my second article.

Here is the first:

Idiot Scoutmasters: A True Story of a Scout's Canteen


My story again revolves around my Scoutmaster, Mr. Brasher.  Needless to say, he had a alternative way of teaching us boys.  When it came to First Aid, he had a belief that immersion was a better teacher than learning by the book or from a teacher.

We were at some sort of camping event with other troops.  We would go to one station, and learn First Aid.  We would then go to another station, and study something else.  Well, it was a few hours after we had learned First Aid, and we were being instructed about another subject.

Out of nowhere I saw Mr. Brasher screaming like he was in pain, as he started running around like a chicken with its head cut off.  It was then I heard him scream, "It bit me!  It bit me!"

I thought, "He's just been bit by a snake!!!"  It only took 0.02 seconds later for me to realize that he was acting like he had just been bitten by a snake to see what we would do.  Still, this kind of behavior had become normalized to me.  I was the first one to run up, and yell at him to, "stay calm!"
A few hours earlier at our First Aid class we had learned the importance of keeping a snake bit victim calm.  We were told to tackle the person if needed.  Anything to keep them from running around, and increasing their heartrate.

As a twelve year old I was proud that I was the first one to grab him, and yell at him to keep calm.  You know, he actually kept up the act yelling back at me that, "He was bit by a snake!  It bit me!  It bit me here!"  But now that I think back on the incident, it's weird how normalized that sort of behavior became to me.  But then again, I was only twelve.

The real kicker was that Mr. Brasher actually had a snake.  A rubber snake.  He had brought a rubber snake along on the camping trip just to pull off that stunt.  That's the kind of mindset I had to deal with.

Idiot Scoutmasters: A True Story of a Scout's Canteen

I have written of my time in the Boy Scouts of America before.  (See the links at the bottom of the page.)  As I look back, I have more angry/disappointed memories than I do good ones.  This does make for great stories on my blog, but remember,  I had to live these moments.  I have held off writing a lot of my bad memories on this blog, well, for as long as I've been writing this blog.  (Roughly 10 years now.)

This memory I have is so ridiculous that I think it's time to share it.  In fact, this may be the first of these memories I may be writing about for the next few months or years.  I don't know.  What I do know, is that, sometimes Scoutmasters make mistakes.  What I hope is that they learn from them.  I don't know if mine ever would.

I graduated from my Webelo's pack to Troop 12 when I was just ten years old.  I was younger than everyone else.  It made it tough to be taken seriously by other scouts much less get along with them.  The original Scoutmaster was Mr. Moore.  He was a bit goofy, quick tongued, and got along great with the boys.  This did not sit well with the some of the committee members, parents, and other adults.

I could see how he could rub people the wrong way, but I believe he put the boys needs and wants first.  He was asked to step down as Scoutmaster.  He refused and was fired because of it.  All the other adults/Assistant Scoutmasters had a talk with us boys.  They asked us not to quit scouting, and to give the new Scoutmaster a chance.  Some boys quit due to their disgust over the whole matter.  At the time the troop had over forty members, something I've never seen in any other Scout troop, then or since.

Mr. Cooper took over as Scoutmaster for the next six months.  He did it as long as he was able, but his job took a lot of his time.  I always got along well with Mr. Cooper.  He stepped down, and went back to being an Assistant Scoutmaster within the troop.

That was when Mr. John R. (Bob) Brasher took over as Scoutmaster.  He took the troop in unseen directions.  I was roughly twelve years old when this happened.  The first thing that happened was, he really took over.  As in, the boys no longer planed what we were doing.  He took hard control of the reins.

The first thing that was decided with no input of the boys was that Troop 12, (of Lutz, Fl.) was to become a backpacking troop.  That's when a lot of boys quit.  They wanted to be in the BSA.  They didn't want to be involved in the Bataan Death March through Florida during the summers.  And remember, it's summer in Florida nine months out of the year.

The thing I remember most about Mr. Brasher was he ability to talk out of both sides of his mouth at the same time.  He once said that, "The Boy Scouts are not a military organization."  But he also said, "We might have to teach these boys some (military) steps."

If you've ever seen Dr. Phil McGraw (Oprah's friend) spout off some nonsensical country saying, well, Mr. Brasher was the king of that.  You have to remember that I was 10-13 years old while I was in Troop 12.  I wasn't that mature for my age, and I had no idea what he was talking about half the time.

My Dad never wanted to talk bad about other adults in charge.  He didn't want to undermine their credibility/authority.  There was one incident that just made us ask what the cold hell Mr. Brasher was thinking.  It was kind of the beginning of the end as far as me having any respect for Mr. Brasher as a Scoutmaster.

The Troop was on one of its death hikes.  Again, you have to remember was summer is like in Florida.  It's 95 degrees during the day, and only drops to 85 degrees at night.  We were all carrying heavy backpacks.  Remember I was only twelve years old, and carrying a 35 pound backpack.  A lot of that weight was carrying water.  I personally carried six quarts of water when I would start backpacking.  I had two, 2 quart "wine sacks," and two plastic, 1 quart bottles.

Here's what a quart of water looks like:

When we were backpacking we would hike for one hour and rest for ten minutes.  It was during one of the breaks that Mr. Brasher flat told me I should only drink this much water from my canteen.

This is what I actually drank:

Now imagine you have been gardening, landscaping, or mowing the lawn.  If you've been out doing that for a few hours how much water would you drink?  Also, imagine you are doing that in August in the beautiful state of Florida?  Yeah.

Nowadays, outside activities are all about hydration.  Heck, now they make kids drink before activities.  Maybe that's going overboard if you are up in Canada, but when it's 95 degrees out in the woods of Florida, it's not a bad idea.  Heck, there have been times when I'm doing lawn work out here, and I'm sweating as fast as I drinking water.  I'm not being funny.  I really have done that.  

A couple of blogs ago I wrote about working on the travel trailer.  It was so hot that I ended up drinking an entire gallon of water in six hours.  Once I had showered and cleaned up, I started drinking even more.  The reality was I had actually sweated that much out.  

So when Mr. Brasher told me that I was drinking too much water I honestly thought he was completely full of shit.  But more on that later.  He actually had the audacity to walk up to my Father (days later, after the hike) and tell him, "Adrian drinks too much water."  My Dad told him, "You all are out there backpacking in this weather and you're telling him to eat beef jerky and trail mix?  And you wonder why he's thirsty?  Mr. Brasher didn't have much to say to that.  

 

But here lies a problem in backpacking that I was never told.  I didn't actually find this out until later.  Do you know what happens to a person when the following things occur?

1.  Hard work (as in backpacking?)

2.  Not taking enough water in that leads to dehydration?  

3.  Eating salty dehydrated foods?

4.  Pre-teen boys not wanting to drop a deuce in the woods?

5.  Extremely high outdoor temperatures?

I'm going to leave this WebMD link right here, okay?

https://www.webmd.com/digestive-disorders/what-is-fecal-impaction#1

I know folks may think that today's helicopter parents and coaches might be babying their youth, but look at what a lot of us had to deal with as kids.  Doctors say something that I wish a lot of people would pay attention to.  

They say the body has a natural system for telling a person that they need water.  It's called thirst.  If you feel thirsty, you should drink water.  It's that simple.  It's not like Mr. Brasher said, "You should only drink "this" much water."  No!  If a person is thirsty there's a reason why.  It's your body telling you to put some water in it now.  

Again, that was the beginning of the end for me with Troop 12.  I don't know if I could even call it Troop 12 by that point.  It was Mr. Brasher's Troop by that time.  I ended up getting kicked out of Troop 12 about a year later.  But that's a story for another time.  For now, I leave you with this advice.  Stay hydrated.  

And here are the links I promised earlier.

Adrian reminisces about his childhood days with the Boy Scouts 

Bored Scoutmasters and the Tale of the Wampus

The Angry Chef And The Tale Of The Tinfoil Dinner

I'll admit, I'm a bit of an angry, neurotic chef.  I talk to myself when cooking.  I am always on the move in the kitchen.  I like keeping a tight time.  I also don't take kindly to an invasion of my kitchen.  That's right.  I said, "my" kitchen.

I tell a lot of tales from my past on this blog.  After over 550 or so blogs I thought I would have told this tale.  However, today I realized that I had never written this story down.  It is the story of how I threw my own Grandmother out of my kitchen.  But first, let me start with what I was cooking.

When I was in the Boy Scouts of America we had a great recipe for the ultimate complete dinner.  It's called tinfoil dinner.  Basically, here's what you do.

Lay down some aluminum foil.  Place down some leaves of cabbage.  Place thinly cut potato slices down over the cabbage.  Add cut carrots.  Then place down some thawed out hamburger meat.  At this point you can be creative. 

You can add onions, but feel free to add whatever onions you like.  I also like to add bell peppers.  There are many types of mushrooms you can add.  Then you cover those back up with the rest of your raw hamburger.  Sidenote:  It actually works better with higher fat hamburger.  In other words, the cheap stuff.  At this point I like to add Heinz Beef Gravy (Savory Flavor.)  It's wonderful.

Then you go in reverse from there.  Add some cut carrots.  Put more thinly cut potato slices over them.  Then cover it in some more cabbage leaves.  In fact make sure you cover it completely with cabbage. 

When you are adding layers make sure to salt and pepper.  You can also be creative and use garlic salt and Italian seasonings.  If you like it spicy, by all means add your favorite spices. 

Then you wrap it up in aluminum foil, and then wrap it some more.  Why?  Because you are going to put it directly on the hot coals of an outdoor fire.  Leave it there for an hour.  You want it nice and hot.  The hamburger (and if you added gravy) juices will cook everything with a wonderful flavor. 
Since you have it in a nice fire, it will also have that nice campfire smoky flavor. 

When I was a young teen I described this meal to my family.  They asked me to make it for them.  I had to think about it.  How would I make it at home?  So I decided to take a cookie sheet, lay down the foil on it, and do the same thing I would normally do. 

Since I didn't have a fire, I decided to cook it in the oven.  I set the oven to 500 degrees, and cooked it for an hour.  It worked out wonderfully. 

Since I decided to write this blog about the tinfoil dinner, I made sure to take pictures.  Here they are.

As you can see it is covered pretty well in foil.

Here you can see all the cabbage.  You know you did a really good job when the cabbage is just a little bit singed. 

I've pulled the cabbage away, and you can see the nice mixture of meat, potatoes, carrots, onions, etc.

And here it is on my plate.  It tastes wonderful.  It really does. 

So now that I have explained how this dish is made, I will clarify my angry chef situation.  So as you know, I am king of my domain in the kitchen.  My grandmother is queen of her domain in her kitchen.  In fact, she thought she was a great cook.  (She's not.)  Her specialty was baking bread.  (You better have water or you would choke on it.)  She thought she was creative.  (She wasn't.)

So I was asked to make tinfoil dinner for everyone when my grandparents were down to visit.  She comes into my kitchen, and starts trying to tell me what to do.  I wasn't having it. 

She started making suggestions.  Things like adding tomatoes to it.  I halfway screamed, "What?"  Then she said I should add shredded cheese.  I really did yell, "At 500 degrees for an hour????!!!!!  Do you know what that will do????"  She just looked at me like a deer in headlights.

That's when I blew my fuse.  "Out!  Get out of my kitchen!!!"  I was not having that.  There's a reason I spent most of this blog teaching how to make this dish for a reason.  I wanted to show just how hot and how long this dish needs to cook.  Tomatoes and cheese would just be destroyed in that much heat. 

Besides this is not an Italian dish.  Grandma liked to make Italian baked dishes.  Her version of "spaghetti" was made in the oven.  My Uncle Jimmy called it, "awful."  It was something he did not look forward to.   It's true, her bad cooking was the stuff of legend.  That's one reason I really blew my top. 

I was not going to be given bad advice in my kitchen while I was working hard to feed six people.  My B.S. meter just went through the roof.  So, I threw her out of my kitchen.  I don't regret it.  My grandmother would tend to push people until you stood up to her.  You had to let her know where the line was.  And I did just that. 

Now that's not to say I didn't care about my grandmother, but she could be very trying at times.  She had mood swings and a very sharp tongue.  As I became older we had come to an understanding.  And part of that was my kitchen was my territory. 

So, there are many things I want you, the reader, to take away from this.  First off, stay out of your chef's way.  Try a little tinfoil dinner now and then.  Don't add tomatoes and cheese to any dish at 500 degrees for an hour unless you want it to be goop.  And finally, you can learn some really neat things in the Boy Scouts of America. 

Nature's Classroom and the Little Chomping Machines

When I was in sixth grade my elementary school class took a trip to "Nature's Classroom."  For those who don't know, "Nature's Classroom" was where students learned about the outdoors and nature for five days.  Now a days, it's only three days.  Here's the link for those who wish to know more.

http://www.fyccn.org/Natures%20Classroom

I think it's a great program, but honestly, I found it kind of boring.  Anything and everything that we did there I had already done with the Boy Scouts of America.  There was one day that we shot B.B. guns and archery that again, I found boring.  Why find shooting a B.B. gun exciting when I was already shooting a shotgun out hunting?  Why find shooting a simple bow exciting when I had already shot a somewhat expensive compound bow?

Now don't get me wrong.  There were a few exciting moments.  But there was one moment that I look back on, and wonder if it was age appropriate. 

As I said, I was in sixth grade which meant I was eleven years old.  I can't remember if we went in the Fall or the Spring.  So that would have made it 1987 or 1988 when I went. 

Near the end of the week we were all given nets and told to pick up a few critters in the Hillsborough River.  We mostly picked up fish along with a few crawfish/crawdads.  We then took them back to a wondrous room.  It was filled with all sorts of tanks of fish, more fish, different types of fish, rabbits, Guinea pigs, baby chicks, mice, turtles, and one tank that held two juvenile American Alligators.

These alligators had to have been born recently.  They were only about 14-16 inches and most of that was tail.  I mean, I had a pet bearded dragon (later in life) that was as big as these alligators. 

Now what made this interesting was that our instructor told us we could pet and hold the rabbits, Guinea pigs, mice, various other animals, and ....... the alligators.  I thought, "wait, we can not only pet, but hold the alligators?"

You have to remember this was either 1987 or 1988, and the American Alligator came of the endangered species list on June 4th, 1987.  So being able to legally hold one was kind of surprising for a kid.

Our instructor took some of the crawfish we had caught, and then feed it to the alligators.  I have to say, it kind of surprised me how an alligator ate.  They would literally crunch the crawfish in three bites, and then shallow it.  You could heart the crunching and everything.  Even as tiny as those gators were, they had some powerful jaws.

Our ever so gracious instructor told us we could handle the alligators, but not to put our fingers near their mouths.  She had a kid who did that a few months back, and it wasn't pretty.  And after I saw what the gators just did to the crawfish, I had this horrible image in my head of those gators stripping the flesh off of a kid's finger.

But yeah, I had to handle those gators...... but very carefully.  I ever so carefully picked up the gators (one at a time) around the middle making sure to keep their mouths away from everything.  The funny part is that they didn't squirm around or anything.  Anyone who has ever had an iguana or a bearded dragon knows they don't like to set still if you hold them for too long.  These gators didn't mind being held.  They didn't move their feet around trying to climb on or up me. 

In the end it was the one big thing that I remember from Nature's Classroom.  But I am still kind of split.  Was I too young to be handling a chomping machine like a baby alligator?  Or, was it important that I was able to hold them since I remember that moment to this day?  Maybe I should have just played with the bunnies?

50 Miler

Back when I was in the Boy Scouts of America, there was a major patch you could get for well, ... something major.  It was the 50 Miler award.  You had to go 50 miles in one week by foot or afloat.  I earned mine with a combination of canoeing and backpacking 50 miles with my troop over spring break. 

Here's the old version of the patch I earned.

In real life that patch is huge.  It's the biggest patch I own.  And you know, it should be.  It's a hard patch to get. 

So this brings me to this past week.  I have been performing maintenance at an apartment complex in Clearwater.  Mainly, they have me do the things they don't want to do.  That means I deal with a lot of garbage.  They had me walking all over the property picking up liter, and taking care of the trash cans. 

After each day my feet were killing me.  So I got to thinking...  There was one morning when I walked non-stop the first half of the day.  So even if I walked only two miles per hour, I knocked out eight miles just before lunch.  And then I went out and walked some more.  I figured each day I walked between ten and fifteen miles.  So at the end of the working week I easily had walked fifty miles. 

Buy alas, there is no 50 Miler patch for life.  But sometimes I think there should be.  At least in my heart I am glad to know that I was able to walk that much in one week.  Some of the other maintenance men at that complex said they just couldn't do what I did. 

The funny thing?  I might have to do it again this week.

The Tale of a Scout's Uniform

Well for about 24 hours I was in the Boy Scouts of America.  (See previous post.)  When I at BSA Sea Base I was with other Scout Leaders from across the globe.  I talked to a man who was from the Philippines, and had attended one of the World Jamborees.  As I noticed everyone in their Class A uniforms it got me to thinking.  Despite being members of one organization, all of our uniforms are rather personalized.

The one organization I can think of with uniforms such as the Boy Scouts is the U.S. Military.  Except for certain medals and designations of which division members are in, the uniforms are pretty much homogenized.  That's a bit different from the Boy Scouts where the uniform can be customized quite a bit.

Take for example, my uniform.  (Note:  This is my adult uniform, not my youth uniform.)

It's actually quite colorful isn't it?

Let's start on the left and work our way to the right.

Every Scout uniform comes with the American flag.  Only that and the "Boy Scouts of America" patch are the only patches that come standard on the uniform.  Everything else much be sew on by the Scout's Mom (ha, ha, but not really.) 

The Quality Unit patches (mine are from 1997 and 1998) mean that the troop maintained or increased it's membership that year.  So unlike a lot of the "gimmie" patches, this one can be difficult to get.  It falls more on the leaders than it does the boys. 

Let's talk loops.  Those are those red things on the shoulders.  On a funny sidenote, it seems that I am a bit out of date.  Boy Scouts now wear forest green loops.  Cub Scouts wear blue.  Varsity wears Orange.  Venture Scouts wear green (not forest green) loops.  Council and District wear silver loops, while the higher ups at National and Regional wear Gold. 

One rule of thumb is that whenever you see someone with Silver or Gold loops, be on your best behavior.  That rule works equally well for both youth and adult.  (Sometimes a good reminder always helps.)  So just by those little loops you can tell which level a member is at.

The nice colorful patch is my Order of the Arrow patch.  They also have districts (more correctly Lodges, and I belong to Seminole Lodge #85.  This is a special patch celebrating the 1992 Olympics. 

The place below that on the left side pocket is a free for all.  You can put an earned patch here.  I put my river clean up patch since that event meant a lot to me.  That, and that patch looks cool.  So back to my main point.  This is where you can really customize your uniform.

The purple patch is definitely a "gimmie" patch.  It means you support world scouting.  In other words, you can go to your local district, buy it, and slap it on.  The "ring" patch that is around it just came out.  It is also a "gimmie" patch.  It celebrates the birth of Scouting in America.  You can also buy this at your local district.

The "knot" patches that go above the pocket flap are some of the hardest to get.  My one and only means that I was awarded the "Arrow of Light" from my graduation from Webelos to Boy Scouts.  Other knots are for getting your Eagle Scout award, religious awards, and district awards.  Again, they are very hard to get, and you have to put in many years to earn them.

At the top of the sleeve is the Council patch.  This tells what Council you are in.  I'm in the Gulf Ridge Council.  On a funny sidenote, I am a bit out of date with mine.  A new patch was created four years ago.  It's always neat to go a far-away summer camp, and see who is from different Councils.  A lot of Scouts will carry extra Council patches, and trade Council patches with other.  I have done this a few times.  I have a nice one from Pennsylvania from a Scout I met at Philmont.

The next patch is your Troop number.  I have been in Troops 12, 189, and 180.  Again, I am a bit out of date in that I have the red numbers.  The new ones are green. 

On yet another sidenote, I am still allowed to wear the red loops because my numbers are still red. 

Under the troop number you wear your position patch.  I was an Assistant Scoutmaster.  The youth Scouts wear what position they are as well.  Positions such as Senior Patrol Leader, Patrol Leader, Chaplain, Quartermaster, etc. 

If you attend a School of Scouting event you get the "Trained" patch.  I attended and took a few courses.  It is hosted by the Boy Scouts, and was held at the University of South Florida.  Both leaders and youth can wear this patch as long as they attended.

One thing I didn't get to cover was neckerchiefs.  Most of the time, they aren't worn unless it's for a special occasion.  I usually only wore mine during Scout dinners and awards ceremonies.  The rule is that usually the troop will decide on one style of neckerchief to wear, and everyone will wear that one. 

So that's the tale of my uniform.  As you can see, they really are customized depending upon what you have accomplished.  I do think I like it that way.  It allows one to be part of the organization, but still be an individual. 

Why I Decided To Leave BSA Seabase

The last few years I have been writing this blog it has mostly been about craft projects, old funny stories, or insights into weird ideas.  When I first started this blog back in 2008, it was mainly a diary of how things were going in my life.  I haven't done a post like that in a while, but due to circumstances as of late, I knew I had to write a "diary post."

Back in December I was ecstatic when I was hired to work for the Boy Scouts of America down in the Keys at their high adventure base known as BSA Sea Base.  I had worked for the BSA in 2004 at Philmont in New Mexico.  Since I live about 350 miles from Sea Base, I was able to take my own car, and thus a lot of my stuff along with me.  So I packed up and drove down there.

Unfortunately, my car decided at that moment to have a few problems.  I was stuck in a traffic jam, and it was dangerously close to overheating.  Luckily, I was able to get out of the traffic jam, pull over, and check my car out.  I made it down there okay, but my car was making a lot of noise.

When I get to Sea Base I discover that my "housing" was half the size of a standard hotel room, and there would be four guys to an apartment.  We did have a bathroom, but it was tiny.  Two of my roommates had been there so long they had accumulated a lot of stuff, and there was not any place where I could put my own belongings. 

I start talking to my roommates, and they start telling me about my immediate boss (who I will not mention by name.)  They described him as a Cuban dictator who screamed, cursed, insulted, and abused those around and underneath him.  Now here's a side note.  I had to sign and notarize a paper saying that I would abide by the Scout Law at all times.  (Yes, I really did have to have it notarized.)  So I wonder when this guy is cursing at people, which part of the Scout Law is that under?  I had one of my roommates tell me, and I quote, "I would never work for that madman." 

So in the morning I talk to the main boss about my concerns.  I straight up tell him I'm not comfortable with the living arrangements, and I will not be yelled at.  I said, "If he has a problem with my work, that's fine.  If he doesn't like the way I did something, that's fine.  He can tell me in a calm voice.  The moment he screams or curses at me he will find himself on the ground screaming, "My crotch, my crotch, oh my God my crotch!"  I will not be disrespected in that manner."

The main boss was very sympathetic about my concerns.  He said, my immediate boss was better than he was years ago, but would I have a run in with him?  Yes.  Would I be cursed at?  Yes.  Also, he didn't like the living arrangements either.  But, on an island land is at a premium, and they just don't have much space.  They were in the planning stages of putting together another housing unit, but that would still be years off. 

So I agreed not to take the job, and come back home.  I went to a mechanic that they knew just 9 miles up the road.  They found my compressor and a few items were not working and/or dying.  So I went to Miami to stay with some friends until nightfall.  I was then able to run my car with the A/C off at night when it was cooler.  That way my engine didn't overheat.  I dropped off my car at my trusted mechanic the next day, and he got it working again. 

I have to say that Philmont was an amazing adventure, and I would suggest that every Scout who is interested tries to make it out there sometime during their lifetime.  However, I am not so sold on BSA Sea Base.  I never found it comfortable there, and would not suggest that anyone work there.

On a side note, I had someone suggest that I talk to someone in charge at the Gulf Ridge Council (here in the Tampa Bay area) to see if I could get ahold of a higher up in the Boy Scouts to let them know what was going on.  I didn't think it would do any good.  I mean, the screamer had been with them for years, and I think everyone knew what was going on.  So I don't think it would matter much what I would report. 

Bored Scoutmasters and the Tale of the Wampus

As I have written before, I was a member of the Boy Scouts of America for roughly 12 1/2 years.  That's counting the years I was a Cub Scout, Webelo, Boy Scout, Assistant Scoutmaster, and employee at Philmont Scout Ranch.  So when I write about my time with the BSA, I can remember it anywhere from being an eight year old kid to an adult leader.

The BSA like any organization is going to get it's good and bad people, whether they are kids or adults.  Looking back, I know there were a few things I shouldn't have done that made life hell for my Scoutmasters.  And likewise it was paid back to me by a few snot nosed brats that needed a good paddling. 

Believe me, they don't all look like this:

The problem with being a Scoutmaster is that you are either bored to death while the Scouts are off doing their thing, or are inundated by 20 to 30 youths with too much energy.  So, it comes to the point where payback stops being a bitch and starts being a demonic force that will scare the pants off of any camper.  Case in point:  The Wampus. 

Now I live down in Florida and when it comes to the woods it means lots of wild hogs.  I have actually run into a pack of them while out on a trail with the rest of my troop.  They are big scary looking things that have a bad attitude.

I remember being told to take safety precautions around camp.  Always use the buddy system.  Make sure trash is in it's place.  Don't go off the beaten path.  Why?  Because of the wampus.  That's right, it was an animal that was off the wild pig line, but had broader shoulders like a bear, and bear like claws.  It also made a lot of noise, and squealed.  It liked to eat Scouts, so make sure to mind your Scoutmasters. 

Really, before South Park came out with Manbearpig, there was the wampus.

Really, it was a great scare tactic for bored Scoutmasters. 

But here's a fun fact.  What does a wampus sound like?  Well, it sounds a lot like a ghost howler.

http://www.instructables.com/id/How-to-make-a-Ghost-Howler/

I preferred using the metal baked bean cans, but they have a good overall method.  And why not make good use of them?  Those little bastards have driven me to drink before.  And I don't even drink.

But back to the point.  The wampus.  It turns out however we were wrong all along.  I searched google, and found out a few things.

Wampus cat

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

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A cougar

The Wampus cat is a creature in American folklore, variously described as some kind of fearsome variation on a cougar.

Oops.  It turns out the tale of the wampus kind of got twisted by the time it got to our ears.  Here's the Wikipedia description:

Description[edit]

The wampus cat is often compared to the Ewah of Cherokee mythology, in that it was a woman who disguised herself in the skin of a cougar to spy on the men of the tribe, as they sat around the campfire with their wolf brothers, and told sacred stories on a hunting trip. When the woman was discovered, the tribe's medicine man punished her by transforming her into a half-woman, half-cat, who supposedly still haunts the forests of East Tennessee.^[1] In folklore, it can be seen as one of a number of fearsome critters. In some sections of rural East Tennessee, the legend of the Wampus Cat takes on a more sinister tone. It is said that the Wampus Cat is a spirit of death and the earth, and when her cry is heard, it means someone is going to die and be buried within the next three days.

So that's my tale.  The truth is once the kids get to be Boy Scouts it gets to be a little harder to scare them.  However, it's the Cub Scouts, Webelos, and first years Boy Scouts that you can really scare.  I recommend it to bored and angry Scoutmasters.  It's just a heck of a lot of fun.  I'm sure all the campers will find it funny after years of therapy.