This One Time, At Scout Camp...

For those of you who are new to the blog or simply haven't read some of the older posts, it might come as a surprise to know that I, Brian Allman, used to work for the Boy Scouts of America.  I stopped working for the BSA once I was forced by the adult world, to get a 'real' job that paid 'real' wages, and advanced my 'adult career'. But while I eventually stopped working for the BSA, I have never stopped loving that job, and that camp nestled into the north woods of Wisconsin, called Ma-Ka-Ja-Wan. And if I'm being honest, I've also never stopped talking or writing about Ma-Ka-Ja-Wan.

I have good stories, and bad ones. Some of my sad stories talk about my various problems as a BSA employee: The living arrangements left much to be desired, I had to deal with angry old scoutmasters, and as the store manager for a year I had to spend my weekends doing inventory instead of playing around outside. Over the years, I had various other problems that at the time seemed monumentally terrible, which of course means they make for great stories. However, these nasty events were relatively rare, and after at the camp for several years, I can only think of a single summer that was, overall, unpleasant. In fact, aside from the basic living conditions, almost all of my stories are relatively positive.

This was my 'stump' where I lived one year: Two smelly teenagers
sharing a shed for months, on beds held together by ropes tape.

As a result of the primarily good times as a camp employee, and now looking back fondly on even the less than ideal times, I've become a bit camp-sick in my daily life.  I tell my stories of camp experiences to everyone I know, whether they're interested or not.  I even have camp-related urges that are MORE than just stories...Like nowadays, when I get nervous when I've been cooped up for too long without seeing a forest... or how, if I haven't seen a campfire in a few weeks I get the sudden urge to burst into camp songs, to alleviate my need for fun and outdoorsy memories. And of course, every time someone says "announcements" I have to stop myself from bursting into a cliche camp song.  Yes, even years later, I remain permanently camp-sick, and my constant stories and actions reflect that.

People who haven't even seen this place feel like they miss it!

However, knowing that I'm constantly in a state of camp-sickness means that I am now aware of JUST HOW MUCH I talk about camp:  Lots. I have tried to curb this behavior, because I was told that being focused on childhood or young adulthood isn't 'mature'.  I've learned to watch myself carefully, and stop speaking when I'm obviously obsessive about my younger years because it's not 'cool' to talk about your favorite stories, it's 'cool' to talk about your politics.  I've learned to hear myself say things such as, "Back when I worked with the boy scouts" and "In my camp-counselor days" and other statements of that ilk and switch the conversation or stories to more serious topics that are considerably less fun. No matter how amusing, it's probably not 'mature' to tell your friends and coworkers the hilarious story of the camper jokingly referred to as 'Dr. House Jr.', or about the time someone's sleepwalking habits left them confused and waking up in a bog.

Example of a good story:  I'm referred to as "Oatie the Oatmeal Man" and this
decoration has another story altogether!  So many great tales I want to share!

The problem is, who said that being adult inherently meant giving up on being fun, and fun stories?

Think about it:  I probably AM talking about camp too often. Yes, far too many of my stories begin with "This one time, at scout camp," in an accidental parody of the hilarious "American Pie" movie quote. And yes, I definitely misremember the stories in such a way that the whole experience is more fun to look back on than it probably really was. All of those accusations are accurate.

Because clearly, adult conversation topics are absolutely fascinating...

Just because I frequently share my camp stories, or stories from my past as a wildlife biologist doesn't mean that these experiences weren't incredible, and worth sometimes sharing!  Maybe some adults don't want to have a fun conversation, and maybe being 'truly mature' really has to involve listening to lectures about politics and religion and tax law. But maybe it's ALSO alright that adults share our funny tales of the past.  Personally, I think that it's OK to prefer talking about 'Dr. House Jr.' over talking about the steady crumble of the American economy.

Everyone wants to have good memories.  Everyone wants to have a great story to share.  And everyone needs a home away from home, a place that makes them feel happy and wistful.  So, while I admit that I probably talk about camp too much, I refuse to admit that this is a bad thing.  In my opinion, if everyone else got the chance to spend their younger years in a beautiful woodland, learning that hard work actually pays off and a job doesn't HAVE to be all about the money, maybe our culture would be a bit happier.  Maybe other people would have great stories to tell, too. Maybe, just maybe, it's OK that I'm camp-sick and want to go back to a time when money wasn't the only reason I went to work in the morning.

As Dr. Seuss once said, "Adults are just obsolete children and the hell with them." Stop being so concerned about how your stories START, and start caring about what they CONTAIN.  I'd rather hear a thousand amusing stories that start, "This one time, at scout camp" than a single argument that starts with, "Let's talk politics for a second."

Besides...don't you want to know the REASON for the following picture?  Seems like it might be a PRETTY cool story, and it starts with, "This one time, at scout camp..."

Seriously...how could an argument about politics be more amusing than THIS story?

Thanks for reading, and feel free to check out any more BB+B posts!  Share, like BB+B on facebook, and let me know in the comments if you have any great stories from YOUR younger years, I'd love to hear them.
-Brian, the Author Guy