June 28th, 2011


Notes from camp

Scene: Morning in camp. Troop gathering before breakfast. Payton approaches.

What are you going to get accomplished this morning?
Payton: I need to use the latrine.
Me: So, what's stopping you?
Payton: Marshall said it was broken.
Me: . . . It's a pit toilet. It doesn't have a lot of moving parts.
Payton: . . . That's the last time I listen to Marshall.

Exit Payton, in the direction of the latrine.

Some days, you wonder if cluelessness is contagious, or whether they're having a competition.
compass rose

Honi soit qui mal y pense

So there I was, wailing away on “American Pie” in the ol’ campsite, when a string broke. I went to my guitar case to fetch a replacement and discovered (of course) that I didn’t have that string. Shazbat.

I checked the time, and it was only 10:30. We eat lunch at 1:00, so I had plenty of time to bop into town and get some replacement strings. I walked up to the office and checked myself out, fetched my car, and was heading out of camp when I passed Ken, one of our troop adults. I stopped to tell him where I was going.

“I’m heading into town,” I said. “Be gone about 45 minutes. Broke a G string.” His jaw dropped, and he got a look on him like nothing so much as a gaffed gamefish.

“Not that kind of G string,” I said.