RIP: Aquehongian Lodge # 112, June 1938-March 2013

I recently attended Aquehongian Lodge #112’s 75^th Anniversary Banquet. It was the final meeting for the Order of the Arrow Boy Scout lodge that I grew up in.  On April 1, the lodges in all five New York City boroughs will be merged into one.

The Order of the Arrow (OA) is an honor society for campers. In order to become a member, you need to be at the least a First Class Scout and meet several camping requirements.  Then you are selected from your peers.

Those who are voted in undertake an ordeal. In the old days, when I was selected, you slept on your ground cloth, were given a candle so you could read the pieces of the OA ritual. You ate little and worked the next day. Times have changed and thus, the ordeal changed with the times. 

I was an eighth-grader when I passed my June ’84 ordeal. I joined the ritual team that fall. That team is now called ICE (Inductions, Ceremonies and Events).  Again, times have changed.  I took my Brotherhood the next spring.  To obtain that honor you must have been an Ordeal member for 10 months, been on a committee, attended a few service projects and learned the OA’s obligation, handshake, song and admonition. 

As I moved along in my membership, I became ritual team chairman and used to write the OA Tap Outs for my Lodge. I called them “Tap-Mania”. I was copying “Wrestlemania”, something all of us 80s teens loved. 

In Sept. 87, I was elected Lodge Chief.  One of my best friends counted the votes.  The incumbent dropped out of the race minutes before the election. My opponent got two votes. I wasn’t supposed to know that. My buddy opened his mouth. I hope the kid I beat cast one of his two votes. I got like 50. The next year, I ran unopposed.

My dad was chief of the soon-to-be defunct Shu Shu Gah Lodge # 24, Brooklyn. I joined Scouting to emulate “my fadder,” that’s what a former Chappy camper, my summer camp called his dad. I think he still does.

While I was chief, I had to be publications chairman at the same time. I was somewhat of a dictator. But I loved my Lodge so much. I could not let anything go wrong. I was chief of our 50th Anniversary party.

In June 1988, I earned my Vigil Honor, the highest honor you can receive in the OA. In my mind, it is the highest honor in Scouting. I am Eagle. However, the Vigil is more spiritual. Those of you that know me understand how spiritual I am.

I was chief during the Ordeal weekend that I took my Vigil Induction on. Sadly, two Cub Scouts drowned during the afternoon. 

My friends and I were building the ordeal’s induction fires and went to the rededicated Berlin Lodge in Pouch Scout Camp to get lunch. The old one was torched about a year before my some kids.

 

The ritual team did not associate with anyone else. We were bound to each other. We formed a clique. We walked down the trail and saw a Cubmaster letting his Cubs swim in Orbach Lake, Pouch Scout Camp. No swimming was allowed at the time. We yelled at them and made them come out.

 

We ate and walked back. We saw the Cubmaster, who admitted he couldn’t swim was in the lake up to his knees screaming the names of two kids. I was wearing a bathing suit. I tossed off my shirt and sneakers. My other ritual team members did the same. We jumped into the lake and led the Lifesaving merit badge lost bathers drill. We pulled one kid out. The ambulance rushed him off to the hospital. Unfortunately, he didn’t survive.

 

We were told the other kid ran out of the lake. So we set up a massive search all day and night.

I did my Vigil induction that night. My dad came to the morning ceremony. He saw me get my Vigil sash, axe and name. “Alhaquot Aptonen” interpreted as “Stormy Speaker”. I was so proud. But he pulled me off to the side and said the FDNY pulled the other kid out of the lake. He drowned.

I made my best friends in my Lodge.  Many of the guys are now married with kids. Some are getting married. 

When I was chief, I gave out positions to be on my “Cabinet”. Man did I love playing politics.  I was not nice. I was only 17. So if you wanted a job and ate lunch with me in the Tottenville High School “liberry”, you got a job. Yes, I know it is library. But a teacher in I.S. 34, once said all my students think they are going to the “liberry”, not the library. So it stuck with me.

As ritual team member, I played many parts. We dressed up as Lenni Lenape, Delaware Indians. We wore war paint. I was Meteu, the medicine man of the circle in induction ceremonies. I was Allowat Sakima, mighty chief of the circle in the Brotherhood ceremony. The Vigil inductions remain secretive. I was in those too.

The kids that got their positions by hanging with me in the “Liberry” practiced and photo copied the rituals at lunchtime. We were a Tony-award winning team.  I was very dramatic. Once a helicopter was flying over our ritual site. I was doing the OA’s “Legend”. I stopped looked at it and raised my staff.  It circled and flew away. 

I can tell thousands of stories. My friends and I sometimes meet for a few beers and reminisce.

Jumping back to our final meeting.  They called up all the Vigil members to join the ceremony to call out the new candidates for this esteemed honor.

I’m happy to say that everyone was able to join us in the ceremony. Some of our older crowd had some trouble getting up there. But we made sure they were recognized.

The meeting ended all of us in a circle singing, “Firm Bound in Brotherhood,” the OA song. 

Our eyes were filled with tears.  I had an amazing time seeing people, I have not seen in over 20 years. I wish others were there.  Those that couldn’t make it because they had other plans live too far or are in the great lodge in the sky. We placed a sash on the fire for those brothers that were watching us from heaven. We walked out. Part of me died.

How Staten Island Makes You Stronger?

About two weeks before my eighth birthday, I was taken from Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn to my new home in Arden Heights, Staten Island. I know, leaving Brooklyn is a sin. I had no choice. I left SI many years ago.

Before we knock Staten Island (aka “The Rock”) let’s talk about some cool things. It has an awesome Boy Scout program. I made Eagle on SI. Although, I credit my camp, Chappegat Hill, Ten Mile River Scout Camps, Narrowsburg, N.Y. for being the driving force in my scouting life.

Staten Island has the soon to be gone, Aquehongian Lodge #112. It is not really leaving. But in a few months the Order of the Arrow lodges from each of NYC’s boroughs will be merged into one. The best part of my SI life was being chief of the Lodge. I got my Vigil at Staten Island’s Pouch Scout Camp. My Vigil name is what this blog is named after, Alhaquot Aptonen, translated as “Stormy Speaker”. Sadly two Cub Scouts drowned during my induction weekend. I led the lost bather drill. Maybe, I’ll discuss in a future post.

So yeah, SI has some cool stuff. But then it has Tottenville High School. That place is a total dump. But let’s face it what is there to do on the Rock? Yeah, we have the mall. I was a mall rat. I’m not sure I had as much fun as T.S., Brodie and of course, Jay and Silent Bob.

As much as I was the crowned prince of the Rock, all I wanted to do was leave it. I spent many years working in the borough’s political machine. But I never concentrated on where I was. But always thought about where I wanted to be. My old master always said that was wrong. Not that I listened. I still don’t.

The problem with SI, besides it having nothing to do, is that it takes hours to get to the City, the Bronx or Brooklyn via public transportation. But I never let that stop me. I’d either drive to the Ferry or take the Staten Island Rapid Transit. That train is like an old trolley.

Perhaps this is why so many Islanders stay put. Not me. I would get up at the crack of dawn and take the crazy rides into the other boroughs. Or drive it. That sucked too. If something ended at around 11:00 p.m., I’d be lucky to be home by 2:00 a.m. The Ferry schedule is quite a challenge at night. Then I’d get up at the crack of dawn and start all over again.

It makes you stronger. The other day, I planned a gathering of old friends. Some were coming in from Conn., Jersey and Nassau. Although SI is closer, they have an easier commute midtown. But nevertheless, they all complained. I thought of my old days on the Rock.

I had wanted to go the Lower Eastside or Upper Eastside. I tossed out Brooklyn. They got scared. Not of the locations. But they were afraid of the travel. We settled on midtown Eastside. So we had a few people come in from the New Paltz area, a few from Nassau and East Harlem. A great time was had by all.

Bottom line, growing up on the Rock makes you stronger. You have some great youth activities and when you grow up and are ready to run you can. It just takes a little more to do that.

But life is about struggle and fighting to survive. SI can help you get through it.

Comments and Volunteering

Hi. Well I have a few readers now. I am slowly getting there. Anyway, some of you comment. But you do it to me via EM or on Facebook.
Why not trying commenting on the blog itself? That’s the point of blogging. All you need to do is go to the end of the post and pop something into the comment box. You can join too. This way you will always know when there’s new post. I know it is not as much fun as joining U2.com or other music sites that give you a chance to get tickets before the rest of the world.

Enough.

It is time for today’s post.

How many of you volunteer? I’ve been involved with this since I was a little kid. Well not sure the Cub Scouts was volunteering. I joined because I wanted to copy my fadder (That’s what a former Chappy camper used to call his dad. I think he still does.) I surpassed him. I’m Eagle. He’s not. But from Cubs through the Boy Scouts the emphasis was helping others. We had to do our good turn daily.

I have always given back and been involved as an adult leader. These days I don’t do as much as I used to. I guess because I am no longer a Staten Islander. In my teen days when I was chief of Aquehongian Lodge #112, one thing I noticed was we had a steady group of adult leaders volunteering. My job was to get the youth involved. One of my favorite leaders, used to scream, “We need more boys. We gotta keep this program going”. I miss him. I’m proud to say my meetings usually had about 100 people attending. Most were scouts. These days we are lucky if we get 10 people in the room.

I had my core group of leaders and volunteers. I appointed them all. One once said, “Yeah you had to be nice to him and have lunch with him the Tottenville High School Library and rehearse the ceremonies. Then you got any position.” Of course he is one my closer buddies. Perhaps that was the case. Or perhaps it was not. I sense someone may comment about how many trunks I used to carry in camp? But that’s in another post…

Many of the fun adults are still around. Some left us for the great campsite in the sky. I hope if I ever get there it looks like Chappy Hill. The Hill I remember. That was my summer camp.

I never stopped volunteering. In my frat, Tau Epsilon Phi, I led tons of community service projects on SUNY New Paltz’s campus.

I’m a Trustee on the Ten Mile River Scout Camps’ Museum committee. I do their PR and am now on the editorial committee for our newsletter, “Smoke Signals”. I could do more with the group. They are my camp family. Many of them watched me grow up. Some of these scouuuuts (our camp joke) met me when I was 12.

About a year and half ago, I had my best Thanksgiving. I was in Tel Aviv and worked with the kids from ELEM/Youth in Distress in Israel. ELEM-Entry NY does lots in the U.S. to help these kids. I am part of it.

I‘ve noticed in all my activities is that no matter how hard you try to bring in new blood, it is always the same group. Whenever new people come to help out we usually wine and dine them to the extreme. Offer them cool patches. Whatever it takes? A few come back.

Sadly it usually the same bunch that grinds it out. There’s nothing wrong with that. We all know who will be late? What everyone will drink? And of course, who will complain about something?

We are the ones who will arrive hours before the event and stay hours later. We will be the most stressed and perhaps the dirtiest. But it is us who will have the most fun. So join the party. You won’t be let down.

Imagine if we could double our attendance? Just think of how many more Eagles would soar or kids could get the help they need?

Any thoughts?

Nicknames

We all have nicknames. They are given to us by our parents, friends, enemies and who knows whom else? Mine include Vampire, Bat and Shlepion, those were given to me in my camp, Chappegat Hill, Ten Mile River Scout Camps, Narrowsburg, N.Y. At New Paltz my Tau Epsilon Phi pledge name was, Fudd. My frat jacket has my name sewn into it. This blog is named after my Vigil name; Alhaquot Aptonen interpreted as Stormy Speaker. That’s because I spoke with bolts of lightning when I played Meteu, the medicine man and how I served as Allowat Sakima, mighty chief of the Lodge, Aquehongian Lodge #112.

I love all of these names. I am stilled call many. Doesn’t bother me. Then there are the nicknames people earned or were given for not such happy reasons.

In camp everyone had one. Some were funny. Some were “insulting”. But we were kids. We had the Dentist, Space Ace, Dudley Brain Dead, Space Ace, Fireball, Bubba, Rock-N-Roll and thousands of others. No we had millions of others. Bucket Butt, the Porn Star., the Office Girl (he cleans buckets), etc. We often took people’s real names and made ever so slight changes.

Let’s talk about a few of these people.

The Dentist. I named him in ’87 or ’88. To this day, I do not know what is given name is. My assistant scoutmaster (ASM) and I were on the Kunatah Ball Field. My ASM has many nicknames. I gave him a few. Some came from things “my leader” did to him in the dark ages. My leader could be a novel or a movie. One day. I learned so much from him. I am who I am in many ways because of his teachings.

Back to the Dentist, I said to the ASM that’s “the Dentist”. The kid was getting ready to play ball. Just like any other young scout. My ASM said, “why”? I said look at him. He has a toothbrush in his mouth. This kid always had a toothbrush in his mouth. Hence, the name, the Dentist.

I got my vampire and bat names in 1983. It was my first morning in camp. I woke up an hour or two before wake up call. I sat on the picnic table and stared at the snake in the tank. I was near the “Palace”, our office. My ASM was just getting up. He saw me. I was 12. He was very old at the time, around 47. But we all thought he was a hundred. Now he is 300.

He asked if I was ok? I was fine. This continued throughout the summer. They nicknamed me “Vampire”. I never slept in camp. I used to roam around.

Space Ace was from Erph. There’s nothing more to say about him. He was nice kid. He was a little spacey. We called him Space Ace. He would retort, I am from Erph. I am not.

All of the aforementioned, sans the Dentist were in my Troop 521 / 721. I knew nothing about him. Other than he walked around all day with a toothbrush in his mouth.

Some of the names were given because the kids were your traditional awkward teenagers. We were shipped off to Boy Scout camp. Some of us loved it. Some us couldn’t wait to go home. I think you know where I stand. We all took our share of abuse. That was back in the day when you were allowed to do that. It made us men. It made us laugh. It made us cry. There are some stories about camp that happened years later that I will always cry about.

As for Rock-N-Roll, he was one of Camp Kunatah’s staffers. Kunatah was one of TMR’s camps. It was the kosher section. Chappy at one point had been its own camp. Eventually became part of Kunatah. Chappy closed after ’88. Kunatah closed a few years later. Sad.

Back to Rock-N-Roll. He was in his early 20s. He's a strange cat. He used to yell at me for driving the Truckster, the Chappy station wagon over 2 MPH on the camp roads. We were able to go much faster. But he would freak. I was 17 and had my license for a few months. I loved the Truckster. I used to blast U2 and Depeche Mode, as I cruised along.

Rock-N-Roll would stand on the podium in the dining hall during meals and rock-n-roll on it. In other words, he bounced back and forth. One day my ASM pulled his socks down. We wore those goofy, way too big green scout socks. I hated them. I still have a few pairs hidden away. Last time I wore them was maybe 20 years ago.

One day, the Porn Star, he was an alumnus from years ago teased R&R. He would come up every summer and hang out with us. He’s in great shape. Rock-N-Roll was rocking and rolling. The Porn Star made some comment. R&R replied back, “I know you weren’t talking about me”? The Porn Star yells back, “Yes, I was”.

Poor R&R almost fell off the podium. Laughter burst out in the dining hall.
One day his parents came to visit. We were playing ultimate Frisbee on the ball field. He proudly told his mom and dad about us. We had out own site and did our own programming. We did much more than the other kids in camp and advanced much faster.
It started to rain. We had a tradition, if it started to rain during ultimate, we would play in our underwear. I have no idea why. Some of us played in nothing. R&R was ready to keel over.

Anyway, nicknames are fun. We all have them. We must live with them.

I have a few dear friends that every day we send hundreds of emails and texts back and forth reminiscing about these great times.

Respectfully submitted,

The Vampire

There are places I remember

There are places I remember “There are places I remember, though some have changed.” I think we all have those places. But only a select few have the Hill: Chappegat Hill (Chappy). It is located in Ten Mile River Scout Camp, Narrowsburg, N.Y. At one time it had been its own camp. When I was there it was part of Camp Kunatah. Chappy closed after the summer of ’88. Kunatah closed several years later. TMR is still running. But not at the capacity it used to. A few weeks ago, a brush fire hit Chappy. Other areas north of the hill were also hit. None of us Chappy campers knew the extent of the damage. We were told the man-made structures (there were not many left) survived. A few days ago, someone known as my leader went up to camp to do some work for the TMR Museum. Naturally, he went to Chappy. A visit to TMR is not a visit if you don’t spend time on the Hill. He saw first hand how this brush fire devastated the remains of the childhood stomping grounds of countless Scouts. He reported back to the individual that served as the chairman of the Troop committee and assistant scoutmaster during the summer camp season. Immediately an email was sent to our scoutmaster and myself. We were devastated. Within a few hours our, ASM sent an email to dozens of former campers. Now some of us are still in touch with each other on a daily basis. Some of us haven’t been in touch in years. But as soon at that email went out everyone was in tears. For us, Chappy is where we grew up. Hundreds upon hundreds of emails flew. We were all devastated. We all started talking about our favorite Chappy moments. These moments included famous camp sayings, activities and more important our teen friendships. I brought up my memories of being the camp vampire. I used to stay up all night. Very often, I would sit at the picnic table by the Palace (the office) in the wee hours of the night. We talked about our famous dead fish fights on our canoe trips. You see our SM would pile up dead fish into his canoe. Anyone who paddled by was fair game to be whacked in the head, chest, or limbs with a dead fish. Other memories included movie night usually the mindless 80s movies. Of course, I own many of them and watch them religiously. We talked about our famous Action Park trips. I fell off the Alpine slide in ’86. We talked about the red stuff that our favorite Italian restaurant, El Monaco’s, poured onto everything, even the salad. The red stuff was their marinara sauce. Across from El Monaco’s was Candy Cone. A cute little ice cream shack with two broken video games. I visited in 1999. It was still the same. Sadly, these places, like our Hill are gone. In 1984, I scored the winning run for the Sigh Figh Space Gators patrol. We won the softball game and that run put us over the top and made us the Chappy Olympic champs. I still have my Gold Medal. In ’85 a few campers and I made much fun of the kid that used to eat his feet. To punish us, our SM made us clean up the whole blow out party. We spent the night cleaning the dining hall and scrubbing lots of pots. We had a great time. Over the last few days, we all shared timeless memories. Of course one particular area we talked about was the latrine. The camp staff torched the precious latrine shortly after camp closed. But in our minds it is still our hub. One camper spent his entire summer sitting on his seat. It was his social network. This was way before Facebook or Linkedin. Well I can go on for thousands of pages. But you get the point. We love camp. We are saddened by the recent turn of events. But maybe it is for the better. We are not there anymore. Our memories will live forever. Nature will rebuild this beautiful site. One day, some of us will take our kids to see where we grew up. It’ll look different. But our spirit will be felt.