The End of my Childhood?

Yes, I want to write more fiction on this blog. There’s some. I even have writing that has really been published due to contests I won.

But now is the time to talk about my childhood, which well in terms of my age it has been over for many years. Too many. But the things we hold onto sometimes stay around.

Sadly in my case they are all gone.

As you may know, I was chief of Aquehongian Lodge #112. That’s Staten Island’s Order of the Arrow (OA) lodge. The OA is an honor society of campers within the Boy Scouts. In April my Lodge is closing down. Well it is not really closing. They are merging the other four NYC lodges with us into one NYC lodge. It is a plan that has been in the works for more years than I’ve been alive. Membership in Scouting is not great. So yes, this will help preserve the OA spirit in the City. But it crushes me.

Some kids grew up in little league. I grew up in the Boy Scouts. That was on Staten Island and in my favorite place in the whole world, Chappegat Hill, Ten Mile River Scout Camps, Narrowsburg, N.Y. I spent all my teen summers there. I was a camper and a member of the staff.

My section of camp was closed in ’88. Other sections remain. But they are not Chappy. Sadly it was closed because the “professional” scout staff was not willing to make the required repairs to our site. I use the term professional loosely. There is not much professional about them.

Repairs were need on the camp’s last tip pan latrine. That precious building is where so many scouts took their first camp showers, scrubbed it down when they were members of the service patrol and got smacked with water balloons. That’s when we staff members gathered everyone around it to yell at them for it being dirty. As we were yelling some of us launched more water balloons than one could counts. We also dumped buckets of ice cold water all over each other. No it was not abuse. The weather was steaming

I miss every last minute of Chappy. I made some of my best friends there. They include “My Leader,” my “Oracle,” “Rodney”, “Booger” and many others.

Now back to Aquehongian Lodge #112. Taking my OA ordeal was one of my favorite things. My dad was chief of the soon to be defunct Shu Shu Gah Lodge # 24, Brooklyn. We are both Vigil Honor members. That’s the highest honor you can get. My Vigil name is Alhaquot Aptonen, Stormy Speaker the namesake of this blog. His is Shattek, Younger Brother. I’m Eagle. He’s not. I won….

After passing my ordeal, I immediately joined the ritual team. Now they call it the ICE (Inductions, Ceremonies and Events) team. They keep getting more and more politically correct.

The ordeals used to be rough. Now it is like spending a weekend at the country club. I didn’t eat on mine. Now the candidates get food. I couldn’t talk. Now kids carry iPads. Enough. Things change.

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. But I was in those too.

I became ritual team chairman. I won the Lodge Chief, Netami Sakima election. In my first election my opponent got two votes. I got like 50. The next year, I ran unopposed. I had to be publications chairman at the same time. I admit I was somewhat of a dictator. But I love my Lodge so much. I could not let anything go wrong. I was chief of our 50th Anniversary. Our last meeting as a Lodge will be the 75th Anniversary party in March. I hope we get a good crowd. My meetings were always packed.

I remember the day my friends and I were building the induction fires and went to Berlin Lodge in Pouch Scout Camp to get lunch. The ritual team did not associate with anyone else. We were bound to each other. We were a major clique. We walked down the trail and saw a Cubmaster letting his Cubs swim in Orbach Lake. 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 in the lake up to his knees screaming the names of two kids. Naturally, 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 killed 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. 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.

Back to happiness. I spent that summer in camp. It was Chappy’s last summer. Not happy. It was quite memorable. We went to Cooperstown, Action Park and Dorney Park during Super Week. Of course, we hiked to the Delaware and Ten Mile Rivers a lot. I survived Action Park that summer. The year before, I fell off the Alpine Side. The right side of my face was a mess. But it never did break out. I credit my fall for that. It was my fault. I was riding to fast. I got yelled at by the park’s staff. I didn’t listen.

A few days ago my uncle passed away. He was 93.5. I know this doesn’t fit with the aforementioned scouting stuff. But in some ways maybe it fits with the end of my childhood. I am quite upset. I can’t say I knew him superwell. But I always called. I rarely saw him. But sometimes I did. Not often enough. He was one of 7 kids. He’s the last of them.

He and his brothers were pure Brooklyn. Nothing is better than that. They were called the “boys”. They are all gone. I remember hearing so many stories about them growing up. Some were gone before I arrived on Earth.

A few years ago his older brother passed away. I was supposed to go to the funeral. I never made it. Sadly, other things were planned for me the day before. Everyone understands why I missed it. There was no way I could have made it.

At the funeral I went to over the weekend, I saw the grave of the uncle whose funeral I missed. I always felt a little bad for not going to his funeral. Yes, I could have visited the grave anytime. But never did. In some ways this is sort of closure. Of course, I will never have that.

So as I think back about my camp and Lodge, I will always have my memories and friends.

So is my childhood over? Is my adulthood starting? Or neither?

Little Yellow Rowing Hood

Little Yellow Rowing Hood


October 19, 2003 (originally written in 1985)

Once upon a time, in a land not too far away, there lived a family called Hood. There was mother and father Hood and the most famous Little Red Riding Hood. But now I am going to tell the tale of her younger brother, Little Yellow Rowing Hood. He got his name from the yellow pullover sweatshirt granny made for him and from the rowboat grandpa built.

“Mommy, I’m going to Manhattan (granny and grandpa moved to the city, because every time granny saw a wolf she went crazy) to spend the weekend with grandpa.” Granny was running the National Convention for Grandmothers Who Were Eaten by Wolves and Survived.

“Okay son bring the brownies I baked for him and the nails your father forged in the shop,” said mom. “Bye, Mom, I’ll see you Sunday.”

“And don’t talk to strangers or stop off anywhere. Go straight to grandpa’s and if you see a wolf when you’re going to your boat, run! And have a nice time.”

So he left with his little dog, Harvey. He was walking though the woods killing ants and collecting wood for a project to build with grandpa. He was at the boat, putting in his belongings when all of a sudden a wolf popped out from a hole in the ground. “I am the wolf who ate your sister and I’ve come to eat you,” he said.

Little Yellow Rowing Hood threw a rock at him and missed. The wolf laughed, so he threw another one and hit the wolf. It charged at the frightened boy. The wolf was about to eat him, when all of a sudden a magical bear jumped out of the water. The bear magically transformed the wolf into a blade of grass. The boy, watched from behind a stone, fell in love with the bear. He went to the bear to thank him.

The bear said,” grr, are you all right?”

“Yes,” said the boy. The bear gave him a magic oar, a book and a ring. “I am Jingle, the magic bear of Narrowsburg. Always keep the book and ring. Use the oar in time of trouble. When you cross the lake, my brother will be there to escort you to the bus stop and wait with you. Goodbye.” They waved goodbye to each other.

Little Yellow Rowing Hood got in his boat and rowed along using the regular oar and the magic one. He thought to himself, “I wonder how it will help me.” He continued paddling. When he reached the other side he packed up his belongings and docked his boat.

As he was told, another bear greeted him.

“Hi, I am Big of Monticello, I will take you to the bus stop.” Little Yellow Rowing Hood talked to him as they walked through the woods to the bus stop.

While in the woods, a fox, a friend of the wolf ran after the two. Big quickly turned him into an acorn. They finally got to the bus stop. Big said goodbye to Little Yellow Rowing Hood. He gave him lunch for his wait after transferring buses.

He got on the bus and got his transfer ticket. It was a long ride. He thought to himself, “Gee, nobody would ever believe me about the bears and I better not tell mommy I talked to them.” The ride ended. He was at the stop waiting to get on the next bus. He sat down to eat his lunch. He threw out his lunch bag.

The next bus arrived and as he was boarding he realized he left his transfer in his lunch bag. The mean old bus driver yelled at him. “Come on you little creep you’re holding me up.” Little Yellow Rowing Hood looked for his bus pass, thinking he could use it. He couldn’t find that either.

Then he dropped the magic oar, which turned into four quarters. The driver was amazed and apologized to him. The ride seemed to take forever. He told the driver about the bears and the oar. The driver believed him.

He was already late and worried that his mommy called grandpa to see if he were there. He was running through the streets. He got near his grandparents apartment and knew of a shortcut through an old dirty alley.

“Mom always warned me about using this shortcut. But I must get there fast.” He ran through the alley as fast as he could because of the terrible stench. All of a sudden a large sewer rat approached him and said, “What’s in the knapsack?” The boy knew he was unlike the bears.

He ran, but the rat ran faster. The rat pulled off the knapsack with its teeth and found his grandfather’s address, which his mother has written into it in case the boy had to ask a police officer for directions. The boy cried and cried.

He read the book Jingle gave him. It said, if you get into trouble run to grandpa fast. He did. Upon arrival, he found that the rat had already gobbled up grandpa. He was hysterical. Then he heard the voice of the ring, “Put me on the tail of the rat.”

Little Yellow Rowing Hood followed the instructions. For about five minutes, nothing happened. Then the mouth of the rat opened and out walked grandpa. The rat disappeared.

The ring fell back on the boy’s finger. He told grandpa his story. Grandpa believed him and then they went out for ice cream.