Court of Honor

Last Sunday, I participated in the for my nephew's Eagle Scout Court of Honor. It has been years since I was around Boy Scouts and it was both new and familiar to me.

My son was involved with Cub Scouts, but declined to continue with Boy Scouts when he turned eleven. I, on the other hand, was certain that I wanted to continue from Cub to Boy Scouts. I remember coming home from an early Boy Scout meeting and declaring that I was going to become an Eagle Scout.

I had a wonderful time as a Boy Scout. My troop had a scheduled outing each month and in that way went on my first backpack at age eleven. I learned how to build a fire, cook a meal over flames, carry my gear over miles of muddy trail, sleep in a tent in the rain, and generally have a good time in the out of doors. From that early experience, I was able to become a confident hiker and backpacker. I've carried that with me for over four decades. I also made friends that I've kept all these years.

And, although it took longer than my father believed that it should have, I did earn my Eagle Scout award. For this reason, my nephew asked me to participate in the ceremony, reading the Charge and the Pledge, just before he received the award.

I was proud to be asked and happy to agree to do this. I did so, however, with some ambivalence, as I have problems with the national leadership of the Boy Scouts. To my mind, the national program has been taken over by narrow-minded fanatics who have turned their backs on the inclusive and (dare I say it?) liberal tradition of the best of the Scouts. The program I grew up with emphasized diversity (before it earned that name and became a cliché and lightening rod). In those days, of course, it was race. It's been a sad degeneration from those idealistic days.

But, I understand that all of these kinds of experiences are local -- much depends on the leadership of the troop -- so I went and participated.

There aren't enough of these kinds of events. There are so few that mark a young person's entry into a wider sphere of his community. I think a longing for this kind of recognized rite of passage is behind the proliferation of school graduation ceremonies. It's too bad we can't do better than that.

I was pleased with the whole ceremony. The portion of the troop that attended was diverse and reminded me of the kids that I consorted with as a Scout. The leadership clearly cared for the boys and everyone seemed very comfortable with each other. I was also pleased with the words that my nephew selected for me to read. They were wise and true.

I was proud to stand on that stage with him, in front of his family, his friends, his mentors, his troop members, and his fellow Eagle Scouts, and charge him with living up to the potential of his achievement.

Jo Jenner

A very special person, whom I was proud to call a friend, died last weekend. I met Jo Jenner at a discussion group we call The Salon in late 1992. She had recently lost her husband, Julian, and was spreading out a little into the community. I was struck, at the time, by her dignity and her sadness.

The Olympian had a very nice article about her impact on the community of artists in town and an obituary (link to search: search for ‘jenner’) with an excellent photo and details about her life that were new to me.

She was a generous, intelligent, sensitive, strong, and creative woman. The obituary has a story about her that gets to some of the kind of person she was, showing her sense of justice and her sense of humor:

Mr. Jenner's banking career led to a four-year posting in Hong Kong for the National Bank of Commerce in 1967, and Jo worked as a volunteer for several years with the Family Planning Council there. Her creation of a promotional poster featuring a pregnant man earned international media attention.

I hope that I am as creative, connected, and committed as Jo was when I’m her age. We’ll miss you, Jo.

Cross-posted at OlyBlog

Update 4/18: A commenter notes that there was a memorial for Jo this past weekend. I'm sorry I missed it. Our Salon had its own remembrance of her in a meeting shortly after her death. By the next meeting, we used the example that she set for us to re-energize the group.

Jo joined the Salon in its first year; she stayed with us for several years. She hosted our first feast. But as she got older and her energy waned, she made a choice to drop regular attendance and direct her energies in other pursuits. She did so with her usual grace and clarity, so that we all knew and understood what she meant.

The Salon is now in its fifteenth year. In the last year, though, it has been in a very low energy phase. Because of this, our last meeting was a discussion of whether and, if so, how to continue the Salon. Jo's example was our guide.

We wanted to honor her gift to us by making an open, clear, and intentional decision about continuing, rather than just fading away. Thanks to that clear beacon, we were able to realize that we did want to continue and recommitted to the Salon. Thanks, Jo.

The Wedding

I went to the wedding of a dear friend last weekend. The bride is a young woman whom I have known since her birth. In fact, I’d known her father since the year I graduated from high school. We’d been camp counselors for several summers and, once I dropped out of college, roommates and hiking partners. By the time we were both married and living in town here, I considered him one of my two closest friends. When my children’s mother and I separated and then divorced, he was the best friend a man could have. For a time, he called me every day. He was also a loving and nurturing father, very much focused on making a good home for his children.

Something began to happen to him when he and the mother of his children separated and then divorced. I’ve seen others go through a period of exaggerated fears, you might even say paranoia, about the people around them when they receive this sort of blow. I felt the creepy pull of fear and blame myself, while I was trying to get my balance as a suddenly-single person. Still, he embraced his anger to a frightening degree. So much so, that he began to blame his children, whom he had so sheltered and nurtured only a few months before. As hard as I worked to be the friend to him that he was for me, I eventually found myself unable to understand him and to offer him the support he needed. While his soon-to-be ex was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, his lashing out at his children deeply offended my sense of what it is to be a parent. By the time he was divorced and partnering with another woman, he had essentially divorced his children, as well.

Somehow, along the way, he developed a sort of religious explanation for his abandonment of his children, but by that time, we were no longer talking. He has since moved out of state and is raising another set of children, only rarely seeing his first. I haven’t spoken to him in years. Nor did I get the opportunity at his daughter’s wedding, because he refused to attend. To their credit, his mother, brother, and sister and her family did attend, but it only served to highlight the person who was missing. It was heartbreaking.