Behind nearly every Eagle is a great threat. Here are some I've heard over the years:
- No driver's license till Eagle
- Can't participate in a sport or activity
- Denial of college support/tuition
- General shunning from parents outside of legally required support
- Pouring honey in hair while asleep (no joke)
I come from a line of Scouting. For my father, Scouts was like sports for me. Going to Philmont was like the Superbowl in Dallas with the big screen. His father got the Silver Beaver and by heaven, his offspring would have their Eagle. When he tragically died on the Klondike, my Eagle became not just a goal, but an unbreakable blood oath. So I add my threat to the list (never issued to me, but clearly implied by the Universe):
- DON'T SHAME THE MEMORY OF YOUR DECEASED FATHER WHO DIED IN THE ACT OF SCOUTING.
A taste of things to come? |
I am a disgrace.
I don't own a scout uniform anymore. I don't fancy wearing hankies around my neck. I'm not sure I can name all of the ranks correctly in order right now or recite the scout law. I know many non-Mormons find our approach to rushing kids through the Eagle (such as me) disgraceful. So why do I sit in the Eagle's nest? My mother worked too hard for me not to. If I rejected the nest, I would be rejecting the sacrifice of my parents.
Will I impose the Eagle standard on my own son? No.
I will encourage him and help, but no threats. I declare this here and now in the presence of you three readers!!
Why? If he gets his Eagle, I want him to be able to hold his head up in the Eagle's Nest with clear eyes and a full heart. Able wrestle a bear into submission, lash massive towers together with elaborate knots and eat things that would make a Billy-goat puke. The way a real Eagle should be.
3 comments:
I guess i am one of the three readers :).I think that is good u won't push Gator, encouraging is better
I think if you talked to Stone about dad as young kid, you'd be surprised (or may already know) he considered himself a turkey, or at least aloof from scouting.
I can see you growing into it at age 40, lemonade in hand, roasting little smokies over an open fire.
Moreover, as a duly commissioned scout master, I can picture you sprouting eagle's wings and developing an unbreakable intestinal fortitude.
Buck up, little camper, I have hope for you, yet. (Especially as believe I too received my badge just before the point of no return.)
I think we all received our Eagles just before the point of no return.
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