I first got involved with the Boy Scouts in my mid-twenties when my son joined the group. Even when he got too old I still stayed with the group, especially teaching knot-tying to the younger boys at day camp.
It had been a long day of teaching campers basic knots. I was on my feet all day and spent the biggest part of the day bent over as I guided little hands through the motions, over and over again. And it was HOT. The temperatures were in the upper 90's, lower 100's. I kept a wet bandana around my neck, using it to wipe my face now and again, fanning my face with it to break some of the heat.
Today was the last day of camp, so I needed to stay late and start breaking down my area. All of my aides were younger - if they weren't camper age themselves, they had children in the camp program, so I told them to go ahead. I'd close up the area as much as I could tonight, then return tomorrow to finish the job.
Dusk was falling; I was enjoying the break from the heat as I heard the last few cars full of campers pull out of the State Park, where our day camp was held. Knots was taught under a dining canopy back in the woods a little ways. I had an old picnic table where my supplies were kept, and hay bales off to the side where the kids sat as they struggled to make the "rabbit go around the tree and back in the hole."
Suddenly I heard footsteps on the path leading to the shelter. With a start I realized that the camp was probably empty, except for me.
I looked up to see a handsome young man in a Scout Leader uniform coming into the clearing. He looked somewhat familiar, but I had been doing this for almost 10 years - I think I'd met nearly everyone in the program at least once. He strode purposefully to my shelter.
"I'm sorry to bother you," he started, "but we're getting ready to close up camp. I realized your car was still in the lot, so I thought I'd check on you." He smiled at me, and then I knew who he was - a young man who'd been in Scouts with my son all those years ago.
"You're Scott, right?" I asked as I rose from my table and started closing the box I'd been working on.
"Yes, ma'am," he replied. "I'm surprised you remember me."
"Oh, hon, you're a hard one to forget; you were always there to help me out. How are you?" Then, noticing his uniform again I commented, "Heavens! Don't tell me you're old enough to be a Scout Master!"
He blushed and stepped forward to help me stack the last box beside the others. "Yes, ma'am, I am - I turned twenty-three last week." He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "You know, you taught me nearly everything I know about knots."
"Nearly?" I teased.
"Yup." He turned and grabbed one of the lengths of rope we used to demonstrate. "But I know one that you won't know."
"Oh, really?" I asked. I never could resist a challenge. "Show me."
"I need you to put out your arms," he said. He started wrapping the rope quickly, I couldn't keep my eyes on what he was doing. "I learned this one while in the army," he said, "MP," he added before I could ask what his job was.
Suddenly he backed me against a nearby tree and raised my arms above my head. "What are you doing, Scott?" I asked, alarmed.
His eyes gleamed as he looped the rope on a branch above my head. "What I've been dreaming of doing for years," he replied. I opened my mouth to shout, to somehow get someone's attention. He pulled the bandana from around my neck and fashioned a quick gag.
