Hell froze over.
I thought I would use the theme of my Facebook post to title the blog post. I thought seriously about podcasting this one, but realized that I want my wording precise, and it is really hard to put together what I want to say on the fly right now, as the last four and twenty hours, or rather the last fifteen hours and change have been surreal.
People had been telling me that it was going to happen. Not because they KNEW, perhaps, meaning they had no direct knowledge, but that it surely did have to happen. Several people, many of which sit in high places. I never believed it. It wasn't a driving issue for me, it didn't matter, truthfully. I have seen people that were driven by that quest, that come to camp for that purpose. I have never understood it. More responsibility, more time requirements, more costuming.
If you have read this page during the camping season, then you fully well know that for me, staff is all about giving back. It always has been. From the first time that I walked onto the reservation as a Scout, and while standing in a circle for the first time around a huge fire, I was tapped into an experience that has carried me for over four decades. I will never forget standing in that line. When Swimming Rock said that we could not stand erect, I stood as tall as I could (I was really short then). When he said we could not gaze into the fire, I stared straight into it until it felt like my retinas were going to burn. When he said our backs were like old women (not said anymore), I asked myself what else could I do?
So many changes, but to me, it is the same, even though I acknowledge that things have changed. I will never forget FROGGING as a foxman (do they even do that anymore?), and "do not swat that mosquito, it has as much right to eat as you do". (they DON'T do that anymore, I hope)
I also remember watching for the omen to proceed. Not sure I understand the need for that change. Never will I forget the hay hook. Enough said. I am pretty sure that the story is not how I remember it when I heard it the first time. That change was definitely for the better.
Most people reading this already know the why for the writing, but you still have to suffer the walk down memory lane with me. If you don't care for the meanderings, skip to the blue letters.
Fast forward to advancing to first paint. That summer had some of the hottest nights on record. That particular Thursday night had a cool low of 85, and we built our fire vigils around the Tapping Ring back then. We were told to take it easy, to not over do it, and to drink plenty of water.
As mentioned in a previous post, in 1985, third session, I had the privilege to be the Tapper. Watching Aiden run some 200 circles (exaggeration) last Thursday, I call into question my memory of eleven laps, but that doesn't matter I suppose. I did make it up the hill, barely. Friday night I advanced to what seemed to be my final stop on the advancement totem pole. Keeper of the Sacred Bundle. When I came back in 1986, there was exactly one Keeper in camp. Me. In camp. Including Staff, as a certain Senior Mic-O-Say advisor had advanced to Sachem just the week before. For some ten years I went out staying with the Braves and Warriors, and watched a significant change in the tribe.
Hey, I am still living in my role as a Keeper of the customs and traditions, I can't help that I don't bear the paint station, it was 35 years, for heaven's sake.
I remember the women leader in the tribe skirmishes. Do you? I also remember how Keepers were allowed to act more like exalted Runners, to entice them to advance. Yes, Runners opting not to come to camp when they would advance to Keeper was a thing. How bringing girls in has been handled so much smoother. Thankfully. Change is painful for some, really for all, even when it is good change. (like banning hazing). Overturning tradition is hard. All the while some of us watched, shook our heads at some things, nodded in agreement at others. Not having authority to have an impact, watching and noting was what I did.
Truthfully, I gave up Keeping long ago. When I came on staff, I had hoped and volunteered to take a station, if needed, but understood that the paint station was mostly for those in the early to mid twenties. I sometimes felt that I was a retired Keeper, though occasionally people came to me to pass their chants. Maybe Keeper Emeritus would be a better title. No matter, literally. And here we have arrived at the purpose of the post.
And then it happened.
I knew it was going to be a special night when a very good friend, and one of the Eagles in the Troop that I had served for so many years, earned the Silver Coup. This is one of the highest honors that can be awarded a tribesman under the age of 21. A brother Keeper, as he advanced last week, I was thrilled to see him earn that. Of all the young men to earn their Eagle through the Troop, he most exemplifies Mic-O-Say in thought, and more importantly, in deed. Hau Hau.
But the night was young.
After other advancements, Chieftain Least Red Clock started talking about Tribal Council. Ken served as the Mic-O-Say director my first years at camp, when the office was in the old cook shack, where the Nature Lodge now stands. Every session I have listened for this, not expecting it, truly, and certainly expected no different result this time. After all, the last time that KSB Golden Words stood before the crowd was earning his White Coup in 1987.
"Keeper of the Sacred Bundle...Golden Words!"
In that instant, my memory went to Swimming Rock shaking the rattle as Brave Golden Words all over again, except it wasn't Swimming Rock, it was Walks Tall, and I wasn't receiving my first claw. It took me a minute to get to the front, as I sit on the back bench, and am a little slow. And in shock. What followed was a standing ovation by nearly everyone at the fire. That was unexpected as well. A former lodge mate, Sean Wolfe was also called up.
And just like that, we were named Sachems, Tribal Council, and sitting on the front bench.
Afterwards, the ultimate tribute, in my opinion. Though I have not been an actively engaged Keeper, my brothers did me the honor of dragging me out of the Tribal Council Room for a special ceremony for Keepers that advance. That may have been one of the most meaningful moments of the night, to be recognized as a brother, though, maybe a crazy old uncle. Thank you.
My good friend and Goetz lodge mate set me straight and reminded me of something that one of my bosses said to me years ago. He told me to just say Thank You, and accept that maybe other people have a better perspective of me than I do. I will say that I am probably my own worst critic.
To all of those that read this and have congratulated me, I will say: "Thank you". I will try my best to live up to the vote of confidence so many have demonstrated in me.
It is indeed swell!
People had been telling me that it was going to happen. Not because they KNEW, perhaps, meaning they had no direct knowledge, but that it surely did have to happen. Several people, many of which sit in high places. I never believed it. It wasn't a driving issue for me, it didn't matter, truthfully. I have seen people that were driven by that quest, that come to camp for that purpose. I have never understood it. More responsibility, more time requirements, more costuming.
If you have read this page during the camping season, then you fully well know that for me, staff is all about giving back. It always has been. From the first time that I walked onto the reservation as a Scout, and while standing in a circle for the first time around a huge fire, I was tapped into an experience that has carried me for over four decades. I will never forget standing in that line. When Swimming Rock said that we could not stand erect, I stood as tall as I could (I was really short then). When he said we could not gaze into the fire, I stared straight into it until it felt like my retinas were going to burn. When he said our backs were like old women (not said anymore), I asked myself what else could I do?
So many changes, but to me, it is the same, even though I acknowledge that things have changed. I will never forget FROGGING as a foxman (do they even do that anymore?), and "do not swat that mosquito, it has as much right to eat as you do". (they DON'T do that anymore, I hope)
I also remember watching for the omen to proceed. Not sure I understand the need for that change. Never will I forget the hay hook. Enough said. I am pretty sure that the story is not how I remember it when I heard it the first time. That change was definitely for the better.
Most people reading this already know the why for the writing, but you still have to suffer the walk down memory lane with me. If you don't care for the meanderings, skip to the blue letters.
Fast forward to advancing to first paint. That summer had some of the hottest nights on record. That particular Thursday night had a cool low of 85, and we built our fire vigils around the Tapping Ring back then. We were told to take it easy, to not over do it, and to drink plenty of water.
As mentioned in a previous post, in 1985, third session, I had the privilege to be the Tapper. Watching Aiden run some 200 circles (exaggeration) last Thursday, I call into question my memory of eleven laps, but that doesn't matter I suppose. I did make it up the hill, barely. Friday night I advanced to what seemed to be my final stop on the advancement totem pole. Keeper of the Sacred Bundle. When I came back in 1986, there was exactly one Keeper in camp. Me. In camp. Including Staff, as a certain Senior Mic-O-Say advisor had advanced to Sachem just the week before. For some ten years I went out staying with the Braves and Warriors, and watched a significant change in the tribe.
Hey, I am still living in my role as a Keeper of the customs and traditions, I can't help that I don't bear the paint station, it was 35 years, for heaven's sake.
I remember the women leader in the tribe skirmishes. Do you? I also remember how Keepers were allowed to act more like exalted Runners, to entice them to advance. Yes, Runners opting not to come to camp when they would advance to Keeper was a thing. How bringing girls in has been handled so much smoother. Thankfully. Change is painful for some, really for all, even when it is good change. (like banning hazing). Overturning tradition is hard. All the while some of us watched, shook our heads at some things, nodded in agreement at others. Not having authority to have an impact, watching and noting was what I did.
Truthfully, I gave up Keeping long ago. When I came on staff, I had hoped and volunteered to take a station, if needed, but understood that the paint station was mostly for those in the early to mid twenties. I sometimes felt that I was a retired Keeper, though occasionally people came to me to pass their chants. Maybe Keeper Emeritus would be a better title. No matter, literally. And here we have arrived at the purpose of the post.
And then it happened.
I knew it was going to be a special night when a very good friend, and one of the Eagles in the Troop that I had served for so many years, earned the Silver Coup. This is one of the highest honors that can be awarded a tribesman under the age of 21. A brother Keeper, as he advanced last week, I was thrilled to see him earn that. Of all the young men to earn their Eagle through the Troop, he most exemplifies Mic-O-Say in thought, and more importantly, in deed. Hau Hau.
But the night was young.
After other advancements, Chieftain Least Red Clock started talking about Tribal Council. Ken served as the Mic-O-Say director my first years at camp, when the office was in the old cook shack, where the Nature Lodge now stands. Every session I have listened for this, not expecting it, truly, and certainly expected no different result this time. After all, the last time that KSB Golden Words stood before the crowd was earning his White Coup in 1987.
"Keeper of the Sacred Bundle...Golden Words!"
In that instant, my memory went to Swimming Rock shaking the rattle as Brave Golden Words all over again, except it wasn't Swimming Rock, it was Walks Tall, and I wasn't receiving my first claw. It took me a minute to get to the front, as I sit on the back bench, and am a little slow. And in shock. What followed was a standing ovation by nearly everyone at the fire. That was unexpected as well. A former lodge mate, Sean Wolfe was also called up.
And just like that, we were named Sachems, Tribal Council, and sitting on the front bench.
Afterwards, the ultimate tribute, in my opinion. Though I have not been an actively engaged Keeper, my brothers did me the honor of dragging me out of the Tribal Council Room for a special ceremony for Keepers that advance. That may have been one of the most meaningful moments of the night, to be recognized as a brother, though, maybe a crazy old uncle. Thank you.
My good friend and Goetz lodge mate set me straight and reminded me of something that one of my bosses said to me years ago. He told me to just say Thank You, and accept that maybe other people have a better perspective of me than I do. I will say that I am probably my own worst critic.
To all of those that read this and have congratulated me, I will say: "Thank you". I will try my best to live up to the vote of confidence so many have demonstrated in me.
It is indeed swell!
Oh, almost forgot about the claws. Before my brother died, he gave me a set of claws, hardway, that he had found. The tips were white, and we joked about wearing them if I ever advanced. To be clear, it wasn't while he was dying, but before that. I have carried them, along with his claws ever since. When I advanced, I went to switch the claws, and my old claws with the wood base, the ones that I have had for probably longer than any other set, the ones that my friend Jerry dug out of the trash, as they had fallen in the trash one night at the store, and I just bought a cheap set, fell to the ground. One of the claws broke off, and the one that remained on the base lost its tip. They obviously wanted to remain yellow, so into the pouch they go, with my brother's claws.
I shed a tear reading this. Thank you! I was tapped 2nd Session 1984 and made KSB 1st Session 1990. I live in Texas now and so I'm most likely as KSB for life (literally), BUT, one thing is always true...those who have been a KSB, always seem to carry a little of that with them forever after. It is well, my brother. Carry on. -- KSB Least Black Pipe
ReplyDeleteTo add, I think only two that I was tapped with are still active in MOS: MM Least Level Eye, and Derek Ward (I'm not sure if he's TC yet--he probably is, but I can't remember his Tribal Name). My tapper is Chietain Short Fire. You were most likely a Runner when I was a Lowly Foxman (and NO, most of the things we were made to do are done with Foxmen any more, and were no longer being done by the time I was a Runner.
ReplyDelete