As A Boy Grows

                                       

There is something wonderful, something magically compelling in watching a young boy grow. It is a miraculous ascent into the adult world that happens in spurts; a captivating and endearing course of steps, both small and large, that propels him into the atmosphere of competency and understanding.

I came into Nicholas’ life when he was three. A strong and independent, intelligent boy with wide eyes and a ready smile that won my heart. He was so audacious in his quest for knowledge and understanding. His mother and I married later that year and since then I have watched him grow like an oak into the man he will one day become.

Kind, caring, strong and proud, stubborn and yet, fragile; the complexities of who he is are always startling to me. I have four other sons, all great men now who share in equal parts my failures and my victories in this life; and now, here is yet another who possesses so much potential and who inspires me so deeply.

Nick is becoming a Scout. Last week he attended his first function, a bike rodeo. His face at first hesitant, soon beamed that smile that draws people to him and he made friends rapidly. His mother and I watched as his confidence in himself blossomed. He hasn’t had a great deal of opportunity to ride, we live on a steep hill and he gets little chance to stretch his wings so to speak.

But that day, he flew. His desire to keep up with the others, to match them in their bravado and daring swelled my heart with pride. He was part of the pack, a Bobcat in the making with one desire… to fit in. He shined so brightly on that hot August morning, the sweat pouring from his brow as he peddled desperately trying to manage the obstacles and not fall behind.

Perhaps though, the moment when I saw the man he would one day become came when, presenting the colors, he stood so proud and tall, solemnly saluting the flag; my heart nearly burst with admiration for his chronologically uncharacteristic sense of decorum and patriotism.

As I watched him, my thoughts raced back to my youth, to my experience with Scouting. I could remember my first foray into that almost arcane world of anachronism. Words like patriotism, honor, duty, pride, civic duty and tradition seemed lost in the world then, now they are nearly forgotten; that is except for Scouting.

Anyone who has advanced beyond the first few years as a scout remembers with fondness the friendships, the joy at the awards ceremonies, the spectacle of the Blue and Gold and all the frills and trappings that accompany it. Some of us carry the kernel of that within us, buried deeply, sometimes hidden; but yet, it remains. You know who you are. The sound of taps, the playing of the National Anthem, the look on a boy’s face when he receives his first merit badge or puts on his first silver or gold arrow. Yeah, you know.

For all the years that have passed, for all the changes that the world, and Scouting, has undergone, we still stand a little straighter, a little more proudly when we see them. The nostalgia is almost palpable.

So here I am, over fifty with a six year old permanently implanted in my life and I feel that giddiness, that excitement again… it’s almost popcorn time… soon, camp-outs and s’mores and woodcarving and archery and all of the splendid things that will be reborn in my old and weary soul.

I can’t wait for the next adventure.