You’ll find this hard to believe but I was a Boy Scout once, and a pretty darn good one at that. I was my troop’s senior patrol leader before I became more interested in playing with the neighbor girl than tying knots. I learned a lot in the Boy Scouts. Things like . . . er . . . I’m sure I learned something . . . It’ll come to me . . . It’s on the tip of my tongue . . . er . . .
Anyway, I thought it might be fun to see how I’m doing in keeping the Boy Scout promise I made so many years ago. I swore on my honor that I would do my best to do my duty to God and my country and to obey the Scout Law; to help other people at all times; and to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake and morally straight.
I’m okay with the God and country part but I fall way short in obeying the Scout Law. If I remember right (I looked it up) the Scout Law goes something like: A Scout is: Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean, and Reverent. Wow, I can’t believe that I actually swore to be all of those capitalized words. Okay, so I’m not too Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful or Thrifty but I’m relatively Clean and sometimes even Friendly. And, what’s up with being physically strong, mentally awake and morally straight at my age. Maybe when I was twelve, but today I stand behind the famous words of Bill Clinton, “It depends on what the meaning of the word ‘is’ is."
The Scouts have a motto that has stuck with me over the years. Be Prepared! Notice the exclamation point at the end. I think that means it’s really important. Okay, I’m prepared ― but prepared for what. I’m not really prepared for a nuclear holocaust, a tsunami washing away New Mexico, war with North Korea, the day our sun burns out or my next prostate exam but I spend most of my day preparing for cocktail hour and then when dinner comes, I’m always prepared to eat. I get prepared for bed every night but that’s about it. Do you think this is what being prepared (prepared with an exclamation point) is all about?
Enough of this, I’m getting depressed. Let me show you how to tie a clove hitch. First you . . .