St. Patrick, Patron Saint of Engineers

http://www.engineersjournal.ie/2017/03/16/st-patrick-patron-saint-engineers/

An Irish Adventure

With St. Patrick's Day and Spring Break coming up, I recommend this book. http://ink-smith.com/product/brendan-of-kilrush/ 

The following is a brief description:

The year is 812 A.D. Vikings have invaded Ireland, burned and pillaged the village of Kilrush. Among their booty is Kaileen, a pretty 16-year-old colleen. Can Brendan, a lame teenage shepherd boy, save her? 

In this Dark Age saga, Brendan and Kaileen, along with Brendan's mute friend, Dungal, are relentlessly pursued by the vicious Norse barbarians across the Irish countryside and on the high seas. 

The trio seek the protection of King Finian, a powerful Irish monarch. His beautiful daughter, Failend, captures the hearts of both Brendan and Dungal.  Brendan and Dungal, their friendship strained by the desire of each for Failend, soon learn that King Finian, as a protective parent, is to be feared more than the Vikings!

My Solution to the Transgender Toilet Problem

Incident at Royal Gorge Bridge

Incident at Royal Gorge Bridge

“Please, don’t.”

The voice came from behind. When Tristan first heard the voice, he had no idea the person who spoke was addressing him. After all, he wasn’t alone on this suspension bridge, perhaps it was a mother admonishing her child. Then the sweet feminine voice spoke again. Simultaneously he felt the gentle pressure of fingers on his left bicep.

“You’re thinking about jumping, aren’t you?” the voice prodded.

Yes, he’d been thinking about what pain he would feel upon contact with the rocky bed of the Arkansas River over 1,000 feet below. Would he feel again the excruciating pain that had accompanied the accident which left him a cripple? Now that his thoughts of pending self-inflicted doom were interrupted by some person intruding on his thoughts, and he was baffled that anyone might be able to read his mind, he turned to learn the source of this heavenly voice.

Her hair caught his attention first. Auburn and short, yet the wind blowing from the west down the gorge flung wisps of the hair toward him. Then his eyes met hers. The baby blue pupils emitted a sensation of compassion.

“Who are you and what makes you think I was about to jump?” Tristian sputtered.

“My name is Gabrielle Archange,” she began. “As to what made me think you were about to jump, there are a number of clues.”

“For instance?” Tristan pressed. Gabrielle stood nearly eye-to-eye with him and the face with the pursed lips before him couldn’t be more than thirty. He felt some sense of injustice that a woman ten to fifteen years his junior could so accurately assess his state of mind.

“For instance, you’re a cripple,” she started.

“And crippled people can’t enjoy the view from the Royal Gorge Bridge without some bystander surmising they’re about to leap?” Tristan snarled back.

“Most people with your degree of immobility don’t visit a site like this alone. They usually have a friend, a relative, or someone else to assist them.” Gabrielle responded.

“Just because I decided to amble down to the bridge by myself, doesn’t mean I’m suicidal,” Tristian protested.

“No,” Gabrielle admitted, “But then you’ve been leaning against the main cable at mid-span where the cable is closest to the deck for a long time, apparently fixated on the view of the gorge directly below the bridge.”

“Okay, Miss, I’ll admit. I was considering the possibility of taking a flying leap. What are you some kind of psychiatrist?”

“No, but I had a good friend commit suicide. As I look back, there were warning signs, but I didn’t recognize them as such. After she killed herself, I was devastated and sought to learn why people take their own lives. I’ve done a lot of research into the subject.” Gabrielle answered.

“Do you feel like you’re now an expert and have to find people to save?” Tristan sneered.

“I’m no expert and I’m not seeking people to save. I just saw you and had what you might call an intuition. I felt compelled to do something. I am also very curious to know why you feel you need to destroy your own life. Would you tell me your story?”

Tristan thought for a moment. He certainly couldn’t do the act now. He’d already assessed that it would take most of his upper body strength to hoist his body over the main cable at the point where it nearly came in contact with the guard rail. Any effort on Gabrielle’s part to restrain him would render the effort futile. He was also tired. He’d been on his feet too long. Suicide would have to wait for another day. Then there was Gabrielle. The presence of this beautiful woman and aroused in him feelings he’d though he’d never experience again.

“Okay,” Tristan started, “But let’s go up to the visitor center and find a place to sit down. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

Gabrielle smiled and gave an approving nod.

Once they’d settled down with their coffee, Tristan began to relate his tale.

“About ten years ago, I was driving up Bighorn Canyon headed for my favorite fly fishing spot on the Arkansas River. It was late spring and traffic was heavy on Highway 50 as usual. The driver of a concrete mixer truck got impatient and tried to pass a semi with a flatbed trailer full of logs. I was approaching from the opposite direction. He saw me and I thought he would drop back to his former position behind the logging truck. There was, however, a sizable gap between the logging truck and the next vehicle in front of it. Instead of dropping back the concrete mixer driver sped up to squeeze into the gap. I braked to try to avoid a collision, but I had no place to go since the river was on my right. I turned slightly to avoid being struck head-on. The next thing I knew I was upside down in the Arkansas with the water rising inside my car.

I was rescued by a short, but muscular female employee of the Bureau of Land Management. She and a couple other BLM employees had been on their way to fight a forest fire near Salida. As this young lady was extracting me from my vehicle, one of her team members managed to get a helicopter dispatched to the scene to transport me to a hospital.

In the months that followed I endured several surgeries followed by numerous sessions of physical therapy. The doctors told me I was lucky that the BLM fire fighters had been nearby and were able to get me to medical care so quickly, otherwise the damage to my spinal cord would have been more severe and I would have been stuck in a wheel chair.”

“It must have been a harrowing experience,” Gabrielle commented. “But, after surviving all of that, what led you to contemplating suicide?”

Tristan continued. “In addition to the spinal damage, I suffered traumatic brain injury and now have to endure seizures from time to time. As a result, I can no longer have a driver’s license.”

“How did you get here today?”

“I have a service I can call, Gabrielle. They provide me with a ‘chauffeur’.” Tristan answered, emphasizing the word chauffer.

“That sounds kind of cool. Where is your chauffer now?”

“Told him he could leave and I would call the service when I was ready to be picked up.”

“And you never planned to call them back.” Gabrielle countered. “So why did you decide it was time to leave this world?”

“After I has sufficiently recovered from the accident, I sought out a lawyer and sued the company the concrete driver worked for. After several rounds of negotiations, we settled out of court. The amount of the settlement was substantial. It was enough that I would never have to work another day of my life. In addition, I found financial advisor who was very good at locating lucrative investments. He parlayed a good chunk of the settlement into a sizeable sum. I became independently wealthy.

I was never much for spending money on things like a mansion or an expensive automobile. Instead I decided to travel. I went to places I’ve always dreamed of seeing.”

“Like where?” Gabrielle interrupted.

“Paris, Zurich, Florence, Hawaii,” he started. Then he continued, “I also did cruises in the Caribbean, through the Panama Canal and up the Mississippi and Columbia Rivers.”

Tristan didn’t wait for Gabrielle to comment. He went on.

“There were lots of wonderful sights to see, fancy cuisine to taste, good wines and activities like deep sea fishing to participate in, but it all seemed rather hollow.” Tristen mused.

“How so?” Gabrielle prodded.

“When you don’t have to work for something like a trip to Florence, Italy, it detracts from the pleasure of the experience. In addition, such pleasures are meant to be shared. I’m afraid my appearance puts women off.”

“I think you sell yourself short as far as appearance is concerned. But, more importantly, I think you should seek out what you might do for others. Not only should you direct some of your wealth to those in need, but try to find some way to apply your time and talent. There are so many places that need volunteer help. Despite your handicaps, I think you could find the perfect fit. I think it will change your whole attitude toward life.” Gabrielle responded.

“I’ll give what you suggest some thought. I’m tired now. I’m going to call the chauffer,”

“Would you like me to drive you home?” Gabrielle proposed.

“I’d like that.”

Tech Support Scam

I received a phone call from a person with what sounded like an Indian (from India) accent. He told me my email had been compromised and my computer hacked. The caller wanted be to get on my computer so he could "fix" the problem. Since I have been a victim of a fraud scheme before, I was suspicious. I asked what his companies BBB rating was. He said three stars. This told me he was lying, and I hung up.

 

Looking East into the Texas sky at dawn. Is this a good or bad omen?

Sports & Scouts

Sports & Scouts

Some kids are introduced to sports almost as soon as they can walk. I wasn’t one of them. I think I took my first steps while my dad was engaged in the Korean Conflict. While some parents “encourage” their children to take up a sport like baseball or soccer at an early age, my parents weren’t like that. I guess they didn’t feel the need to bask in the glory of their son winning the Heisman trophy or an Olympic gold medal. My parents weren’t against having their children participate in sports either. My father had been a long distance runner in high school and college and took up boxing in college. My mother played basketball, volleyball, and tennis while she was growing up and loved swimming although not competitive swimming.

When I started grade school I had no ball handling skills. My grandfather had tried to work with me a little. His nickname was Speedy. He’d earned that title on the football field in his youth. Grandfather tried to teach me to catch a baseball, but, at that point in his life, he had lost the use of one eye and found it difficult to catch a ball himself. My dad, while home from the war now, was beginning his career with the U.S. Post Office and had to work odd hours which left him little time to spend with his children. My mother had her hands full raising six children.

The opportunities to engage in sports during my grade school years were also very limited. The grade school, St. John’s managed to support a basketball team for which 7^th & 8^th grade boys could try out. I think the limit on the team was ten boys so competition for a place was fierce. I think it must have been possible for boys in my class to play Little League Baseball because we had some boys who were skilled at baseball; however I have no idea who sponsored a team.

One summer after I became a Cub Scout our Pack leader organized the pack into a baseball team. I learned the rudiments of baseball while on that team, however I think the team only played one season.

When I was in 6^th grade someone made an effort to organize a football team for boys in grades 6 through 8. I wanted to play. The problem was each boy would have to supply his own helmet and pads. I think this was the main reason my dad talked me into putting off football until high school.

The City of Omaha Parks & Recreation Department provided tennis lessons for a nominal fee to some age groups. I don’t remember the details of the program. I think it was the summer before I entered 8^th grade that my mother signed me up for lessons. Unfortunately, after the first couple of lessons, I had a bad attack of asthma or hay fever so I couldn’t continue. I always wanted to learn the game afterwards, but could never find a partner to teach me.

My parents never pushed any of us into extracurricular activities. My mother arranged for my older sister and I to take piano lessons, but let me quit because I showed no interest in them.

Joining the Scouts was something I initiated on my own, but my parents encouraged my participation to the point that they would later discourage my leaving the program.

I think it was in 2^nd grade that someone passed out a flyer encouraging the boys to join Cub Scouts. At that time, the requirement was that you had to be at least 8 years old to join. I was only seven so I had to wait until the next Fall to join.

The fundamental unit in Cub Scouts is the Den. Dens were composed of about six to ten boys. The leader was the Den Mother who held meetings about once a week at her house. Several Dens made up a Pack. The leader of the Pack was a man called the Cubmaster. Pack meetings were held once a month in the basement of St. John’s Grade School. The Cubmaster was assisted by several other men known as Committeemen. These men helped organize the Pack meeting and other special events such as picnics. As I mentioned before, one year the Cubmaster and Committeemen organized a baseball team.

My first year as a Cub Scout was the best of all my time in Scouts. I started working on my Wolf achievement badge. The badge was a patch made of twill cloth which would be sewn on the Cub Scout uniform. It looked like this:

Wolf Badge

The requirements for the badge were generally fun things to do. The Wolf Cub Scout Book defined an achievement as “…something you do or make.” The Cub Scout was required to complete 12 achievements in order to receive his Wolf badge. The achievements, for the most part, were activities that a boy would probably not be exposed to in school or sports. Some examples of achievements were learning to tumble, making a scrapbook, whittling, and learning respect for the American flag. 

A Cub Scout had to be 9 years old before he could be awarded the next higher rank, the Bear badge. If the Cub Scout completed all the achievements for the Wolf badge but was too young for the Bear badge, he could earn “arrow points” by completing some additional activities. There were gold and silver arrow points.

The arrow points were sewn directly under the wolf badge. To get a gold arrow point you needed ten credits. You got a credit each time you completed one requirement in an elective. Electives were activities like those required for the wolf badge. The difference was that achievements were required, electives were freely chosen. There were also 23 electives to choose from. The Cub Scout could get only one gold arrow point, but could get (theoretically) any number of silver arrow points. The Cub Scout also had to earn ten credits to get a silver arrow point.

My mother was my den mother one of the years I was in Cub Scouts, but I don’t remember if it was the first year. I had a different den mother each of the other two years I was a cub scout. I remember one den mother had a daughter who was probably 13 or 14 years old and liked to run around in tights and a very short skirt. She was pretty and a nice distraction.

Pack meetings were usually based on a theme. At one meeting the theme was the Old West so we wore cowboy hats and made paper guns that popped with a flick of the wrist.

As a Pack we also took a couple of train trips. There probably were other Packs involved as all the passengers on the train were either Cub Scouts or their leaders. Passenger trains were still popular back then as airline travel was expensive and trains could take you to a lot more locations than they do now. One place we went was the Pioneer Village in Minden, Nebraska. The trip took about three hours one way so it was an all-day affair. The village still exists. The following is the description of it that is posted on their website:

The Pioneer Village complex comprises 28 buildings on 20 acres housing over 50,000 irreplaceable items of historical value, restored to operating order, arranged in groups and also in the chronological order of their development.

There are 12 historic buildings around the circular "green". There's a Frontier Fort, a real honest-to-goodness Pony Express Station, an Iron Horse, and a home made of sod. There's a general store and a toy store, chock full of all the goods from yesteryear. An original art collection including 25 Currier and Ives prints, 23 Jackson paintings, and the largest single collection of Rogers’ statues.

You can see a priceless steam carousel, 17 historic flying machines and marvel at 100 antique tractors. See the world's oldest Buick, a 1902 Cadillac and a 1903 Ford, both designed by Henry Ford, plus 350 other antique cars, all displayed in their order of development.

For a relaxing trip into yesteryear, come to Pioneer Village and experience:

• Pony Express Relay Station
• Original Elm Creek Stockade
• Historic Country Church
• Historic General Store
• Historic Sod House
• One Room School House
• Antique Toy Collection
• Blacksmith Shop  

We also took a train trip to Earl May nursery in Shenandoah, Iowa. It was a shorter trip, probably about an hour and one half by train. The corporate office for Earl May is still in Shenandoah, but the company has garden centers throughout Iowa, Nebraska, Kansas and Missouri. I don’t really remember much about what we looked at there.

The next two ranks in Cub Scouts are the Bear and Lion badges. I worked on the Bear in 4^th grade and the Lion in 5^th grade. The requirements for both the badge and arrow points were structured much like those for the Wolf badge except the level of difficulty increased. 

At the age of 10-1/2 the Cub Scouts could work on the Webelos badge. Webelos was an acronym for “We’ll be loyal scouts”. I don’t remember what the Cub had to do to earn the Webelos badge. The purpose of the requirements was to prepare the boy to enter Boy Scouts.

At age 11 I joined the Boy Scouts. In fact, I think I completed the requirements for the Tenderfoot Rank on my 11^th birthday. The figure below shows the ranks in Boy Scouts.

The ranks progress from Tenderfoot to Eagle. The requirements for each rank also increase in difficulty.

By the time I became a Boy Scout, my father had become Scoutmaster of Troop 45, the troop associated with St. John’s school. My dad had worked with the troop a year or two earlier and became Scoutmaster because no one else wanted to take on that position. I don’t think he ever had a real committee to assist him. He did have a deputy sheriff, Mr. Gillespie, who often assisted him and a Mr. Murnan who often provided transportation for the troop. Mr. Gillespie was single and had no children. Mr. Murnan had two boys, identical twins, in the troop.

The subunit for a troop was the patrol. Like the den, the patrol consisted of about 6 to 8 boys. Unlike the den, the patrol was led by a boy, the patrol leader elected to the position by the other members of the patrol. During the time I was in Troop 45 we usually had only two patrols. There was a period when the membership swelled and we had three, but a number of boys didn’t stay with the troop that long.

Troop 45 had four tents. Two of these were the large pyramid tents like those used to shelter troops in World War II. The figures below show an example.

WWII Pyramid Tents

The manufacturer, Armbruster Tent Maker, describes the tent as follows:

Introduced in 1934 for quartering of personnel, the maximum capacity of the tent is eight when the tent stove is not used. The tent is 16ft long and 11 feet high. Floor space is 256 square feet. Tent top, side walls and all reinforcements are made of identical olive-drab duck. Ventilation is via the center pole which has an adjustable hood.

These tents were a real pain to use. The figure below shows the parts of the tent.

The tent itself weighed a little over 100 lbs. If we had to carry it any distance it took four boys, two for each of two poles lashed to the side of the tent to transport it. The center pole as indicated above was 12 foot 3 inches long and about 2-1/2 inches in diameter, so it was awkward to transport also. You can also see in the figure above the number of stakes that had to be driven so pitching it required a coordinated effort. The process of dropping and packing up the tent took almost twice as long as pitching it. First the tent had to be smoothed and straightened into a square. The next step was to fold it into a rectangular strip that could be rolled. Then the tent was rolled up. During the folding and rolling phases, the scouts would have to brush off all the grass, dirt and leaves that stuck to the canvas after the tent was dropped. 

There were two other tents. Both were wall tents. They were smaller. The scout leaders usually slept in one. The other was used to store supplies. These wall tents had seen previous military service because there were faint “girlie” pictures some artist had drawn and which had survived attempts to completely remove them.

I didn’t find camping with Troop 45 to be a lot of fun. It seemed we were always cooking or cleaning up from cooking. We had to apply liquid soap to the outside of all the pots prior to cooking in them. This was done to facilitate the removal of the soot which accumulated on the pots and pans while cooking over an open fire. The things we cooked to eat weren’t all that appetizing either. Breakfast often consisted of oatmeal and prunes or raisins. The fruit was to ward off constipation. We rarely had fresh meat or eggs because they required refrigeration. Meat was usually Spam or canned ham. Biscuits replaced bread. The one thing that really tasted good was an apple or cherry cobbler. Cans of the fruit were poured into a Dutch oven and covered with a biscuit-like mix and baked in the coals. It usually turned out pretty good. Pudding was a different story. Unless stirred constantly, it would burn. The burned portion would be on the bottom of the pot and camouflaged by pudding that looked perfectly normal on top. One bite though, would make you gag because the burnt taste was not confined to the burnt portion.

Cleaning up was just as painful as cooking, especially when one had burnt pudding or oatmeal to contend with. Water had to be heated to wash and rinse the pots and pans used in cooking as well as the individual mess kits each boy used.

The camping environment in Eastern Nebraska is nothing to brag about. The few state parks that are within say an hour’s drive of Omaha, I think became state parks because the terrain isn’t suitable for farming. Generally, the parks are located near some body of water. This is nice for those which like fishing and boating, especially those who have a boat to fish from. The down side of being located near a water source is the insects that live in the wetlands (swamps) usually found near the more picturesque bodies of water. In particular, mosquitoes, gnats, deer flies, horse flies and their smaller cousins. In the summer these can sometimes become unbearable. In addition to the insect pests, the summer season in Nebraska is accompanied by heat and humidity that doesn’t abate much at night.

One of the historic features of Nebraska is the Mormon trail. In the winter of 1846 – 1847 the Mormons made a winter encampment just a little north of Omaha and near the Missouri River. Many of those who survived the first winter remained through the winter of 1947 – 1948. An advanced scouting party left for the Salt Lake City area in April 1947. Brigham Young and other members of the advance, exploratory company returned to Winter Quarters on 31 October 1947.

While attending a week long class in Bountiful, Utah, I went into Salt Lake City to see a movie about the Mormon trek to Utah. I remember there was a scene where a woman expressed her disgust with their stay in Nebraska by saying something like:

“I’m glad we are finally leaving this – this Nebraska!”

I also found the following passage in Winter Quarters: Church Headquarters, 1846–1848 by Richard E. Bennett:

“Clouds of mosquitoes rising from the receding Missouri River during the summer led to repeated outbreaks of malaria. Pneumonia and tuberculosis were also rampant. Colonel Thomas L. Kane, who befriended the Church after learning of its persecutions and plight, reported seeing women sitting “in the open tents keeping the flies off their dead children” while waiting for the grave digger. ^“

Apparently the Mormons didn’t care for camping in Nebraska either.

The Boy Scout troops in Omaha were all part of a council named the Covered Wagon Council. The Council held weekend camping trips called camporees once in the fall and once in the spring. I don’t remember them ever having camporees in the winter or summer. Troop 45 did do one winter campout as a single troop. I say more about that later. During the summer a lot of the troops spent a week at either Camp Cedars or Camp Eagle, both are permanent camps owned by the council and located near Fremont, Nebraska.

I think the camporees were held at locations about an hour’s drive from Omaha. State parks like Two Rivers, Memphis Lake, and Dead Timbers were common locations. I also remember a camporee held in a pasture at Camp Cedars, a plot of private land north of Eppley Airport, and at Dodge Park which is located on the north side of Omaha.

We would depart for the camporee site on Friday evening after assembling at St. John’s grade school to load the tents and other equipment. My dad didn’t have a car so he was dependent on other men to provide transportation to the camporee site. One such person was Mr. Murnan whom I mentioned before. He had a station wagon and usually had his motor boat attached which was useful for transporting our camping equipment.

Arriving at the campsite, we would pitch the tents and store our knapsacks and sleeping bags in the bid pyramid tents. I don’t remember what we ate for supper that night, but I don’t think we did much cooking. I also can’t remember if the council had nighttime program that 1^st night.

The next day we started off by cooking breakfast. Breakfast and cleanup seemed to take an inordinate amount of time. The same can be said for lunch and supper. In between the meals we attended activities prepared by the council. The activities were varied, but usually consisted of some sort of competition between the troops. For instance, two troops would compete to see which one could pitch a tent faster than the other. We were usually tested on our outdoor skills.

Saturday night the council would host a big campfire attended by all the troops. Each troop had the opportunity to put on skits or short comedies. There would be some singing and maybe an Indian tale.

We slept on the ground in our sleeping bags which was most uncomfortable. I never slept well while camping. The hard ground along with the buzzing insects made it difficult to sleep. 

On Sunday morning there were religious services for the Catholics, Protestants and maybe even for Jews. Being a Catholic I attended a field Mass. 

Following the religious services and breakfast, the council would hold an awards ceremony and pass out ribbons to award performance of each troop during the camporee. A blue ribbon was the top prize, followed by red, and then yellow (think). Campsite inspections weighed heavily on determining what ribbon a troop was awarded. Troop 45 was awarded some blue ribbons, but I don’t recall how frequently.

After the award ceremony, we started breaking camp. I hated this time most of all. First the posts and pans used for cooking had to be cleaned thoroughly because it would be several months before we used them again. Next, the process of dropping and packing the big pyramid tents was tedious. Finally we had to line up and go back and forth several times over the campsite to make sure all trash was picked up and any ground disturbed by our activities was restored.

I don’t have very positive memories of the camporees. When I was at the one where we camped in the pasture, I was afflicted with either a bad chest cold or an asthmatic attack. I was coughing all the time. The council had set up a physical fitness test for the scouts to go through and I did poorly on it. When we camped at Dodge Park it rained nearly all the time we were there and my sleeping bag got soaked. My dad, the scoutmaster, admonished me for not taking the proper steps to protect it. 

I think the camporee I liked the best was the one north of Eppley Airport. Getting to and from the campsite was a real chore because we had to haul those pyramid tents a considerable distance. The farmer who owned the land told us we could cut down all the trees we wanted to and I helped fell a couple. I also enjoyed listening to the planes flying overhead at night.

Troop 45 did do one winter encampment while I was in the troop. I believe it was the weekend of December 8 through 10 of 1961. The location was Camp Wakonda, a 40 acre plot adjacent to Fontenelle Forest, a nature preserve on the south side of Omaha. 

Fontenelle Forest & Camp Wakonda

The temperature was about 30°F when we arrived at Camp Wakonda. Saturday was a pleasant day for a winter day in Nebraska, but by 7:00 p.m., the temperature had dropped to 9°F. The temperature continued to drop through the night finally reaching a low of 2°F. Because of the drop in temperature, my father ordered that a campfire be kept burning through the night. Two scouts were to serve as “fire watch” to ensure both that the fire didn’t die out and didn’t spread beyond the fire circle. I think each pair of scouts stood watch for two hours, then woke the next pair up.

In the morning it was so cold that while the bacon was frying on one side of the frying pan the grease was solidifying on the other side.

Fontenelle Forest was the place the troop would go for a hike. It was only a short distance from the Omaha’s Metro Area Transit bus line. With lots of hills and valleys in the forest there seemed to be endless areas to explore. One could also get lost if separated from the rest of the troop. In fact I remember my dad having to search well into one night before he found a scout who had strayed off.

Fontenelle Forest was also the home for Hermit Jim. The legend claims that he became disillusioned with society because of the use of Mustard Gas during World War I. He went to live by himself in the forest. The following information comes from this link: https://www.facebook.com/search/top/?q=odd+omaha.+fontenelle+forest

 

“ODD OMAHA: Fontenelle Forest had a hermit for many years, Jim Baldwin, pictured above when he was young. Not much is known about why Jim became a hermit, although he did experience some trauma in WWI, including having a brother who was gassed.

Jim lived in a hut in the forest, living off food her grew and foraged, as well as fish, which he famously cooked well. He was friendly and a frequent companion to hikers, as well as being a voracious reader.

Jim's hermit days waned in 1959, when two young men attempted to rob him, blinding him with a weighted club. He returned to the forest, but 1961 was bitterly cold and Boy Scouts found him with his feet frozen. Baldwin moved in with a relative and died in 1966 at the age of 78.”

During our hikes we ran across a couple of Hermit Jim’s “shacks” which were little more than “lean-tos” which looked more like a trash dump than a shelter.

In the summertime, Troop 45 would do a week long camp on its own. As I recall, two of the summers we camped at Two Rivers State Park. The park got its name because it was located between the Elkhorn and the Platte rivers a little north of the point where the Elkhorn empties into the Platte. Heat, humidity and insects made night time miserable. During the day however we could fish and there was also a swimming area where we could go to get relief from the heat. I think the main objective of the summer trips was to acquire and improve our outdoor skills. I remember one night we were up quite late because we were trying to cook fish we’d caught without using a pan. We roasted the fish over a fire until they were done and the process was exceedingly long. 

In my second to last summer with Troop 45 we went to Camp Cedars. Camp Cedars is located on the south side of the Platte River a little west of the town of Fremont, Nebraska. The campsites are located in the numerous forested hollows adjacent to the Platte. Camping at Camp Cedars had several distinct advantages. Although we still slept in tents, the tents came with the campsite already pitched. There was also a mess hall so we didn’t have to waste time cooking and cleaning up. Other amenities included a swimming pool, horse rides, a lake with canoes and rowboats, and a commissary where you could buy junk food and craft supplies. The camp staff also sprayed for mosquitoes so insect pests weren’t quite as annoying.

The main objective at the camp was for the scouts to use the resources there to complete requirements for merit badges and to obtain the next higher rank. I obtained my Rowing merit badge. I also got my mile swim patch.

Doing the Mile Swim

The water in the pool at Camp Cedars was cold. Someone said that was because there was a leak in the pool and the water was being constantly replenished. I didn’t get hypothermia even though it took me about an hour to swim the mile.

Mile Swim Patch

The following summer (1965) Troop 45 went to Camp Eagle for the summer. As the crow flies, Camp Eagle is only 1.5 miles from Camp Cedars. Like Cedars part of the camp is bounded by the Platte River.

The campsites at Camp Eagle had pre-erected tents on timber platforms and it had a swimming pool and horse barn. There was no mess hall though and the troops had to cook all their meals. There was a store at Camp Eagle that provided fresh meat and eggs (and undoubtedly other things) so a troop could have variety in their meals. The camp also provided wooden storage boxes called patrol boxes.

Patrol Kitchen Box

These were useful for storing cooking gear or nonperishable food.  We learned, however, they were not raccoon proof. Once we left a partial loaf of bread secured in the box. The next morning we discovered a raccoon had chewed a hole in the box and helped himself to the bread inside.

The terrain at Camp Eagle was much like that at Camp Cedars, hills interspersed with ravines. As one got nearer the Platte River, there was a swampy area. Mosquitoes and deer flies were abundant, nagging pests. If you didn’t wear a hat, the deer flies liked to buzz through your hair.

A few years later, I worked on the Camp Eagle staff. I took care of the horses and took the scouts on trail rides. The horse I usually rode was white. As we meandered on the trail through the swampy area, so many mosquitoes would land on the horse’s neck that I could kill dozens with one swat of the hand, leaving red streaks of blood behind.

I went to Camp Eagle as a camper in the summer of 1965. I had actually completed my first year of high school and was no longer at St. John’s. This was my last camping trip with Troop 45. That summer I earned my Horsemanship and Camping merit badges.

Although I wasn’t thrilled with camping, I did like working on merit badges. The following illustration comes from the December 1960 edition of the Boy’s Life, a monthly magazine of the Boy Scouts of America.

This got me excited about being an astronaut and I started working on the Aviation merit badge.

I eventually acquired 16 merit badges. Not all of them were fun to work on. Some, like cooking and camping I only completed because they were required for Eagle rank. The ones in the following picture were my favorites.

I think I was one of the first in the Covered Wagon Council to get the Atomic Energy merit badge. The merit badge was created in 1963 but the pamphlet (see below) didn’t get published until 1965. When I first started to work on the badge I had to write the Atomic Energy Commission to get some information to get started. I didn’t actually get the badge until 1966, but I don’t remember the reason for the delay.

I continued in Boy Scouts through my high school years (September 1964 – May 1968) but I left Troop 45 for Troop 100 in 1965 because we had moved and Troop 100 held their meetings in the basement of St. Cecilia’s Grade School which was a lot closer to the new home. I found camping with Troop 100 to be more pleasant than Troop 45, but that is a story for another time.