Pioneer Scouting Days Recalled

By CHARLES M. GUTHRIE

of the editorial page staff

published by the StarTribune

March 5 1960

   OUR SON, new to Scouting, went on his first overnight last week and I gather it wasn't quite the ball he'd anticipated.  Fatigue was heavy upon him when he returned and he had little to say.  He had a blister from touching a hot pan.  He also had a cold.

   We were disappointed about his silence and his sniffles but, being aware of the boons of Scouting, knew the experience was good for him.  Our older son took to Scouting like a harvest hand to hot biscuits, went to camp several summers, made some of his warmest friendships there, and gained independence faster than otherwise would have been possible.

   SNIFFLES and occasional nights of chill on unyielding bunks are small prices to pay for resourcefulness and the dawning realization that mother can't always be on hand to tuck you in bed and tell you what shirt to wear.

   City boys, I'm sure, need Scouting more than do lads raised on farms or in small towns.  They're further removed from woods and streams and open country.  Hiking, camping and the smell of pine aren't so available.

   Scouting was slow to catch on in my town when I was a boy.  It was in its pioneer phase and the program was comparatively limited.  Also,  many of its chief attractions were old hat to most of us.

   THE ROCKIES were within range of horse and buggy and many families vacationed there, not in plush lodges but in tents.  Later, when the Model T came into glory, my brother and George Jackson and I would chug for the high country without benefit of adult supervision--sleeping in the open, hiking over vast and rugged country, and eating what we ourselves prepared, mostly trout.

   This was Scouting in the grand manner, and when a town preacher organized a troop he was hard put to teach the boys anything except the Scout law, oath and promise.  He made a brave show of woodlore and camping but didn't know as much as did many of his charges.  And his ignorance of an elementary health rule brought him ignominy and suffering.

   IT HAPPENED on his first--and last--"overnight."  These adventures weren't called overnights then, and this one was more than that.  We were to be gone a week, but weren't.  The campsite was on the river some 12 miles east of town.

   We got the tents pitched without incident, ate a supper featuring wieners, beans, fig bars and coffee, and went to sleep after hours of giggling, to the discomfort of Scoutmaster Haley, whose first name escapes me.

   Morning broke chill and misty and we breakfasted in glum and soggy silence, wondering by what harsh fate we had consented to this safari.

   ALL BUT Scoutmaster Haley.  He was as full of phony cheer as a circus barker, whistled a merry tune and exhorted us to rise above the weather like good Scouts.  To our amazement, after he had taken on a hefty store of bacon, eggs and flapjacks, he invited us to join him in a morning dip.  To the great credit of the Scouts, all emphatically declined.

   Undaunted, Scoutmaster Haley peeled off his clothes and, with his undigested breakfast, charged for the river.  One dunking was enough.  In seconds he was back in the cook tent, the epitome of teeth-chattering misery.

   Scoutmaster Haley spent the rest of the day in bed, sick as a dog and sick of Scouting.  Many of us feared for his survival.  He was on his feet next morning, but only because of his great urge to return to town, where providence seemed more divine.  We broke camp and headed homeward.

   That was my last experience as a Boy Scout.  To be a Scout you need a leader, and Scoutmaster Haley had had it.

Copyright 2015 StarTribune.  Republished here with the permission of the StarTribune.  No further republication or redistribution is permitted without the express approval of the StarTribune.

One Can Live Without Smoking

By CHARLES M. GUTHRIE

of the editorial page staff

published by the StarTribune

September 29, 1963

   IT ALL happened one evening when I ran out of cigarettes and decided I'd rather have 30 cents than a smoke.  Next morning I wondered if I could survive until noon without smoking.

   Hour after hour I put off smoking.  That evening, to steel myself against surrender, I told my wife I was through with tobacco.  Next morning I made the announcement at the office.  My associates grinned and a couple of them made bets as to how long before I resumed smoking.  

   It's now been 20 days, 12 hours and 10 minutes since I've smoked and I've gulped no "no smoke" pills, munched few mints, chewed little gum and sniffed no snuff.  I am coming to regard the cigarette habit as untidy, unsanitary, unhealthy, smelly and inexcusable.

   THE SAVING which accrues to those who quit cigarettes is considerable.  The habit has cost me about $125 a year, and for really heavy smokers it runs to $300 or more.  The saving in time is startling, too.  I've done some figuring merely on the incidentals for one year and have come up with this:

   Fueling $1 lighter and otherwise keeping it working 50 per cent of the time--65 minutes; lighting it--one hour; hunting for lighter, matches and ash trays--two hours; borrowing cigarettes-- 45 minutes; brushing ashes off pants--25 minutes; coughing--95 minutes; reassuring wife that you aren't coming down with lung cancer--45 minutes; listening to wife tell how well Bill MacKenzie looks since he's quit smoking--three hours.

   This totals quite a batch of time.  I can't say definitely what I'll now do with the additional hours but will think of some meaningful social contribution unless I get too fat to think.

   ALL THOSE who have quit smoking themselves tell me how much better I feel.  I'm glad to know that my health has improved but really can't say that I feel much better than when flooding the lungs with tar and nicotine.

   I don't sleep any better but my wife says this is because there was no room for improvement.  She declares that I appear more alert when awake, at least, and that I'm sleeping much quieter.  She thinks she might find it endurable to share the same bedroom with me again.

   I haven't quit smoking forever.  In my old age I'll resume it.  It'll be something to do while listening to the ball games.  But quitting isn't actually as difficult as the crusaders against tobacco would have you think.  The "quit smoking" campaigns, I suspect, do as much harm as good by building up the habit to the point of fascination.  Clinics and seminars are held to help addicts break away.  The anti-tobacco powwows catch some of the flavor of revival meetings.

   THEY MAKE renunciation of smoking appear about as easy as quitting dope, and the fellow who goes without cigarettes for a few weeks or months is hailed for Spartan resolve and religious faith.

   It really isn't that difficult to quit.  It's only as difficult as mental attitudes make it.  Keep telling yourself that quitting is easy and maybe it will be.  I know absolutely that I can go without smoking tomorrow.  All I need to do is hold this thought day after day.

   I admit that it makes the future seem a trifle bleak.

Copyright 2015 StarTribune.  Republished here with the permission of the StarTribune.  No further republication or redistribution is permitted without the express approval of the StarTribune.