Leader of the Pack: Step Nine

Perhaps you remember the first time you put on a uniform. Now, I had experiences that thrilled me to the bone like getting my own decoder ring or trying to figure out what besides shadows I was supposed to be seeing with my x-ray glasses. You know the ones you ordered out of the Superman comic book so you could see through walls like he did. While those were exciting experiences, putting on my Cub Scout uniform for the first time was transformative. No longer was I, Mark the cute little kid with big teeth and overbite, but now I was Mark, the kid who promised to do his best to do his duty and to obey the law of the pack. Yes, when I put on that blue shirt and pants, buckled the gold buckle on the belt, and rolled my kerchief so that it laid smooth in the back and had just the right amount of cylindrical wraps in the front my self esteem rose off the charts. On top of that I had Mrs. W for a den mother. She came up with the most fantastic projects, such as making wishing wells out of popsicle sticks and a sewing thimble, and creating paper mache mountains for the Lionel train set in her basement. Another special feature of meetings at Mrs. W’s house was the chance to play with Gary when we were done. Gary had a younger brother in our den, but to be honest I don’t remember his name. I’m sure he was nice, but Gary was special. He was the first person I knew with cerebral palsy. Gary couldn’t walk or talk, but you knew when he was happy or upset. Most of the time he was happy. He’d rock back and forth in his chair with a big smile on his face and make sounds that were similar to baby talk only lower and more guttural. If he was upset, which wasn’t very often, the pitch of his voice would rise and his arms would wave wildly. This scared some of the kids, but I knew if Mrs. W talked softly to Gary he’d calm down within seconds. One of my favorite things was to push Gary in his wheel chair. Actually, I wasn’t big enough to push Gary, who was bigger than me, so I needed assistance from Mrs. W or my dad. Gary would laugh and have a great time. After a while he’d get excited to see me coming up the stairs from the basement after our meetings. My last year in Cub Scouts Mrs. W and some of the other den mothers convinced my dad to become the Cub master. This meant he was in charge of the monthly pack meetings. These were held in the auditorium at Grantosa Drive. We arrived early for the Blue and Gold Awards and Spaghetti Dinner, and I got to help roll out the big lunch tables that were stored under the stage. The den mothers cooked the spaghetti in huge pots in the kitchen, but I was put in charge of the churn, which each scout took a turn pushing and pulling the handle to convert ice and whipping cream into ice cream for dessert. When Dad put on the feathered headdress and read the Webelos pledge I knew I was just as special as those little Kennedy kids, Caroline and John-John, who got to run around with their dad in the Whitehouse. Now, it’s your turn. Please feel free to share your story or to comment on mine.