By the time you read this, I will already be there, both crazy and at Scout Camp. The two are directly related.

The number of Scouts one takes to camp, plus the length of the camp, equals the degree of insanity.

I am taking eighteen boys for five days, which merits a pretty high number on the crazy scale, but when you add in the variables of the heat index, the humidity, and insect infestation, the number is off the chart.

I am so looking forward to this. No, seriously, I am. See? I am there, and we haven’t left yet.

It has been over twenty years since my last camp as a Scout Master, and things have changed.

Foremost is the paper work. I do not remember there being so much. Maybe it was simpler then, or maybe I was more irresponsible and blew it off.

You can’t do that anymore. Every blank must be filled in and those proverbial letters dotted and crossed.

There have been registration forms, forms for physicals, and forms to request more forms. There are tour permits, equipment lists, merit badge lists, maps, rosters, schedules, notebooks, rules, then more rules, along with pages that have no discernable meaning or use.

I can think of a use for them, if you get my drift. We have used enough paper to denude a small forest.

The second thing to get my attention are the procedures. We used to just show up and have fun.

Now, there have to be two adults who have been trained in youth protection, and we can’t be alone with any boy even if he is in need of counsel. I know the reasons why, but was it this bad before, or did we just not talk about it? It is a different society than twenty years ago.

One thing hasn’t changed, and that is boys. They are still the same. They will be dirty, smelly, and covered in bug bites. They won’t sleep except when you don’t want them to. They will break every rule you have. Some will break your heart, some will warm it. There will always be one who gets hurt. Some will get homesick, but that will last only as long as it takes to get to the next activity. All of them will fail at some point in the week, but that is what Scouting is for, to provide a safe environment in which boys can fail, and by failing, they will learn, and by learning they will grow, and in all of this, I will have more gray hair.

I am pretty much all gray now, but in 1979, when I took my first troop to camp, I looked in the mirror one morning, and there they were, my first gray hairs, and not just a few. I still get reminded by that first bunch that they are the ones who aged me the most.

When it is all said and done, and we get there, the fun will begin. There will be swimming (a lot of it if the boys have their way) canoeing, bicycle races, rifle and shotgun shooting, crafts, sports, lots of food, and when they have eaten that, the trading post is stocked with all the junk a boy can dream of if he has the money. When they are not playing, there will be merit badge classes that will teach them essential skills for life. We will have spiritual moments as well, and the boys will grow more. All-in-all, it will be an adventure.

On the way home Saturday, after we stop for a treat, I will be able to gauge the success of the trip by how many boys sleep all the way home. I suspect it will be very quiet in the van, and I can start to regain some of my sanity, but not all, never all. If that happened, I would never be Scout Master.

David Wilson Atwood is a local writer whose human-interest columns offer a unique perspective. He may be contacted, at: www.starchasers.us, or david@starchasers.us