Flight of the Arrow - by Brent

Once, while living in Bountiful, I was called to be the Ward Scoutmaster.  I only had it for one year and I haven’t figured out if that was because I was doing so well at it and I couldn’t progress any further or if I was so bad and they had to get me out of there before I permanently damaged the young Cub Scouts.  This little story might tilt your view of scouting in one direction or the other.  Cub Scouts is very big on ceremony and our Ward was no different than any other.  One of the awards that a Cub Scout can earn is the Arrow of Light.  It really is a culminating award recognizing all of the accomplishments that a young boy has made as a Cub Scout.  It takes a lot of effort and hard work and we traditionally held a very nice award ceremony to celebrate the Scout’s achievement.  Part of our ceremony included the Scoutmaster shooting an arrow at a target and then presenting an arrow, to the Cub, with eagle feathers tied to the shaft representing various scout virtues.  

We had one young scout that was a difficult little fellow.  He was usually out of control, disruptive, and hard to handle.  With the help of his loving den mothers and leaders he had achieved the Arrow of Light and it was time for the big ceremony at Pack Meeting.  The stage was set and we were going to do it right.  We were meeting in the Primary Room as we usually did.  I had become pretty good at holding the bow about waste high and shooting at the target without aiming.  The target was a burlap wrapped, 4-foot by 4-foot, rigid foam.  I gave my speech building to a crescendo which culminated with something like, “As this arrow flies straight and true to the target so it represents the pathway of your life.  Go straight and true and remember the values of the Arrow of Light.”  Then I would let her fly.  How could anything go wrong?  On this night the arrow might have been guided by another force or just crappy shooting but either way it missed the target all together.   It is tough to miss a big target in the small Primary Room and it could have been a little dangerous for parents and scouts.  I hurried to gather the arrow and try again.  This time the arrow hit the target but the path for this boy was set.   He moved from our Ward shortly after this and I don’t know what ever happened to him.  I am not sure things turned out to good for him because it is hard to argue against the flight of the arrow.

I Believed I was Going to Die  

by Karen

When I was a little girl I thought my brothers were amazing, when they were not teasing me of course. They could do all kind of cool things, like catch frogs, toads, lizards, snakes, spiders etc… even live mice.  Each had qualities that I wanted to emulate. I thought that Blair was especially brilliant. He seemed to know everything and could tell the most amazing stories (He still tells the best stories). I just wanted to share a time that Blair went from being my brilliant brother to being my “hero”.

Growing up one of our favorite places to go camping was Palisades reservoir over by Swan Lake, Idaho. A couple of reasons I liked Palisades better than some other places that we camped was that the water there seemed to be not as ice cold and because fishing was not as good so we knew that we were going to be able to swim, water ski and play in the water more. Many times the girls were dropped off onto a raft in the middle of the lake to swim with life jackets around the raft while the boys and others water skied. Other times we would swim and play around the edges of the lake. One of our favorite activities on the beach area was to find an old driftwood log to float around on.  On this particular occasion we were playing on a couple of large logs placed together side by side. The others had climbed onto the logs and I had tried to climb on but my life jacket got hooked on a little snag and each time I tried to pull myself up the log would roll and pull me under.  I started to panic and could not think how to help myself except to hold onto the log that was drowning me.  Blair could see that I was under the water and not coming up so he grabbed my life-jacket and pulled me up out of the water. I sputtered and gasped for air and then I went back down under the water as soon as he let me go. He grabbed my life-jacket and pulled me out of the water again and I was sputtering and gasping for air again and he could see that I was panicking. Again as soon as he let go of my life-jacket I went under. It took him a few times pulling me up to figure out what the problem was. That my life jack was hooked on the log and as the log rolled it pulled me under and I could not get my feet under me to stand up because the life jacket was also hooked around my waist. So when the log rolled I was pulled into a lying position right under the logs and could not get into an upright position even though the water was only about three feet deep. It was even hard for him to get me undone when he had climbed off and was standing in the water. He had to lift the heavy log up and undo the strap from the log snag that it was caught on. I have always been so very grateful to Blair for saving my life, for I knew that I was truly in trouble and did not know how to save myself. Each time he pulled me up I could see his face and hoped and prayed that he would know what I could not tell him.  This was only one of a few times that I felt my life was spared. I am very grateful my Heavenly Father helped my brother Blair know what was needed and that he was there to become my hero that day.

 

Scout Camp and the Missing Toothbrush

When I was a new boy scout our family was living in Moab Utah.  I had a scout master that enjoyed taking the scouts on adventures in the red rock canyons and the canyon lands area that later became Canyonlands National Park.  The first summer scout camp that I went on was in the canyon lands and was accessible only by four wheel drive vehicles.  We had a good group of boys and I was looking forward to the outing even though I was somewhat apprehensive.  My mother had prepared me and given me the final instructions before leaving – you know the ones like: wash your hands, remember your p’s and q’s, and brush your teeth.  Mom worked for a Seventh-Day-Adventist Dentist so brushing your teeth was important.  So off to scout camp I went.  We four wheeled into a camp that our scout master knew about and it had water running from a spring that had been developed with a pipe coming out of the side of a sand bank with a small stream of water running out of the pipe.  The spring provided water for all of our camping needs.  We had a nice sandy area to set up our camp.  Remembering my mother’s guidance - since it was fresh on my mind - after dinner I went with my toothbrush to the spring and brushed my teeth.  Several of the scouts did the same – I figured their mothers had given them the same instructions.  A few days later all of the boys were sitting around the camp and one of the leaders asked if anyone knew about a toothbrush that was stuck in the sand down by the spring.   I knew that the toothbrush wasn’t mine because mine was safe in my bag.  The question was a good reminder though that I probably should brush my teeth again – Mom’s instructions had faded a little with the passing of time.  I was troubled because I couldn’t find my toothbrush when I went to get it. Could it have fallen from my hand without me knowing it and now be down by the spring?  Sure enough when I went to the spring and looked at the toothbrush that was stuck in the sand it looked awfully familiar.  Unfortunately it didn’t look like anything I wanted to put in my mouth so it remained unclaimed stuck in the sand – as far as I know it could still be there.  It was a long week without clean teeth and every visit to the spring for a drink of water seeing that toothbrush there was tough.  But that’s what scouting is all about to make men out of boys.

Years later as an adult scout leader I had a similar experience.  We took a group of scouts to Bear Lake for a week long scout camp.  A day or two into the camp I noticed a pair of boys underware lying on the ground in the shower. They didn’t look to good and I had a pretty good idea who might be the owner of the briefs.  Later in the day while we were sitting around camp I inquired if anyone had misplaced a pair of underware.  No one stepped forward and they went unclaimed.  Looking back on these two experiences I think that it is better to lose your toothbrush rather than your under pants.

A Sad Day For Me and the 55 – by Brent

Growing up in Rexburg was a good place to be for me and my family.  It was just the right size and provided many opportunities because of the surroundings we were in.  My father had purchased a 1955 Chevy Bel Air for us to use to get around.  It was a great car with plenty of room for friends.  We had replaced the muffler with a glass pack and it gave the car a nice deep throaty sound.  One afternoon two of my friends and I were riding in the 55 Chevy out to Lyman to drop someone off or pick someone up, I can’t remember which.  Both Vernon Benson and Lane Arnold lived in Lyman.  I was driving the 55 Chevy and it knew the way very well and had traveled the path many times.  This afternoon we had just turned the corner by the old Erickson Pontiac lot on 4^th South where the round-about is now located.  The old turn used to be a sweeping curve where you didn’t have to yield and could maintain your speed.  In between this sweeping curve and the next on the Yellowstone Highway is where it all happened.  I remembered that we had forgotten something and we needed to go home and get it and home was in the opposite direction.  It was time to execute the 180 degree bat-turn.  In the late sixties there was a short lived television series called, Batman.  It was a corny show and it had some elementary special effects.  One thing that Batman had was the Bat-mobile.  It was a car that could turn on a dime changing direction instantaneously.  These changes in direction were called Bat-turns.  The only difference between the Bat-mobile and the 55 Chevy was one was on television and the other was not.  Executing a Bat-turn would require perfect execution.  Basically we would be making a u-turn without reducing our speed much.  I checked the rear view mirror and all was clear.  I swerved slightly to the right leaving the asphalt and cranked the steering wheel hard to the left.  I needed a little more room to make the u-turn because this was being done without special effects.  All was going well.  I began crossing over the paved portion of the road.  Then it happened – an old mustang, driven by Jared Shaver, crashed into the side of the 55 Chevy.  He had come around the curve and had picked up quite a bit of speed – like speeding.  In his defense, I am sure he had no idea that he was about to witness a bat-turn.  I felt terrible – I had been foolish.  The driver side front door and the passenger side door had sustained damage.  The mustang that he drove was a piece of junk and had no discernable damage to it.  This is primarily because it had so many dents on it one or two more couldn’t be found.  I am not kidding – there was not one square inch on the mustang that didn’t already have a dent on it before this accident.  The 55 Chevy would never be the same.  We were able to pop out the dents for the most part.   It was a sad day for me and the 55 Chevy.  It would never try a bat-turn again.

P.S.  How do you explain that to your Dad?  I have likened it to Nephi and the broken bow.  I suppose it was pretty hard for Nephi to let his dad know he had broken the steel bow.  The same was true for me with the car.