Inspirational ItemsEvery now and then we need something to 'recharge' the old batteries. A little pick-me-up to remind us why we're spending an hour, or ten hours, or forty hours, every week, on Scouting. It might be serious, touching, funny or sad. I've collected some of my favorites here. I hope you find them as motivating as I do! Advice for the new Cubmaster George Washington's Rules of Civility Simple Rules for Dad Quotations Who Packed Your Parachute? His Name Was Fleming The Boy Under the Tree One Good Turn Deserves Another Resignation Letter A Pinewood Prayer Love and the Cabbie If Tomorrow Never Comes We Are Not Experts A Different Perspective A Wish For My Grandchildren
Advice for the new CubmasterThis advice was given by a member of the Scouts-L internet listserver to a new Cubmaster asking for advice on talking to a group of kids. I thought it was hilarious! <POOF!> You're nine. Think like it. Act like it. George Washington's Rules of CivilityI found this in the May/June 1998 Saturday Evening Post. It's an excerpt from a book titled Rules of Civility, by Richard Brookhiser, 90 pp, The Free Press, A Division of Simon & Schuster, $16.00.Washington was raised to follow 110 'Rules of Civility'. The book lists all of them, along with examples and excerpts from Washington's own life, and explanations of some of the terms. These were listed in the article and provide some interesting insight into the life of a great leader. 1. Every action done in company ought to be done with some sign of respect to those that are present. Simple Rules for DadI printed this from a site long ago forgotten...My main goal in life is to make sure I do the best possible job raising my children. That means I have to be the best possible father I can be. I am no psychologist, but I do see what succeeds with my children and me. I also observe other fathers. Here is what I have found works best in the dad department. TIME IS OF THE ESSENCEThe key to a happy child is having a dad who is there with him consistently, day in and day out. It is far better to spend evening after evening just sitting near him while he reads a book or plays on the computer than to spend a couple of hours every Saturday buying him toys or taking in a movie.SHARE YOUR STRENGTHS AND FEARSYou are your child's ally, not his adversary. The child who knows that his father was once afraid of the dark, and is still afraid of needles, gets to know that his own weaknesses are part of mankind, not a unique shame.LOOK FOR THE GOOD AND PRAISE ITEncouragement is the primary engine of human development. I have been telling my son for over a year that he is a whiz in math because I know he can calculate in a nanosecond the number of toys he can buy with his allowance. Now he's a whiz in math at school too. Consistent recognition of a child's strengths is more important by far than vitamins. You deny it to them at their peril and yours.DO NOT ALLOW YOUR CHILDREN TO BE RUDEMy son is expected to share, answer others when they greet him and congratulate those who succeed. By teaching him about politeness, I make sure he realizes that others' feeling are worth taking into account. If he can get that in his head he will have learned the most basic foundation of human interaction.LET YOUR CHILD TEACH YOUA common misstatement about child development is that "kids don't come with instruction manuals". Au contraire - they do. They tell you when they're hungry. They tell you when they're lonely or scared. They are little guided tours of themselves. Children will tell you what they want, although not always with words. Fatigue, irritability and sadness are ways of telling Dad what they need. Look and listen.VALUE YOUR CHILD FOR WHAT HE ISWhen my son knows he is loved for himself, not for any particular accomplishment, he has a certain peace that allows him to learn better, sleep better, play better, and be more helpful around the house. Whether he becomes a rocket scientist or a plumber, I want my son to know he's No.1 with me.BEING A DADDY IS YOUR TOP PRIORITYIf you decide your kids come before your sales quota or other activities, you will find that all the other pieces of Daddyhood fall into place. When you put your kids first, you're getting the most value for every hour on earth. What's more, you have made the most Rightous decision of your life."Men may spurn our appeals, reject our message, Never rise to speak till you have something to say--and when you have said it, cease. A man can fail many times but he isn't a failure until he begins to blame someone else. The problem with Boy Scouts is there aren't enough of them The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands in times of challenge and controversy. Alone, we can do so little. Together we can do so much. Let brotherly love continue. Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. Nam et ipsa scientia potestas est. (Knowledge itself is power.) What we have to learn to do, we learn by doing. Egotist, n. A person of low taste, more interested in himself than in me. When you meet someone better than yourself, turn your thoughts to becoming his equal. When you meet someone not as good as you are, look within and examine your own self. Spoon feeding in the long run teaches us nothing but the shape of the spoon. We could never learn to be brave and patient, if there were only joy in the world. Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall. Shallow men believe in luck. Strong men believe in cause and effect. Good teachers are costly, but bad teachers cost more. No one can make you feel inferior without your consent. "It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who errs, and comes short again and again but....who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at best knows in the end the triumph of high
achievement, and who at the worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory or defeat." A fisherman does not bait his hook with food he likes.
He uses food the fish likes. So with boys. Minutus cantorum, "Example is not the main thing in influencing others-- it is the only
thing." Who Packed Your Parachute?Sometimes in the daily challenges that life gives us, we miss what is really important. We may fail to say hello, please, or thank you, congratulate someone on something wonderful that has happened to them, give a compliment, or just do something nice for no reason. Charles Plumb, a US Naval Academy graduate, was a jet pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat missions, his plane was destroyed by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb ejected and parachuted into enemy lands. He was captured and spent 6 years in a communist Vietnamese prison. He survived the ordeal and now lectures on lessons learned from that experience. One day, when Plumb and his wife were sitting in a restaurant, a man at another table came up and said, "You're Plumb! You flew jet fighters in Vietnam from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. You were shot down!" "How in the world did you know that?" asked Plumb. Plumb couldn't sleep that night, thinking about that man. Plumb says, "I kept wondering what he might have looked like in a Navy uniform: A white hat, a bib in the back, and bell bottom trousers. I wonder how many times I might have seen him and not even said good morning, how are you or anything because, you see, I was a fighter pilot, and he was just a sailor." Plumb thought of the many hours the sailor had spent on a long wooden table in the bowels of the ship, carefully weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of each chute, holding in his hands each time the fate of someone he didn't know. Now, Plumb asks his audience, "Who's packing your parachute?" Everyone has someone who provides what they need to make it through the day. Plumb also points out that he needed many kinds of parachutes when his plane was shot down over enemy territory - he needed his physical parachute, his mental parachute, his emotional parachute, and his spiritual parachute. He called on all these supports before reaching safety. His experience reminds us all to prepare ourselves to weather whatever storms lie ahead. As you go through this week, this month, this year... recognize people who pack your parachute! His Name Was FlemingHis name was Fleming, and he was a poor Scottish farmer. One day, while trying to make a living for his family, he heard a cry for help coming from a nearby bog. He dropped his tools and ran to the bog. There, mired to his waist in black muck, was a terrified boy, screaming and struggling to free himself. Farmer Fleming saved the lad from what could have been a slow and terrifying death. The next day, a fancy carriage pulled up to the Scotsman's sparse surroundings. An elegantly dressed nobleman stepped out and introduced himself as the father of the boy Farmer Fleming had saved. "I want to repay you," said the nobleman. "You saved my son's life." And that he did. In time, Farmer Fleming's son graduated from St.Mary's Hospital Medical School in London, and went on to become known throughout the world as the noted Sir Alexander Fleming, the discoverer of Penicillin. Years afterward, the nobleman's son was stricken with pneumonia. What saved him? Penicillin. The name of the nobleman? Lord Randolph Churchill. His son's name? Sir Winston Churchill. You never know where your actions may lead, or what lies over the next hill. One man can change the world. To paraphrase an old saying, if you are true to yourself, you won't be untrue to others. Someone once said: What goes around comes around. Work like you don't need the money. Love like you've never been hurt. Dance like nobody's watching. The Boy Under the TreeIn the summer recess between freshman and sophomore years in college, I was invited to be an instructor at a high school leadership camp hosted by a college in Michigan. I was already highly involved in most campus activities, and I jumped at the opportunity. About an hour into the first day of camp, amid the frenzy of icebreakers and forced interactions, I first noticed the boy under the tree. He was small and skinny, and his obvious discomfort and shyness made him appear frail and fragile. Only 50 feet away, 200 eager campers were bumping bodies, playing, joking and meeting each other, but the boy under the tree seemed to want to be anywhere other than where he was. The desperate loneliness he radiated almost stopped me from approaching him, but I remembered the instructions from the senior staff to stay alert for campers who might feel left out. As I walked toward him I said, "Hi, my name is Kevin and I'm one of the counselors. It's nice to meet you. How are you?" In a shaky, sheepish voice he reluctantly answered, "Okay, I guess." I calmly asked him if he wanted to join the activities and meet some new people. He quietly replied, "No, this is not really my thing." I could sense that he was in a new world, that this whole experience was foreign to him. But I somehow knew it wouldn't be right to push him, either. He didn't need a pep talk, he needed a friend. After several silent moments, my first interaction with the boy under the tree was over. At lunch the next day, I found myself leading camp songs at the top of my lungs for 200 of my new friends. The campers were eagerly participated. My gaze wandered over the mass of noise and movement and was caught by the image of the boy from under the tree, sitting alone, staring out the window. I nearly forgot the words to the song I was supposed to be leading. At my first opportunity, I tried again, with the same questions as before: "How are you doing? Are you okay?" To which he again replied, "Yeah, I'm all right. I just don't really get into this stuff". As I left the cafeteria, I too realized this was going to take more time and effort than I had thought - if it was even possible to get through to him at all. That evening at our nightly staff meeting, I made my concerns about him known. I explained to my fellow staff members my impression of him and asked them to pay special attention and spend time with him when they could. The days I spend at camp each year fly by faster than any others I have known. Thus, before I knew it, mid-week had dissolved into the final night of camp and I was chaperoning the "last dance". The students were doing all they could to savor every last moment with their new "best friends" - friends they would probably never see again. As I watched the campers share their parting moments, I suddenly saw what would be one of the most vivid memories of my life. The boy from under the tree, who stared blankly out the kitchen window, was now a shirtless dancing wonder. He owned the dance floor as he and two girls proceeded to cut up a rug. I watched as he shared meaningful, intimate time with people at whom he couldn't even look just days earlier. I couldn't believe it was him. In October of my sophomore year, a late night phone call pulled me away from my chemistry book. A soft spoken, unfamiliar voice asked politely, "Is Kevin there?" The boy under the tree. How could I not remember? "Yes, I do", I said. "He's a very nice young man. How is he?"
Shocked, I offered my condolences. "I just wanted to call you", she said, "because Tommy mentioned you so many times. I wanted you to know that he went back to school this fall with confidence. He made new friends. His grades went up. And he even went out on a few dates. I just wanted to thank you for making a difference for Tom. The last few months were the best few months of his life." In that instant, I realized how easy it is to give a bit of yourself every day. You may never know how much each gesture may mean to someone else. I tell this story as often as I can, and when I do, I urge others to look out for their own "boy under the tree." David Coleman and Kevin Randall One Good Turn Deserves AnotherIn May of 1999, a 27 year-old man boarded a flight in Los Angeles, California; it was bound for Detroit, Michigan. He had booked his ticket several weeks ahead of time, and was able to get his choice of a window seat. The plane was nearly full, and a young couple with a small child came aboard; they were looking for a row of three seats so they could be with each other. Alas, there were none available. The 27 year-old man offered his seat to the family, and they were most grateful, for it meant they could be seated together. That meant the man would now have to settle for one of those "dreaded middle seats" (frequent flyers know what I mean). He picked up his carry-on bag and started his search. Now, it happened that all of this was observed by a Flight Attendant. She told the man to follow her, and she would get him another seat. She then led him straight to the First Class Cabin, and pointed out his new seat for the journey. Maybe this good turn thing is contagious! One simple act, with no expectation of anything in return, led to another kindness. Resignation LetterI am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult. I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of an 8 year old again. I want to go to McDonald's and think that it's a four star restaurant. I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make ripples with rocks. I want to think M&Ms are better than money because you can eat them. I want to lie under a big oak tree and run a lemonade stand with my friends on a hot summer's day. I want to return to a time when life was simple. When all you knew were colors, multiplication tables, and nursery rhymes, but that didn't bother you, because you didn't know what you didn't know and you didn't care. All you knew was to be happy because you were blissfully unaware of all the things that should make you worried or upset. I want to think the world is fair. That everyone is honest and good. I want to believe that anything is possible. I want to be oblivious to the complexities of life and be overly excited by the little things again. I want to live simple again. I don't want my day to consist of computer crashes, mountains of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive more days in the month than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, gossip, illness, and loss of loved ones. I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth, justice, peace, dreams, the imagination, mankind, and making angels in the snow. So....here's my checkbook and my car-keys, my credit card bills and my 401K statements. I am officially resigning from adulthood And if you want to discuss this further, you'll have to catch me first, cause, A Pinewood Prayer"My son Gilbert was eight years old and had been in Cub Scouts only a short time. During one of his meetings he was handed a sheet of paper, a block of wood and four tires and told to return home and give all to "dad." That was not an easy task for Gilbert to do. Dad was not receptive to doing things with his son. But Gilbert tried. Dad read the paper and scoffed at the idea of making a pine wood derby car with his young, eager son. The block of wood remained untouched as the weeks passed. Finally, mom stepped in to see if I could figure this all out. The project began. Having no carpentry skills, I decided it would be best if I simply read the directions and let Gilbert do the work. And he did. I read aloud the measurements, the rules of what we could do and what we couldn't do. Within days his block of wood was turning into a pinewood derby car. A little lopsided, but looking great (at least through the eyes of mom). Gilbert had not seen any of the other kids' cars and was feeling pretty proud of his "Blue Lightning," the pride that comes with knowing you did something on your own. Then the big night came. With his blue pinewood derby in his hand and pride in his heart we headed to the big race. Once there my little one's pride turned to humility. Gilbert's car was obviously the only car made entirely on his own. All the other cars were a father-son partnership, with cool paint jobs and sleek body styles made for speed. A few of the boys giggled as they looked at Gilbert's, lopsided, wobbly, unattractive vehicle. To add to the humility Gilbert was the only boy without a man at his side. A couple of the boys who were from single parent homes at least had an uncle or grandfather by their side, Gilbert had "mom." As the race began it was done in elimination fashion. You kept racing as long as you were the winner. One by one the cars raced down the finely sanded ramp. Finally it was between Gilbert and the sleekest, fastest looking car there. As the last race was about to begin, my wide eyed, shy eight year old asked if they could stop the race for a minute, because he wanted to pray. The race stopped. Gilbert hit his knees clutching his funny looking block of wood between his hands. With a wrinkled brow he sat to converse with his Father. He prayed in earnest for a very long minute and a half. Then he stood, smile on his face and announced, 'Okay, I am ready.' As the crowd cheered, a boy named Tommy stood with his father as their car sped down the ramp. Gilbert stood with his Father within his heart and watched his block of wood wobble down the ramp with surprisingly great speed and rushed over the finish line a fraction of a second before Tommy's car. Gilbert leaped into the air with a loud "Thank you" as the crowd roared in approval. The Cub Master came up to Gilbert with microphone in hand and asked the obvious question, 'So you prayed to win, huh, Gilbert?' To which my young son answered, 'Oh, no sir. That wouldn't be fair to ask God to help you beat someone else. I just asked Him to make it so I don't cry when I lose.' Children seem to have a wisdom far beyond us. Gilbert's simple prayer spoke volumes to those present that night. Gilbert didn't ask God to win the race, he didn't ask God to fix the outcome. Gilbert asked God to give him strength in the outcome, to supply the grace to lose with dignity. When Gilbert first saw the other cars he didn't cry out to God, "No fair, they had a father's help." Instead, he went to his Father for strength. Perhaps we spend too much of our prayer time asking God to rig the race, to make us number one, too much time asking God to remove us from the struggle, when we should be seeking God's strength to get through the struggle. 'I can do everything through Him who gives me strength.' Philippians 4:13 Love and the CabbieI was in New York the other day and rode with a friend in a taxi. When we got out, my friend said to the driver, "Thank you for the ride. You did a superb job of driving." The taxi driver was stunned for a second. Then he said, "Are you a wise guy or something?" "No, my dear man, and I'm not putting you on. I admire the way you keep cool in heavy traffic." "Yeah," the driver said and drove off. "What was that all about?" I asked. I am trying to bring love back to New York," he said. "I believe it's the only thing that can save the city." "How can one man save New York?" "It's not one man. I believe I have made that taxi driver's day. Suppose he has 20 fares. He's going to be nice to those 20 fares because someone was nice to him. Those fares in turn will be kinder to their employees or shopkeepers or waiters or even their own families. Eventually the goodwill could spread to at least 1,000 people. Now that isn't bad, is it?" "But you're depending on that taxi driver to pass your goodwill to others." "I'm not depending on it," my friend said. "I'm aware that the system isn't foolproof so I might deal with ten different people today. If out of ten I can make three happy, then eventually I can indirectly influence the attitudes of 3,000 more." "It sounds good on paper," I admitted, "but I'm not sure it works in practice." "Nothing is lost if it doesn't. It didn't take any of my time to tell that man he was doing a good job. He neither received a larger tip nor a smaller tip. If it fell on deaf ears, so what? Tomorrow there will be another taxi driver I can try to make happy." "You're some kind of a nut," I said. "That shows how cynical you have become. I have made a study of this. The thing that seems to be lacking, besides money of course, for our postal employees, is that no one tells people who work for the post office what a good job they're doing." "But they're not doing a good job." "They're not doing a good job because they feel no one cares if they do or not. Why shouldn't someone say a kind word to them?" We were walking past a structure in the process of being built and passed five workmen eating their lunch. My friend stopped. "That's a magnificent job you men have done. It must be difficult and dangerous work." The workmen eyed my friend suspiciously. "When will it be finished?" "June", a man grunted. "Ah. That really is impressive. You must all be very proud." We walked away. I said to him, "I haven't seen anyone like you since The Man From LaMancha." "When those men digest my words, they will feel better for it. Somehow the city will benefit from their happiness." "But you can't do this all alone!" I protested. "You're just one man." "The most important thing is not to get discouraged. Making people in the city become kind again is not an easy job, but if I can enlist other people in my campaign. . ." You just winked at a very plain-looking woman," I said. "Yes, I know," he replied. "And if she's a schoolteacher, her class will be in for a fantastic day. We Are Not ExpertsWe are not experts. We're your next door neighbors. We're not perfect, we are just parents like you. We don't have anymore spare time or energy than you do, we all work full time and juggle our families and our schedules and try to keep it all together as best we can. The only difference between us is that we believe in what Boy Scouting has to offer. So much so, that we contribute our time, our miles and our talents to help our sons and your sons grow in Scouting. We complete authorization forms, budgets and registrations and fill our homes with boxes of paperwork that you will never see. We are required to take training the first year, as well as attend Roundtable meetings every month, so that we can meet our greatest challenge-providing a variety of programs which meet the needs and interests of very individual boys. We try to involve parents who want us to understand that they don't have the time to drive on outings or help at meetings. We rejoice at the generosity of others. Sometimes we find ourselves going in too many directions. We run out of steam. We have memory lapses. Communication lines break down. Time slips by. But that doesn't mean we don't care. So many evenings we spend on the phone, seeking advice and support from other leaders when disappointments or problems occur. "How do I keep my boy's attention?" "What are your ideas for the ceremony?" "How do you work with boys in three different grades?" Our dining tables are covered with bits of rope, menus, tour permits and merit badge cards for each and every boy in the troop. A couple of them won't show up and don't think to call and let us know. Sometimes we feel unappreciated. Yet, these boys can fill us with pride at their determination and accomplishments. Their smiles light up a room; and when they say "Thank You" it makes it all worth it. We help these boys build relationships. Some struggle more than others. Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly - is encouraged by the Scout Oath and Law. And sometimes we too must learn these lessons over and over again with the boys. But we are willing to keep learning. Please be patient if we appear distracted or frustrated or overwhelmed at times. Forgive us if we are not the kind of Boy Scout Leader you would be if you had the time. Instead, provide us with encouragement or offer your help. Keep us in your thoughts and prayers. We are, after all, only mentors, role models, leaders. Volunteers who have taken an oath to give these boys, your boys, the most precious gift we have to offer -- the gift of time. A Different PerspectiveIf you can start your day without caffeine,
If you can eat the same food every day and be grateful for it,
If you can take criticism and blame without resentment,
If you can conquer tension without medical help,
BUT, A Wish For My GrandchildrenWe tried so hard to make things better for our kids that we made them worse. For my grandchildren, I'd like better.I'd really like for them to know about hand me down clothes and homemade ice cream and leftover meatloaf sandwiches. I really would. I hope you learn humility by being humiliated, and that you learn honesty by being cheated. I hope you learn to make your own bed and mow the lawn and wash the car. And I really hope nobody gives you a brand new car when you are sixteen. It will be good if at least one time you can see puppies born and your old dog put to sleep. I hope you get a black eye fighting for something you believe in. I hope you have to share a bedroom with your younger brother. And it's all right if you have to draw a line down the middle of the room, but when he wants to crawl under the covers with you because he's scared, I hope you let him. When you want to see a movie and your little brother wants to tag along, I hope you'll let him. I hope you have to walk uphill to school with your friends and that you live in a town where you can do it safely. On rainy days when you have to catch a ride, I hope you don't ask your driver to drop you two blocks away so you won't be seen riding with someone as uncool as your Mom. If you want a slingshot, I hope your Dad teaches you how to make one instead of buying one. I hope you learn to dig in the dirt and read books. When you learn to use computers, I hope you also learn to add and subtract in your head. I hope you get teased by your friends when you have your first crush on a girl, and when you talk back to your mother that you learn what ivory soap tastes like. May you skin your knee climbing a mountain, burn your hand on a stove and stick your tongue on a frozen flagpole. I don't care if you try a beer once, but I hope you don't like it. And if a friend offers you dope or a joint, I hope you realize he is not your friend. I sure hope you make time to sit on a porch with your Grandpa and go fishing with your Uncle. May you feel sorrow at a funeral and joy during the holidays. I hope your mother punishes you when you throw a baseball through you neighbor's window and that she hugs you and kisses you at Christmas time when you give her a plaster mold of your hand. These things I wish for you -- tough times and disappointment, hard work and happiness. To me, it's the only way to appreciate life.
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