Page 26 of The Falcon and the Foe

Once the bacon was sufficiently stolen, we made our way outside to a clearing behind the Bea Arthur Center that butted up against a wooded area with trails made from woodchips. Russ had scouts pair up since tents slept two campers. He stood in the center of a circle and demonstrated in clear, painstaking detail how to set up the tent. I’d been reading through the scouting guides in my free time and watched a video on YouTube, but their instructions were confusing. To his credit, Russ knew how to break down and explain the steps clearly so everyone could follow along. He walked around and guided them where they got stuck. He was engaging and passionate when he spoke; he truly cared about the Falcons and making sure each scout had a memorable experience. He might’ve been a stickler, but nobody could say he wasn’t coming from a good place.

He had the scouts set up and break down a tent twice. The first time was the walkthrough as they learned. Then for the second instance, he kept his mouth shut and made them figure it out.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t provide any help this time around?” I asked. “They’re still kids, y’know?”

He shook his head. “I have faith in them.” He stood confidently, chest out, watching them with pride in full Wise Leader mode. “This is how they’ll learn. Through their mistakes.”

Russ was half-right. Some pairs got it, and some needed extra help, which eventually he swooped in to provide.

As the most senior scouts, Quentin and Chase finished first. Quentin probably knew more about tents than me. They played by the edge of the woods.

I was trying to “help” where I could. One pair of kids—twins Aiden and Mason—couldn’t get their tent to stand up. I had trouble telling them apart, especially when they were dressed in the same uniform. I re-inserted the rods and fed them through the tent hooks, but my “help” might’ve made it worse. I fished in the bag for an instruction manual but came up empty.

“How are things coming?” Russ asked when he approached. “Whoa, what happened here? It looks like the tent went through a tornado.”

I held up a finger. “That’s my bad.”

Russ squatted down to check out the damage.

“These things are deceptively hard,” I said.

“We almost had it,” Mason(?) said, his eyes narrowed at me.

“I was trying to help, Mason.”

“I’m Aiden.”

I hung my head.

“Not a problem. These things can be confusing.” Russ untangled my mess and relooped the correct rods. It was like watching a master surgeon. I had no idea what was happening, but I knew he was making things better. He hopped up, his knees creaking slightly. “So remember that the rods need to criss-cross and form that X at the top.”

To my and the twins’ surprise, he took apart the tent. We were all back to zero. One of them let out an “aw, man.”

“You can do it. You know how to do it.” Russ gave each twin a Falcons salute. “And Scout Leader Cal is here if you need help.”

“Great,” Aiden deadpanned.

It would be great. I rubbed my hands together and committed myself to helping them build this tent, which lasted a few minutes before Russ’s yell boomed from the woods, distracting us all.

“Quentin! What are you doing?”

Seconds later, Quentin and Chase sulked out of the woods with Russ stomping behind them. Quentin was on the verge of tears. I walked over to see what was going on; the scouts followed my lead.

“What were you thinking?” Russ looked between him and Chase, but cast most of his scorn on his son.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I found them climbing a tree.” Russ and Quentin both had strawberry red faces, but for totally different reasons. He seemed ready to pop a vein in his forehead. “You’re not supposed to do that. You could’ve fallen. You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“Dad, I’m sorry,” Quentin muttered in the softest voice. “We weren’t that high.”

“Yes, you were! It’s an old tree. The branch could’ve snapped and taken you with it. If you fell, you could’ve cracked your head open. You could’ve been paralyzed or worse. There’s no harness to protect you. Don’t you know how dangerous that was?” He made sure to occasionally look at Chase, but his anger was mostly for Quentin.

“We’re sorry, Scout Leader Russ,” Chase said.

For the first time, they looked up and saw the whole troop watching. New levels of embarrassment wafted over Quentin’s scrunched-up face, a face I knew well. Emotions came fast and furious to little kids.

Quentin started crying, first a stream of tears, but then his body broke in half with sobs.

---