My younger son wants to be a Cub Scout.
You would think any parent would be excited and proud. But no -- pinkos that we are, my husband and I were immediately unsure and then came the actual first "pack" meeting. That was when the concerns really began to flow.
It makes me wonder what Cub Scout Leaders think when a parent asks if his child has to march with the war veterans in the town Memorial Day parade. Couldn't the kids be separate from the soldiers? Well sir, this is the Scouts. I also wonder what it feels like to wear a neckerchief in your 40's.
I wonder what my son thought when I asked him if he felt like doing the oath each meeting. When he shrugged, I pointed out that, for instance, there was a bit about God. "That's cool," he told me. "I believe in God." I do too -- and again, most parents would smile warmly at their little angel. I crinkled my brow and worried that the whole "Law of the Pack" thing sounded too much like the Hitler Youth.
But who are we to put a cramp in his little scout-heart? Off he goes to cook-outs, go-cart derbies, sleep-overs, and Christmas toy drives. God bless him and God bless America. He can learn a sense of social questioning and healthy cynicism right here in the bosom of his family. No uniform required.
This is post is dedicated to my sweet Sheila, who got out of the Tower six years ago today.