For those who are interested, here are the original pictures from the May 1962 copy of Boys’ Life:
For me, the latest news is still an uneasy thought to accept. Knowing now what I didn’t know then, that there were gay boys in my school, one who knew he was gay at 12…he used to tickle me and giggle because tickling caused me to get an erection. He never touched my erection but he did admit getting a thrill tickling me, which I avoided getting tickled by him even more after his admission.
He was in Boy Scouts with me. We earned more than one merit badge together, both of us interested in nature, studying birds and wildlife habitats, taking notes and sharing with other Boy Scouts.
I admit I was attracted to his intellect but I was not sexually attracted to him.
He went on to earn academic honours at CalTech as well as achieved business accolades.
I sit here and look at my Boy Scout achievements, including the milestone of Eagle Scout:
I guess the Boy Scouts of America have adjusted to a changing United States of America.
What will the troop leaders face now that openly-gay Scouts are officially accepted?
Will they have to worry not only about boys getting knife cuts while whittling and third-degree burns from roasting marshmallows but also listen carefully at night to make sure a curious gay boy will not make a pass at a fellow tentmate?
Will a tickler of the 1970s attempt a kiss, instead, in the 2010s?
My wife and I have briefly discussed this issue — when we did, my scalp felt on fire, which told me this is important for me to consider further.
How do I separate the code of honour I upheld as a Boy Scout — reconciling that the fact that homosexuality is a physical/mental wiring issue rather than a[n] [im]moral act against the fact that boys become sexually active in their early teens, some more active than others — from the genetic code that children are born with?
It is not a simple matter that I can easily and simply dismiss.
Are all openly-gay boys effeminate?
If so, will they and their parents push for sewing/fashion and home decorating Boy Scout merit badges?
Regardless of gender preference/attraction, Boy Scouts is about learning new skills, including wilderness survival but also skills in the civilised world, such as computers and citizenship.
I have always been willing to hold discordant views in my thoughts and these definitely clash: I accept gays and lesbians as friends even though a part of me sees anything but a heterosexual relationship as unnatural, a sign that nature has a way of putting the brakes on overpopulation.
However, building rockets and exploring the cosmos is an unnatural act of sorts in my thoughts yet I want our species to create networks of beings/technology that branch out from the solar system and into the neighbouring sections of our galaxy.
Unnatural is a word to describe a condition of one or more sets of states of energy in flux.
I will think more about this and hope to record here my thoughts on the matter.
Until next time, my wife and I will continue to share our lives together, including a tour of Air Force One a couple of years ago.
Au revoir!
For some, a shock heard ’round the world. For others, what they’ve waited for.
Either way, here’s an alternative history lesson — what if the Boy Scouts integrated homosexual boys back in 1962? Let’s take a look…bringing the innocence of 1962 into this new controversy…
This issue also sponsored by the following:
…am I, are we all, a type of bigoted, racist Archie Bunker?
Does our short-sightedness reflect something else?
Thus, watching a film, The Human Stain, to discover if so and why.
A shoutout to Reverend Tom today for a good message.
The pastor at my hometown church, the man who dropped everything at all hours of the day and night to be with my family a year ago as my father lay dying, had a few good words to say during Mother’s Day, the last day of the Easter season in the Christian religion tradition.
In reference to the Bible passage that Tom called the “high priest” prayer by Jesus, the 17th section of the book of John, a set of tales told in sequence by a good storyteller, a personal witness of the events, per tradition, Tom said that we should commit to prayer before taking action, just like a Sunday service is itself a continuous prayer — children’s choir, hymnal songs, sermons, prayers, etc. — in preparation for the rest of the week ahead.
And, as Jesus said, our goal, he prayed, is that we might be one, a species in unity like Jesus was united to God, his father.
Despite our differences.
Unity in Christ is bigger than our differences, in other words.
Unity, not uniform behaviour/looks, in seeking the love of Jesus and our expressi0n of unity through charity.
Ultimately, the question is not that or how we disagree in our forms of prayers and understanding of the words given to us, but on what unity in Christ we agree to share with others.
We are tiny specks, children of the universe, who rarely grasp the intricacies of life, from the interaction of sets of states of energy at subsubsubatomic levels, to daily social problems and solutions, to connections at time scales of galactic levels.
We are, however, members of the same species, regardless of subcultures, belief sets, clothing choices or musical preferences.
Let us treat each other as if we live on the same planet.
I, for one, seek out the best ideas and practices within our species to move us out of the doldrums — away from the tautological chaos (making fun of our seriousness when misplaced), toward the application of useful chaos (where theory meets practicality) — and into the later decades of this century with one word on our lips — success.
Actions speak louder than words.
Thanks, Tom. Your words today have moved me to action, humbling me out of my selfish, temporary depression, realising even the tiniest speck, me, has a place with all the others to make a worthwhile difference, especially when we work together as one in pursuit of unified motives, allowing subcultures to contribute at their own pace and own voice.
NOTE: Kent Blazier was my pediatrician many decades ago. Kristy Urquhart is a high school classmate.
My friends in the American sport known affectionately as the NFL have argued with me that just because they like wearing tight pants, gloves and fancy, shiny, bejeweled hats does not, in fact, imply that they are anything more than normal heterosexual men, neither gay nor bisexual, and certainly not cross-dressers or transsexuals.
Well, who am I to counter-argue?
After all, my fat-to-muscle ratio is entirely out of proportion to theirs and my 40-yard dash is more like a 40-yard wheezing shuffle.
Don’t get me wrong. I like a good argument.
Let’s look at some examples of what a good football game could look like if we decided not to take the players at their word.
Like this one, a nice, muddy reenactment of the Battle of Pearl Harbour.
Now, compare it to its “opposite”, a muddy NFL game — is there really any difference?
I mean, if women are willing to play football in their skivvies, what are guys all wrapped up in pads trying prove?
Let’s take another look: helmet-to-helmet hit vs. the Battle of Hastings vs. NFL players at their toughest vs. other guys in outfits dancing.
I don’t know…is there that much difference? Seems like the first video was the toughest of the bunch.
Of course, what takes place in the locker room afterward may seal the deal but it’s not my business who likes taking group showers.
I won’t bother you with comparing ballet performances to NBA games — you’ve surely already seen those comparisons….or NHL games to Disney on Ice…or…Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson in a tutu???
Leo Cawley, Vietnam veteran:
There is almost no human activity that is as intensely social as modern warfare… When a military unit loses its internal cohesion and starts to fight as individuals there is such a radical and unfavourable change in the casualty ratio that it is almost always decisive… Every general staff in the world since 1914 has known that the bravery of individual soldiers in modern war is about as essential as whether they are handsome.
J.G. Ballard:
…the slaughter in Star Wars, quite apart from the destruction of an entire populated planet, is unrelieved for two hours, and at times stacks the corpses halfway up the screen. Losing track of the huge bodycount, I thought at first that the film might be some weird, unintentional parable of the US involvement in Vietnam, with the plucky hero from the backward planet and his scratch force of reject robots and gook-like extraterrestrials fighting bravely against the evil and all-destructive super-technology of the Galactic Empire. Whatever the truth, it’s strange that the film gets a U certificate — two hours of Star Wars must be one of the most efficient means of weaning your pre-teen child from any fear of, or sensitivity towards, the death of others.
The pulsing migraine headache that has dogged me from the moment I was born is pulsating “louder” than ever today.
I am screaming in my thoughts in order to be heard, using alliteration as method to contain the contagion of madness that wants to spread into the rest of my body.
Using old tricks of my youth to hide my insanity from the rest of the world — running through vocabulary words in any language to keep myself connected with the society into which I was born and am expected to communicate in a legible manner.
The litany of voices I hear and read wants to repeat itself here through the funhouse mirror/brilliant cut crystal ball of a writer.
…the dance instructor I just met who tells me her whole life story in a few minutes — married, divorced, miscarriages, births, lack of silliness, not a girl, not interested in guys, Western Swing dance champion who prefers Balboa dance style, etc., like she has been through this interrogation by strangers a million times and learned to push people away quickly, or…what?
…on social media: the animal rescue posts — please rescue this dog/cat before it’s euthanised, pitbulls aren’t dangerous, found a cat with kittens in a back alley that need to be adopted, etc.; the gun owners who feel threatened by government regulations and must let us know their fears through LOUD STATEMENTS EVERY DAY; the people who claim they are loving devotees of their religion but they relentlessly post hateful comments about others (Christians against Obama, Buddhists against overcrowded cities, etc.).
So, in my mental confusion, I put a paper bowl filled with water, oatmeal and ground-up flax seed in the microwave oven, set the timer for 20:00 instead of 2:00 and, after taking a shower, I returned to find I had made dried oatmeal/flax seed cakes instead of a bowl of hot cereal.
Happiness!!!
The universe entertains me constantly, poking me in the side and saying, “See? Isn’t life beautiful? You didn’t burn oatmeal, you made yourself the handheld dried oatmeal cake you’ve always dreamed of eating on the commute to work for years, didn’t you?”
Despite the boring moments between eventful events, while setting up the next scenario to snag the snaggle-toothed snagosaurus, life is, indeed, beautiful.
Surprising, no?
treetrunkdings 