How to Survive the Black Hole

This past week I was blessed to be placed in charge of eleven first time campers ranging from the age of ten to the ancient age of twelve. Two boys, Jacob and Kenny, shared a tent across from the adults and next to our former scout, now 'adult', college student. Mom and Dad had put them there for a reason, and we hope it wasn't just to drive us crazy.

Kenny and Jacob had many things in common. They were friends first and foremost. They did everything together except change. They went on hikes, took the same classes, failed or passed swim tests and even bugled together.

While changing alone they were lost by themselves and may have been confused by the process as it took forever to accomplish the task. Often, when asked to change out of a swimsuit and into a scout uniform they would change into shorts and not the uniform shirt or into the uniform shirt and retain the swim trunks. Eager reminders by the adults or older scouts were greeted by eager responses and painfully slow endeavors. Despite a plethora of available empty tents to accomplish their changing Kenny and Jacob only changed in their own tent in sequence, each taking so long that the second forgot the task at hand and had to be rounded up for his turn. I am now prepared to deal with Alzheimer patients.

There was something else that Jacob and Kenny did not do together; clean. In fact, neither did this at all. Every morning their tent was neatened and straightened out - most often with the help of an exasperated older scout or three eager to get to breakfast. In neatened condition their tent would remain until shortly after lunch when without the slightest provocation the tent would explode in a frenzy of activity centering on a search for an ancient artifact needed to make their day complete. At least once I had to ask if there were survivors from the tent explosion.

I remember the search for the seven dollars by Kenny. At least five times Kenny was instructed to look in his foot locker and on and under his bed. Each time Kenny came back on the edge of tears, never questioning that it was stolen, but mourning the loss. We adults, across our narrow campsite, quietly discussed taking up a collection amongst ourselves while watching Kenny search anew through the piles but interestingly, not his foot locker. Upon another return to our tent we questioned Kenny and asked him why he wasn't checking the footlocker. "Because I don't remember putting it there" was the replied. In his fifth attempt he humored us and was quickly rewarded with a discovering of the seven dollars and shortly he and Jacob were off to the camp store leaving us with a view of the black hole now containing an empty foot locker.

Money wasn't the only item lost that week. Uniform shirts and parts disappeared with some regularity. At one point I assured Jacob that no one else wanted to wear his stinky shirt. Bathing suits were lost (to be found on the clothesline behind the tent) as well as Gimp (found throughout the campsite. Temporarily lost was a bugle, merit badge book and a leather work kit. Permanently lost were two neckerchief slides (replaced by a loaner and a slide made from duct tape).

Also temporarily lost was Kenny and Jacobs self confidence on succeeding nights.

Kenny's was lost after Mom and Dad came for a visit on Wednesday (along with the other parents). Kenny did well until it was bed time and then collapsed into the abyss of loneliness that often calls for young campers. Kenny hung around with the adults for an extended period well past the other campers sack time and listed to us tell and retell the corniest of jokes while seemingly ignoring him until the mere wisp of a smile appeared. He stayed up for a while longer and was assured that there are friendly adults still about before returning to his black hole.

Jacobs loss was far more severe and nasty. Having survived and cheered Kenny through his homesickness Jacob likely had already had weathered an assault of loneliness. However a case of insensitivity by his peers caused Jacobs confidence to crumble like a house of cards. Having to choose between two boys to be the sixth and final member of a card game the card sharks voted Jacob out publicly and another boy in. Such devastation laid Jacob bare and I was faced with despondent tears. Nothing seemed to cheer a now lonely Jacob out of his doldrums.

In an act of desperation I relied upon the black hole and told Jacob that I wanted to see the knife holder he completed in his leather work merit badge. Jacob moped over to his tent and began his search. In a frenzy I grabbed a tree lopper, cut and pruned a small tree, trimmed the resulting stick with my jackknife, cut and hole punched a piece of leather, created a handhold with the leather and sewed it to the stick with a piece of gimp I had found (presumably Kenny's) to create a serviceable walking stick. The whole stick creating operation took less than ten minutes and although done in Jacobs sight it was completely unobserved.

Jacob returned to me without his leather work or a memory of being asked to get it. I introduced him to the walking stick as an example of my leather craft. He thought it great, I offered to let him try it and even showed him how a walking stick was operated. Sadly, it was too short for me and as I had one already I was wondering if Jacob would like it. It was the one item that never did succumb to the black hole as it was never out of his sight for the remainder of the week.

Later, when feelings had calmed, I did talk to Jacob about what happened and discussed why he might be excluded from a card game by a group of older boys in favor of another older boy. The discussion was two fruitful and was completed while Jacob had a firm grip on his walking stick. A conversation was also held with the card player who, to their credit, had realized their faux pax almost immediately and spent the rest of the week including both Jacob and his stick in all activities.

On Friday evening the black hole was abandoned and the boys slept by the campfire. Ever concerned they were visited ever so often by the adults who walked unseen to the edge of the clearing to watch and listen quietly. On one of these trips I saw all was well and was leaving when I heard the walking stick being discussed. I turned in time to see Jacob holding the stick above himself and declaring, "Thank you Mr. P." Jacob doesn't know I heard him. He never meant me to.

Oh, and I do feel bad about cutting down a live tree.