Archive for November 4th, 2008

The head scoutmaster, Mr. C, spent a lot of time this morning making biscuits. I have never seen anyone make biscuits on a campout, so I am very interested in the cleverness that makes this possible. I am not asked to help with the cooking; since I am a guest.  

The biscuits are mixed very meticulously, with a pastry blender. Then they are baked in a box oven which is heated with coals. The box oven used to be a carton for carrying reams of paper, but it has been lined with tin foil and wall insulation to make it fireproof. Carefully placed air vents allow the oven to “draw” and a meat thermoses in the lid tells the cooks when the oven is ready.

This is very clever, I think, and the biscuits are first-rate. When he is complemented, Mr. C says his secret is White Lily flour. He cites the flour’s appearance in the movie “Driving Miss Daisy,” suggesting that the flour’s cinematic appearance is a case of product placement in a movie, but I happen to think it was local color. You can’t buy “White Lily” flour in grocery stores outside the South, and that’s the point. But you know, if you’ve never lived outside of the South, you might not realize that.

For breakfast we have the ubiquitous Boy Scout “taco-dillas” which is eggs with onion and sausage in a tortilla. The taco-dilla eggs are cooked well, for half an hour. I sigh and eat breakfast.  

When I tell the other adults about why Vincent is not with us, I worry they don’t believe me about the homework overload. And they do not laugh when I tell them he is besieged by girls. I think about this. Perhaps they never had this experience. The thought yanks me back to my own teenage years. I remember turning 15 and suddenly getting the attention I’d longed for all through grade school. My parents did not try to advise me with my new-found opportunities. They were completely enmeshed in their own adult struggles, which I didn’t understand because from the outside they appeared to have it together, and I didn’t believe people who were 40 could really have problems. I mean, they were already married, and had jobs, so what were they so worried about?

Thinking back to being 15, I want to admit I could have done a better job in some relationships with kids my own age and I wish I had. Unfortunately I never speak to any of those people I knew back then, except my parents.  And I think they understand. 

We’re getting pretty far away from boy scouting trips here, except for the fact that spiritual realizations about your own shortcomings may be one reason to travel — you get away from the daily routine and you begin to see yourself differently. But I don’t want to see myself this differently. I came out here to camp, not to get all metaphysically minded, right?