tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-114411829156791432024-03-04T23:26:30.694-05:00Memories of Fort Scott CampsTroubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.comBlogger89125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-26789467794144401042011-01-05T09:35:00.001-05:002011-01-05T09:35:17.354-05:00So much more to sayIt’s strange how memories work. We all spent thousands of hours at Fort Scott, as campers and counselors and administrators. And of those thousands of hours how vividly some memories come back and play through our minds like they happened just yesterday. <br />Here are some that come to me:<br />• Jerry Moore, John Lynch and Mikey (I am pretty sure it was these three) and the first ever Midget Junior Dance. Mayhem in the Playhouse<br /><br />• As a camper, walking along next to Steve Leonard, while he was carrying a razor sharp, double bladed axe. Steve was taking us to the Indian Village to teach us how to use knives and axes and hatchets for Nature Program<br /><br />• Craig Simmons announcing the “ meanest leanest roughest toughest most powerful club …In CAMP” Varsity<br /> <br />• Some of the arguments in voting for Camper of the Period<br /><br />• Scott Brauch playing the Chicken Record…over and over and over<br /><br />• Pat Fairbanks playing Copa Cabana …over and over and over<br /><br />• The abduction of Barrington rabbit<br /><br />• Sitting on a bench in the playhouse, as a first time camper, and hearing Carol Leonard telling everyone to “squishy wishy” together<br /><br />• Laying on my back on the scalding hot tennis courts waiting for Chris Slaughter to call “Warball”<br /><br />• Trying not to cry when George Clayton told me that I had been cut from Varsity Club tryouts<br /><br />• Watching Terry Fazenbaker’s dog Cinnamon chase a skunk through the playhouse at night<br /><br />The more I write the more I remember….<br /><br />Happy New Year allTroubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-87353586604511772642009-04-24T07:58:00.002-04:002009-04-24T08:02:10.660-04:00War NightOne of the pivotal events in a Senior Boy's life at Fort Scott was participation in War Night. A reader wrote to me and asked for a recap of the rules of the game. Since it took nearly a week to explain all of the various rules to the new players, I have condensed them down to a few paragraphs to give you the flavor of the game. I would love to hear from counselors, especially from before my time to share their versions of War Night<br /><br />War Night Rules<br /><br />The Senior Boys will be divided into two teams, Alpha and Bravo. Each member of the individual teams will be assigned a rank and point value. Ranks will start at Private, and graduate to General, with various military ranks such as Corporal and Captain used in between. Point values will range from 1 pt for a Private and 25 points for a General.<br /><br />The object of the game is to score as many points as possible for your team by capturing members of the other team, or objects of value held by the other team. Objects of value would include three flashlights and three buckets used to hold water balloons.<br /><br />Game Play<br />Teams Alpha and Bravo are each assigned a campsite. Historically the campsites are Indian Village and Grubers. There have been times in the past when the number of Senior Boys is so large that additionally campsites have been used. Gilligan’s Island, Trading Post, and Enright’s are among the additional campsites used. <br /><br />Both teams are required to maintain a campfire at their campsites. The game is over if either campfire is allowed to burn out.<br /><br />Both teams are also required to provide a campfire and a clear site for the counselors that are stationed at the Main campfire circle.<br /><br />Once the main campfire is lit, teams are dispersed to their respective campsites to light their fires. Once their sites are inspected by the counselors, a signal is given, and the game begins.<br /><br /><br />The means to capture an opponent are as follows:<br />• Breaking a water balloon on an opponent<br />• Grabbing an opponent and saying the capture phrase. The capture phrase will be explained below. The attacker must maintain contact with his target for the entire time he is speaking the phrase<br /><br />Once an opponent is captured the capturing player must lead the captive to the Main campfire circle. The capturing player must say “Detriot Mo” every five steps while walking to the Main Campfire Circle. The “Detriot Mo” phrase removes both the capturing player, and the captive from the game and makes them ineligible to capture others, to be captured. If the capturing player fails to say “Detroit Mo” every five steps, the captive player may either break free and attempt to escape, or may try to capture his captor.<br /><br />When the Capturing player arrives at the Main Campfire circle, they will remain standing at the First Line, which all players will have been shown during the week prior to War Night. Both players will wait there until called forward to the Second Line. <br /><br />When the players arrive at the second line a Counselor will ask “which team captures which team?” The capturing player would respond “Alpha captures Bravo, Sir”, or vice versa as appropriate. The Counselor then would ask the name and rank of the capturing player, and then of the captured player. Once the names and ranks were recorded, the captured player is instructed to sit in a cool down area, the capturing player is released to return to his campsite. The captured player will be released to return to his campsite after a period determined by the counselors.<br /><br />Both players must repeat Alaskan Mo every five steps as they return to their campsites. Neither player is allowed to return to the game until they have passed between two trees designated by the Counselors. This leaves returning players particularly vulnerable to capture if the opposing team controls their campsite.<br /><br />Items of Value<br />Both teams are issued a number of flashlights and buckets, usually not more than three of each. These items are assigned a point value equal to a mid level player. If these items are captured by the opposing team, their values are added to the that teams total points.<br /><br />Disputes<br />In the case of a disputed capture, any involved player can call a Freeze Mo. All players involved will then travel to the main campfire circle under Freeze Mo and have their dispute resolved. All counselors present at the main campfire circle will listen to the account of the dispute and a decision will be rendered by a vote among the counselors. The player that initiates the capture frequently receives the favorable result.<br /><br />End Game<br />The Game will continue as long as there is activity or until winning is clearly out of reach for the losing team. Counselors will be sent to each campsite to announce that the game is over, and each team will be instructed to assemble in the main campfire circle. Roll call is made in the main campfire circle, and when all players are accounted for, they are dismissed back to their cabins.<br /><br />The score is read the next morning at breakfast.<br /><br />Game Phrases<br />Capture Phrase:<br />• Italian Mo Ravish Spaghetti Tree Detroit Mo<br /><br />Travel to Main Campfire Phrase<br />• Detroit Mo. This phrase must me spoken every five steps<br /><br />Return to Base Camp Phrase<br />• Alaskan Mo<br /><br />Travel to Main Campfire to resolve a dispute<br />• Freeze Mo<br /><br />Alert Counselors of an injury<br />• Red Cross Mo<br /><br />Counselor Travel Phrase<br />• Counselor Mo<br />•Troubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-16424069315922431212009-04-08T13:30:00.001-04:002009-04-08T13:30:51.021-04:00Rewinding 31 yearsApril, 1978<br /><br />31 years ago was the first time I set foot on the Fort Scott property. At that time, the Archdiocese would run ads in the Sunday bulletins at church for the coming summer at Fort Scott. My parents asked me if I wanted to go check it out, and so we packed ourselves into the car and drove out to the open house. <br /><br />I wish I could remember who gave us the tour of the camp. It might have been Ed Shannon, or maybe Mark Maxwell. I just don’t remember. What I do remember is how big camp seemed. It was open, and green and quiet. We walked through the Boys Camp, and peered into the windows of the cabins. We looked into the 8-1/2 and the playhouse. The tour pretty much ended on the porch of one of the girls cabins that had been opened for the day.<br /><br />We walked in, and I smelled that cabin smell of forest, and slightly damp lumber. I looked around and saw the bunks and wondered how so many people could live in such a small place. I am sure that I looked at all of the names written on the walls and wondered about the people that had put their names there. At 11 years old, I am sure that I had 11 year old concerns like how would we wake up in the morning, how would we know when to be where, what about this and what if that….<br /><br />I remember being excited, and apprehensive. I had never been to any kind of camp, although we had a summer cottage in Indiana. I had no idea that by taking that tour on that cool pre spring Sunday, how my life would be changed. <br /><br />What I find most interesting in this memory is that I underestimated Fort Scott in just about every way possible. <br /><br />I think that I need to get busy writing again, because it seems that the memories are fading a bit faster than I thought.<br /><br />Happy Easter to all<br /><br />BobTroubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-13667758510526035022008-06-09T21:39:00.000-04:002008-06-09T21:40:25.941-04:00Horses I have known<p class="MsoNormal">I was telling a friend of mine, who loves horses, about some of the horses that I got to know while I was at camp.<span style=""> </span>The years all kind of run together now, but there are some that stand out in my memory like old friends, and others that were just aquaintences.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">See if you remember some of these….</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Cadence- became a permanent fixture at camp when he lost an eye in a fight.<span style=""> </span>Really sweet tempered camper horse.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Stripe- A gray horse, not very tall, but very very fast.<span style=""> </span>Mike Strong swore that this horse had “overdrive”.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">King- Probably the tallest horse I can remember having at camp. He had a very smooth gait, but the campers never got to ride him because he was so hard to mount.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Mandu- Dark brown with a roached mane. Very spirited horse.<span style=""> </span>I liked him a lot. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Lady- the perfect stable horse.<span style=""> </span>She was a palomino with a very long mane and tail. The youngest girls would spend hours brushing and combing her and braiding her mane.<span style=""> </span>She was probably the best groomed horse ever at Camp</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Blackie- the only Tennessee Walker that I ever rode.<span style=""> </span>He had such a smooth gait at a trot, he was like riding an overstuffed chair.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Riding was probably the must demanding department at camp, but I loved almost every minute of it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Thanks for hanging in there with me everyone.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Peace</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Troubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-1674469785741807362008-04-08T15:57:00.002-04:002008-04-08T16:19:36.483-04:00The Ultimate SalesmanMost of you who were campers or counselors during the mid 80's will remember Jerry Moore. How could you forget his easy smile or gentle nature? He spent most of his time in Sports and Recreation, and as even an AD. I think his second greatest accomplishment was the creation of Midget World- putting 32 six through nine year old boys in Senior 2 and living there for two weeks probably qualifies him for sainthood. But I bet that most of you have forgetten his greatest accomplishment was that of a salesman.<br /><br />Jerry came up with an idea for an early evening program called Ecco Ball. He would start at the Sunday Evening campfire promoting the greatest game in Fort Scott history. Campers that knew Jerry knew that this had to be something relating to a game with a ball, hence the name. Every evening at dinner, and every time he saw the kids at program, Jerry would talk about Ecco Ball. The kids even started chanting Ecco ball because they just could not wait until Thursday evening to play this wonderful game they knew nothing about.<br /><br />Finally the big day came and the kids acted like it was Christmas morning. They lined up at the flagpole after dinner, nearly delerious with excitement. <br /><br />The look on their faces was absolutely priceless when Jerry explained that the Ecco Ball was a plastic bag that they would fill with litter from around the camp. The bag that was filled the most would be the official winner and the winning team would get their choice of fruit......<br /><br />It only worked once, but it was a lot of fun while it lasted. I think Jerry went into missionary work for a while, but he would have made a great salesman.<br /><br />Ecco Ball Forever!!!!!!Troubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-81202767203876132872008-04-08T15:55:00.002-04:002008-04-08T15:57:12.803-04:00He's BaaaaaaaccccckkkkkkkkSo I finally have my life back for a while. I hope some of you are still out there to share these random memories of mine. I have a lot of new stories that I can't wait to give to you. So here goes.....Troubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-9938604943528540402008-02-28T12:33:00.000-05:002008-02-28T12:34:11.902-05:0010 things about Canoe TripsTen things I remember about canoe trips<br /><br />1. No matter how many times I went down the Whitewater river, I always noticed something new<br /><br />2. I thought the songs the girls sang on the bus were annoying. I would give a lot to hear them again now<br /><br />3. Bologna and cheese on slightly stale damp bread never tasted so good<br /><br />4. I always liked taking the lead canoe ( rank has its privileges ). I appreciated the peace of the river, and the company and conversations were wonderful<br /><br />5. I never did get invited to a moonlight float…<br /><br />6. I never could get the hang of putting a canoe on my shoulders to carry them up the hill<br /><br />7. I will never forget the day that Keith Kinzler and I took Kayaks instead of canoes. We could make it all the way from the head of the pack to the rear of the pack in no time at all. Racing was fun, and so was teasing the kids<br /><br />8. There was a counselor canoe trip the year that Jessica Vesper was a CIT. She hurt her hand somehow and had to have stitches. Kind of put a damper on things. I think it was that same year that she got a bug in her ear ( I am not kidding) and I had to take her to the hospital in the middle of the night to get it out. Not a good year for Jess<br /><br />9. Somehow senior girls who were afraid of spiders and would spend hours in the shower dressing for a senior dance had no problems throwing mud<br /><br />10. Years afterward when we took the same canoe trip with a group of friends, it just was not the same. It didn’t even seem like the same river.Troubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-32638765443803261762008-02-14T09:35:00.000-05:002008-02-14T09:36:44.975-05:00Wishful thinkingIt was 10 degrees this morning when I woke up. <br /><br />There was ice on the windshield of my truck and the windows were frozen shut.<br /><br />I was caught by a train and cut off by a rude driver on my way into work.<br /><br />I received phone calls from three employees telling me that they were not coming in to work today. After all these years, they still have not learned to lie convincingly.<br /><br />It was better when I would wake up in the morning and look out my cabin door and see the fog over the stable field and the dew glistening on the grass<br /><br />It was better when I was tired from being up late watching the stars from cabin walk and consoling a homesick camper, not from being up working on a project that might or might not actually get built<br /><br />It was better when my breakfast was a bowl of Apple Jacks, a cold pop tart and some ice cold milk, rather than a Egg Mc something and a Coke that I gobble down on the way to a meeting in the morning.<br /><br />Schedules were not nearly so important. If breakfast was ten minutes or twenty minutes late, there were no cell phones buzzing on my hip with someone on the other end demanding to know what my ETA was.<br /><br />Fort Scott was not a job to me. It was a summer long vacation. I have many blessings in my life. I have a wonderful family. I get to make music most nights of the week. I have a home, a career, and good health. <br /><br />I still miss Fort ScottTroubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-29215223554362571972007-12-29T15:16:00.001-05:002008-02-06T13:58:30.072-05:00Lastgen PartyAlan McConnell hosted a wonderful party recently for Genlasters ( the last generation of staff members) to work at Fort Scott. I saw a lot of familiar faces and realized once again how blessed I am that they have been a part of my life.<br /><br />On a personal side, many of you commented that you had enjoyed the Fort Scott Blog, and were looking forward to more posts in the future. I must admit that I was truly touched by all of your kind comments, and will try to be a more regular poster in the future. All of us have real life commitments, and I have let mine get in the way of my writing.<br /><br />So on with the post. First of all, I want to start by wishing all of those who read here a Merry Christmas, albeit belated, and a Happy New Year. I hope that God will continue to bless all of us in 2008.<br /><br />As I drove home, I was thinking about how I would describe some of the people that I talked to last night to someone that had never met them before. I started making a thumbnail sketch sort of, of the people that were at the party, and tried to describe them in a sentence or two. These are the ones I have come up with so far, in no particular order….<br /><br />Biz M: The best hugger I have ever met. Her joy and zest for life radiates from her and fills whatever room she is in. You can’t help but feel good about yourself when you have spent time around her.<br /><br />Ted L: One of the most “genuine” people I have had the pleasure of knowing. He is a hardworking man who will look you in the eye and tell you what is on his mind. I rarely see him without a smile on his face, and his love of Fort Scott is immense.<br /><br />Tom B: Incredible story teller, very animated. His mirth and excitement are infectious. There is a reason that he was an icon at Fort Scott. He is another person that loves life and makes you glad you were around him.<br /><br />MABS: A person with many facets. One moment she will be telling you stories about partying at Flick’s the next she will be engaged in something far more intellectual. Many times when I talked with her in the past, I got the impression that she knew more than she was telling. Like me, MABS feels like the work at Fort Scott wasn’t finished when the camp was closed.<br /><br />More to come as I find the right words...<br /><br />BobTroubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-16483316408015976532007-11-17T21:30:00.000-05:002007-11-17T21:49:39.698-05:00Thanksgiving at Fort Scotta reader sent me a note encouraging me to imagine what Halloween at Fort Scott would have looked like, but since I have been limited in my blogging time as of late, I missed that opportunity, so we will have to wait until next year for that one. But it got me to thinking of what Thanksgiving at Fort Scott would look like. So here goes....<br /><br />Naturally, there would have to be at least a little bit of snow on the ground. This is a Currier and Ives kind of scene in my mind. The dinner would be laid out at the Boys Mess Hall. Luminaires would be placed all the way from the gatehouse to the circle lot behind the Boys Messhall. A large fire would be burning merrily on the hill overlooking the Boys pool.<br /><br />Preparation would have started on the food early in the day. Tables would line the walls loaded with covered dishes of every imaginable type, and pies, cakes and cookies enough to feed an army. There would be table cloths on all of the tables and centerpieces with candles on each one. The air in the mess hall would be fragrant with the smell of turkey and dressing cooking. <br />The Leonard boys would be outside cooking deep fried turkey. The doors would be swinging open and shut constantly with our children running in and out, making new friends and playing tag in the darkness.<br /><br />At 6:00 or so, we would all gather around these tables surrounded by our friends and family and quietly join hands. John Farmer would lead us in a prayer to thank God for all of our blessings and we would sit down to a meal that we would not soon forget. Afterwards Sue Carfagna or Tim Clossen, or someone else would get out a guitar and we would sing until the night got very late.<br /><br />As I write this little story, it occurs to me that a blessing that we all might overlook is that we can imagine this very scene, and remember friends that we would like to include in it. <br /><br />I just wonder now, why did this never happen for real?<br /><br />Peace and Happy Thanksgiving everyone<br /><br />BobTroubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-17853293765212002262007-11-08T21:33:00.000-05:002007-11-08T21:50:25.535-05:0010 Things..CIT ShackTen things I remember about the CIT shack are....<br /><br />1. The porch was the second best porch in the whole boys camp. You could lean back in a chair and rest against the wall, with your feet up on the rail<br /><br />2. The men from the riding staff loved to use our bathroom<br /><br />3. The speakers from the boys lodge seemed to be pointed directly at my door.<br /><br />4. Bobby, one of the other CITs during my stay could throw a lawn chair over the roof<br /><br />5. The lights from cars coming into the parking area at night would always shine right through my door<br /><br />6. Tom Beiting had a really cool bachelor pad on his end. We didnt go in there, and as a matter of fact, I am not sure that he was ever there very much.<br /><br />7. Since it was so far away from the other cabins, we were spared the raid that year<br /><br />8. It was a really cool cabin, because it was shaded even on the hotest days. However you had to walk really far to get a drink<br /><br />9. There was a brand new riding trail they were breaking behind the cabin that led to the tennis courts<br /><br />10. You could hear my stereo all the way to the mess hall. The kitchen guys told me this.<br /><br /><br />BobTroubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-19116831529805979172007-10-21T19:38:00.000-04:002007-10-22T15:18:28.007-04:0010 Things: Cabin AlderJust a side note, sorry I haven't posted much lately things have been incredibly busy. Life to get back to normal and in a couple of weeks.<br />In the meantime, here are some things I remember about Cabin Alder.<br /><br /><ol><li>The door spring was weak, so the wind would blow the door open and shut it night.</li><li>The cabin was at the edge of a hill, so it was up on blocks to keep it level. I would always have to look under there to make sure campers weren't hiding.</li><li>Again was also under the trees, so it night, it was really nice when the wind was gently blowing, you could hear the wind blowing through the leaves.</li><li>Because of the cabin's placement the speakers on top of the Lodge weren't pointed at it. So was quieter than the rest of the cabins on the Hill.</li><li>Sometimes I would have to say something to the counselors living in the Boy's Shack, because when they get rowdy you can hear everything that was said.</li><li>Fred Hornback was assigned to Cabin Number Two or Buckeye, whatever you'd like to call it for several sessions.</li><li>It always seemed like the walk to the Lodge or the pool or to the Playhouse was shorter from Cabin Alder</li><li>The walk to the 8 1/2 was naturally longer.</li><li>I think Cabin Alder was my favorite cabin on the Hill.</li><li>I don't think we had a clothesline on the back of cabin alder.</li></ol><ol>See you soon, </ol><ol>Bob<span></span><span></span></ol>Troubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-74546735042136547822007-10-14T11:38:00.000-04:002007-10-14T11:52:40.312-04:00Ten Things....I got this idea from other Blogs and decided to fit it to this one and make it a series<br /><br />10 Things I remember about....<br /><br />The Play House<br />1. it was the first Fort Scott building I ever remember being in. My first incoming Sunday as a camper, they processed all of the new campers there, took temps and so forth. I remember it like it was yesterday, Carol Leonard telling everone to "squishy wishy" together.<br /><br />2. playing dodgeball or floor hockey in there was always so much faster that it was in my school gyms because it was smaller and the floors were slick<br /><br />3. when they installed the new lights in there, it would always take them forever to come on<br /><br />4. I was in there one night shooting basketball and Allen Fazenbaker's dog Cinnamon, chased a skunk in there. <br /><br />5. There was that one basketball hoop that was set lower than the others. It was fun seeing the kids jam a basketball in there<br /><br />6. I saw the movie Star Wars there for the first time. <br /><br />7. I suprised more than one couple that had chosen the play house as a place to spend some quiet time. I never did it on purpose, I was usualy as embarrased as they were<br /><br />8. I remember a troop of tumblers and acrobats that camp brought in, and they had set up in the playhouse. One of the men on his tumbling runs was jumping on a mini tramp. I was sure he was going to hit the ceiling<br /><br />9. We used it for midget junior dances. I think the counselors had as much fun as the campers<br /><br />10. There was gravel underneath the bleachers.<br /><br />BobTroubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-21972496851616054202007-10-11T22:59:00.000-04:002007-10-11T23:07:41.145-04:00Sleeping arrangementsSo who decided which bunks were the cool ones to sleep in and which werent? When I was a counselor, I always slept in the bunk that was on the bottom and to the right of the door when you went in. It seems like most of the counselors chose this same arrangement. Was this because it got the best breeze? Or was it easier to sneak in after bed check without waking your kids? <br /><br />It seemed like there were prefered spots in the cabins for the campers as well. You didn't have as many choices when you were in a cabin on the hill, but there were definitely prefered bunks in Senior 1. My first year in Senior 1, the bunks of choice were the farthest from the doors, on the bottom. I was stuck in the bed right next to the door. Although I got the best breeze at night, I also nearly drowned during the raid that period. After that, I chose the bunk on the counselor end in the corner, on the bottom. <br /><br />The only thing that was better was when I was actually a counselor in Sr. 1 and got the counselor corner. I even brought my stereo and had a dresser. That was really living the good life.<br /><br />BobTroubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-1563774954555627072007-10-05T15:43:00.000-04:002007-10-05T15:46:06.136-04:00A letter from Matt, October 4, 2007<span><br />Hey Bob, I still remember my first experience at Fort Scott, and it wasn’t even with my own cabinmates.<br /><br /> I think it was either my first or second day that 1st 2-week session in the summer of 1982 (I believe the big activity that session was the Olympics). I seem to remember being in a small group of campers headed up by Tom Fairbanks and we headed into the woods. It had rained the past couple of days, so the timing was perfect for the activity. We finally reached our destination: the Mud Slide. I must have gone down the Slide at least a dozen times, as I was covered from head to toe with all sorts of nature: mud, tree bark, and other things I couldn’t recognize.<br /><br />I could hardly recognize anyone in the group, we were so covered. Tom let us know it was time to head back, as it was about an hour or so until supper at the Mess Hall. I headed straight for the 8 ½ and its showers. Soap and shampoo were as useless as trying to clean up an oil spill with paper towels. After 30 minutes or so in the shower, I still had nature in my hair. My clothes were then marked as broken in by the Fort Scott experience. I think it was like 4-5 days later that I finally had every bit of the mud and stuff out of my hair and off of me.<br /><br />I do remember we had our group picture taken when we got back to camp, but I never did get a copy of it; wish I had.<br /><br />I remember my first counselor that session, Brian Spears. That session was very memorable, up to the final nights, as I took down many camp awards, including the revered “Rec Tan Award,” and our cabin took first place among the Midget cabins for cabin clean up. I was glad I could make it to that awards ceremony, as I had become sick the night before. Brian took our cabin to the front field, where we joined up with some others for roasting marshmallows in the campfire. I still cannot get over what I did there with my marshmallow; I put it over the fire, allowed it to ignite, and watched it burn and expand to a large black charred bubble on my stick. I still cannot believe I ate it---I think that was what had made me sick.<br /><br />All of my memories of Fort Scott, from the mudslide to being guest emcee at the Variety Show in the summer of 1988, to the numerous all-camp games of North vs South capture the flag (er...popsicle sticks), to all the other great times I had, will remain in my heart til I am long gone from this earth.<br /><br />Matt<br /> </span>Troubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-10963021354279095602007-10-01T21:47:00.000-04:002007-10-04T12:09:49.234-04:00More than the sum of our partsThough I may be stating the obvious, the camp staff was always greater than the sum of its parts. As a camper, your view of the staff was myopic at best. You knew your counsellor, and the counsellor in your buddy cabin. You knew the counsellors that were in charge of the departments, and if you were lucky you could remember their names after a day or two.<br /><br />As I grew older, I became more aware of the staff, and the administration, but it really did not become clear to me what a wonderful collection of people it took to make Fort Scott run, until I became a staff member. I really cannot count being a CIT. Although it was a job, and we did have assignments, it was still pretty much like being a camper.<br /><br />As I spent more time on the staff, I also realized that certain persons within the staff shaped who we were, and gave the staff its own personality. I am talking about people like Tom Beiting, well really, the whole Beiting family. And there was Steve Sincheck, and of course Cathy. Who could forget the trio of Dale Siegal, Mike Strong and Bob Hunnenfeld (spelling?). Those three spent many afternoons teaching me lessons in humilty on the volleyball court. There are dozens of others, but the person that I wanted to talk about today was John Farmer.<br /><br />I will come right out and say that I admired John Farmer a great deal. He was one of those people that never seemed seemed to get rattled or flustered, and we all know that there were plenty of things that could do that for you at camp. John always seemed to have a kind word for any kid, and his smile would cheer you up, even on a pretty lousy day. He was just an all around nice guy.<br /><br />Two things that really stick out in my mind about John but were very telling. I think it was during staff orientation, and we had broken up into small groups and were filling out surveys. We were asked questions about our favorite place to go on vacation, favorite food, etc. Then we were asked about our favorite book. I only remember one answer, and it was John's. He said his was the Bible. I think that gave real insight into what made John what he was.<br /><br />The second incident was on cabin walk. As I recall, and as was usual, the first night there was always one really rowdy cabin. The common response among the less experienced counsellors was to kick the door in and try to intimidate a some order into the campers. And we had tried that a couple of times. On the third time, John told us to just stay put and he walked down and talked to the kids. It worked. He didnt raise his voice, didnt kick the door, he was just John.<br /><br />I think we all could take a lesson from that, and be a little kinder to each other.<br /><br />BobTroubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-27742266627588708212007-09-30T21:40:00.000-04:002007-09-30T22:05:38.810-04:00Sunday'sSunday's were a special day at camp for me, both as a camper and a staff member. As a camper, we always got the nice breakfast, and there was Mass in the morning. As a Senior it was really cool to get to sit next to your girlfriend and spend the day, without the supervision of a normal camp schedule. As a young teenager, that was a big deal.<br /><br />As I think back, I really enjoyed the Masses as well. They always had the Session theme incorporated into them, which made them special. But also, you were celebrating Mass in the midst of some of your best friends, out in the middle of God's creation. I remember that the music was always new to me ( that was a big deal), I think Earthen Vessels had just been released, and it felt like a real music ministry was happening.<br /><br />As a staff member, especially as AD, Sunday was also kind of a check to see how well I had done my job. Cathy U, my counterpart, and I were responsible for the cabin assignments. It seems as the years went by it became more and more important to honor the bunking requests that parents would send in with their camping applications. It got to be a matter of life and death for Hunter to bunk with Justin and Christopher. More than once I was confronted by an indignant parent who could not understand why a midget camper could not be in Junior cabin just because they had requested it. It was worse when Juniors requested placement into Senior Cabins. All in all though, we rarely had a complaint that we could not resolve somehow. The sad part was, by the time we had gotten really good at it , the summer was over. Camp closed the next summer, so we never got a chance to improve our skills further.<br /><br />I always liked getting to greet each camper as they came to check in also. It got me excited for the new session.<br /><br />BobTroubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-64944014078570426802007-09-27T22:11:00.000-04:002007-09-27T22:21:00.890-04:00The pause that refreshesIts been hot here lately, with temps at record highs, above 90. It reminded me of how much I liked that water fountain that was in between the Boys lodge and the AD shack. I always thought it had the best water in camp. There were other places to get a drink, but for some reason I loved that one. Then one year maintenance decided to turn it off. I never knew why, but I guess it was just beyond repair.<br /><br />I remember the silly games that the boys used to play with it, plugging the little hole so it would fill up, and sometime playing in the mud and gravel from the overflow.<br /><br />Getting a drink in the 8-1/2 was sometimes and adventure, if the place hadnt been cleaned properly, but the best part was that you could stick your head underneath the faucet and really get cooled down.<br /><br />About the best place to get cooled down, besides the pools, was under the watertower when it overflowed. That didnt happen very often, but it was a real treat when it did.<br /><br />Thats all I have for todayTroubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-67531787885193875732007-09-23T16:46:00.001-04:002007-09-23T16:58:39.328-04:00RickyMy first year as a camper we were in Cabin 15, with George Clayton as a counsellor, and Steve Leonard in 16 as a buddy counsellor. The one kid that I remember clearly was Ricky. Strangely enough, I even remember his last name, after 30 years.<br /><br />Ricky was fanatical about having his bunk clean, and being on time to everything. He always had to be first in line, and would complain bitterly if he felt he was being taken advantage of in any way. <br /><br />Of course this got old quickly, and Ricky got to be the butt of many jokes and harmless abuses. <br /><br />I remember one rest period it was raining, and we were stuck in the cabin. We were teasing the way 11 year olds would tease, and Ricky was becoming more and more agitated. The funny part was that the madder he got, the more he cleaned. He would even close the windows because of the water that would puddle on the tilting windows of the cabin. Eventually the rain stopped and we were able to go out before there was any blood shed.<br /><br />I mention Ricky because I teach a boy just like him now. <br /><br />His parents medicate the hell out of him.<br /><br />I wonder what Ricky would be like today, and I wonder how my student would have done at Camp.<br />BobTroubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-84360640543060656962007-09-20T14:54:00.001-04:002007-09-20T14:55:09.920-04:00If you want to be heardPlease send me via the G mail account, anything that you would like to say to Mr. Meyer, provided that it is respectful.<br /><br />BobTroubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-34473253077887157422007-09-20T09:39:00.000-04:002007-09-20T09:41:22.013-04:00Open LetterSeptember 20, 2007<br />Douglas Meyer<br />C/o Fort Scott Development Corp. LLC<br /><br />Dear Douglas Meyer,<br />I am writing to you today in regards to the Fort Scott Development project, of which I have received a flyer and have also heard the radio advertisements.<br /><br />I have followed the development of this property with a great deal of sadness over the years, as I am a former camper and Staff member of Fort Scott Camps. I had hoped that Fort Scott Camp would be a legacy that would be passed on to my children and grand children. Needless to say, that is no longer possible.<br /><br />Fort Scott Camp was a very special place for me and many of my friends. It was a place where children could still be children, safe and isolated away from the cares in the world. For many children who came from less than privileged lifestyles, it was a brief break from what would otherwise be a very bleak circumstance.<br /><br />Fort Scott was also a wildlife refuge and home to many plants and animals that cannot be found anywhere else in the Tri State area.<br /><br />To many of us, Fort Scott was sacred ground. The sale of this property and use of it for anything other than a summer camp to me is tragedy.<br /><br />I have learned through my correspondence with other Fort Scott Alums that the mailing list that was maintained by another Fort Scott Alum was used by you or marketing personnel working on your behalf to solicit sales of homes in your development. I find this disgusting and liken it to attorneys using the list of persons killed in an airline crash to find new clients.<br /><br />I also have learned that you are using the names of Fort Scott icons, such as the Fort Scott Bugle, to name your streets and landmarks. I am respectfully requesting that you stop this immediately.<br /><br />It is painful enough to drive down State Route 128 and see the signs for Fort Scott, knowing that instead of a magnificent camp that impacted the lives of thousands of people, it is now a collection of four bedroom houses on cul de sacs.<br /><br />Surely there are other names that could be given to the streets of your development that would entice people to buy there. Must you continue to re open the wound of losing camp by stealing the names of things that were precious to us and using them in ways they were never intended?<br /><br />I can assure you, that if your marketing department thinks that by naming the streets of a subdivision that is built on holy ground, after the icons that made it holy, that they will somehow entice Fort Scott Family members to purchase these properties, they are sadly mistaken.<br /><br />I will be placing this letter on my website <a href="http://fortscottmemories.blogspot.com/">http://fortscottmemories.blogspot.com/</a>. If you care to respond to this letter, I will place your response in the website as well, verbatim and unedited.<br /><br />I am attaching letters that I have received from my friends and readers regarding this issue so that you can see that I am not the only person who finds your choice of street names profoundly offending and hurtful.<br /><br />I realize that there is no stopping the development now. I am merely asking on my own behalf, and on behalf of the other Fort Scott family members that you find other names for your streets.<br /><br /><br />Regards,Robert J. SaurberTroubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-60050916605950474802007-09-19T16:08:00.000-04:002007-09-19T16:09:16.090-04:00Small WorldI work in the construction business, and I meet lots of people. My Outlook contact list has more than 1200 entries. On one project I was calling for bids for structural steel, and a man came in to look at the drawings. <br /><br />He worked for a while, and then gave me his business card. I noticed his last name was Hornback. I remembered a Fred Hornback from my early staff member days at camp, maybe first year councilor and CIT. Fred had introduced me to British rock and roll, and loved the band called the Kinks.<br /><br />We were good friends. He even drove a couple of times when we went to movies, or double dates. He had a red (I think) Volkswagen Bug. That was a fun car to go running around in.<br /><br />So I asked Mr. Hornback if he was related to Fred. <br /><br />Mr. Hornback got the funniest look on his face, and asked how I knew Fred. I told him about Fort Scott and the Bug, and how we had been friends. <br /><br />Mr. Hornback listened quietly and then told me that Fred had been killed in a car accident some years ago. <br /><br />He has never come back to quote any other work for us.<br /><br />My world got a little grayer that day.<br /><br />BobTroubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-90427673394366204442007-09-18T10:15:00.000-04:002007-09-18T10:39:13.707-04:00Letter to Beth- Sept. 18,Dear Beth,<br />I have purposely stayed away from the "whys" regarding why Camp really was closed. I don't think we will ever know for sure, but I will go to my grave believing the following:<br /><br />1. The air, soil, and water at Fort Scott Camp were clean<br />2. The insurance company "requirement" of a disclaimer in our brochure was suggested, not mandatory.<br />3. The low <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">pre-</span>registration numbers that were blamed for Fort Scott's closing were either deliberately <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">mis-</span>stated, or else could have been corrected with a minimal PR effort.<br />4. Fort Scott was an asset to be sold in exchange for cash to pay for settlements to children abused by priests.<br /><br />As I have grown older, I have become deeply distrustful of lawyers, insurance agents, and the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Archdiocese</span> of Cincinnati. In my heart I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">believe</span> that this all was carefully orchestrated among the three parties in order to deal with the scandal that they knew was coming. <br /><br />I also find it revolting that someone would use names of Fort Scott icons to try and sell houses built on <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">desecrated</span> ground, and I intend to write to them and tell them so.<br /><br />BobTroubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-55885206882682553232007-09-18T10:10:00.000-04:002007-09-18T10:14:47.540-04:00A letter from Beth- Sept 18, 2007Hi Bob...<br /><br />I saw it.<br />I didn’t want to see it.<br />I didn’t know I was going to see it when my husband told me he was taking me and the kids over to an “Open House,” where some of his builders would be – they would have hot air balloon rides, face painting, burgers and hot dogs, ice cream...fun for all. (my husband’s company does theatre rooms and security systems, and he wanted me to meet some of the folks about whom he speaks.)<br />I couldn’t believe it when we pulled in.<br />I know my husband didn’t give it a second thought – he knows my past from FSC, and said afterwards he didn’t realize how profoundly I would be affected by being there.<br />I stood outside the beautiful model homes, walked by myself past the Ben & Jerry’s cart, and took myself to the top of the dirt mound. I figured out exactly where I was by the sun in the 3:00 sky...and as I revolved, I saw the old rickety barn with “Fort Scott” still painted on its side. And then, exactly what I feared would happen, happened. I bust into absolutely uncontrollable tears... and could NOT stop (in fact, I was still crying on the drive home...)<br />Even the names of some of the streets – Bugle Way – made me weep. Most of the area is unrecognizable...although I did stand on what I’m sure was the “Girls Lodge” hill.<br />I will not go on and on about it. It is what it is. What angers me is that, like most things, it all comes down to the “almighty” dollar.<br /><br />But *no one* can take away our memories...Troubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11441182915679143.post-74082652077426482432007-09-16T10:54:00.000-04:002008-12-09T22:52:46.370-05:00This hurts me at least as much as it hurts youMy friend Bruce sent me these pictures in response to my post from last weekend.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirlaEo7vTrE4N0ii0TcirSPjL4qhcCrFijthZh8Gb4vObSJTliCqT6rIDDlNX05ugnJdqAlVfkSCPhZA4tQBRY-R5rl5A0QXLJx136B8KQvvFiV4SeztrAFY80_lN8UFET0iCKDSrKag/s1600-h/Fort+Scott+Build+6.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110816651886178642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirlaEo7vTrE4N0ii0TcirSPjL4qhcCrFijthZh8Gb4vObSJTliCqT6rIDDlNX05ugnJdqAlVfkSCPhZA4tQBRY-R5rl5A0QXLJx136B8KQvvFiV4SeztrAFY80_lN8UFET0iCKDSrKag/s400/Fort+Scott+Build+6.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbzDvoIBrpJlXYdOQXfVATczl5iBjXTtxvrH5vGi-TX-1MPjCxPUhuEq9cAemvdoMvD4XdyhQRFPX4-pWAG3Oi1SQ52nyr-qHDGCg1H2z0FSaTGX0aomPzxUNNenqBJu79HKqB8nLBEQ/s1600-h/Fort+Scott+Build+1.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110816471497552130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbzDvoIBrpJlXYdOQXfVATczl5iBjXTtxvrH5vGi-TX-1MPjCxPUhuEq9cAemvdoMvD4XdyhQRFPX4-pWAG3Oi1SQ52nyr-qHDGCg1H2z0FSaTGX0aomPzxUNNenqBJu79HKqB8nLBEQ/s400/Fort+Scott+Build+1.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKCEJyrRTgHdWolFsXGuuKmh4OGQg7otr1KqjtKmjdm8VrGrImaE8QtudghEun21d75tgiLGPVahiOdSBi2ZZQC02OOLdm9JoSrDRKZTxitmH3CMdTs9bPf_LgPqtsKJH6RmpuXQxvfA/s1600-h/Fort+Scott+Build+2.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110816475792519442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKCEJyrRTgHdWolFsXGuuKmh4OGQg7otr1KqjtKmjdm8VrGrImaE8QtudghEun21d75tgiLGPVahiOdSBi2ZZQC02OOLdm9JoSrDRKZTxitmH3CMdTs9bPf_LgPqtsKJH6RmpuXQxvfA/s400/Fort+Scott+Build+2.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBJSM7AOSLkBVy-xO-MLSDIqgfTt-W-yqZJecRa4Ne1bxMLLRsvCwKPQ-aCKjTtEP9oAuxKZyUpAQ4XkEisedvstb2tbKsM8npVH-V9zcLYp2xDRH8mNx9sV1aFihPplEgkeItoUTZgw/s1600-h/Fort+Scott+Build+3.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110816475792519458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBJSM7AOSLkBVy-xO-MLSDIqgfTt-W-yqZJecRa4Ne1bxMLLRsvCwKPQ-aCKjTtEP9oAuxKZyUpAQ4XkEisedvstb2tbKsM8npVH-V9zcLYp2xDRH8mNx9sV1aFihPplEgkeItoUTZgw/s400/Fort+Scott+Build+3.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEideLq9x1GTPB_kBl4UpMAZcQQJLd7Mk4ELcrKHaqYQS5vGK74ErA9cDZe6cLQzdzNCZmD4iik7YbornOwlGD75PcfBrZoK_Cnv5oPr-0WQyOR5PQCyuwxPCRMRcOdScAKmIISunut5CQ/s1600-h/Fort+Scott+Build+4.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110816480087486770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEideLq9x1GTPB_kBl4UpMAZcQQJLd7Mk4ELcrKHaqYQS5vGK74ErA9cDZe6cLQzdzNCZmD4iik7YbornOwlGD75PcfBrZoK_Cnv5oPr-0WQyOR5PQCyuwxPCRMRcOdScAKmIISunut5CQ/s400/Fort+Scott+Build+4.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg5prRnHorGDwD0yt2ACRpsFY9-oLeRboJ8fsHpiVqRQA_d1qO9c-4P8HFSXglNCa6_fnVaJ45pzPt9Yyd4WeS8Smy_KL7yaqkAUyFkZgaySDuoP6i4LlVFFREEYA_H4eaqwjJ02TxXQ/s1600-h/Fort+Scott+Build+5.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110816480087486786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg5prRnHorGDwD0yt2ACRpsFY9-oLeRboJ8fsHpiVqRQA_d1qO9c-4P8HFSXglNCa6_fnVaJ45pzPt9Yyd4WeS8Smy_KL7yaqkAUyFkZgaySDuoP6i4LlVFFREEYA_H4eaqwjJ02TxXQ/s400/Fort+Scott+Build+5.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>I never thought I'd be able to buy a house and live next to the 8 1/2, the tennis courts, the Senior Cabin, or the Play House. But it's open house this weekend at Fort Scott.<br /><br />Thumbnails below were from Fort Scott construction site on 1 July 2006. I have a full set of about 160 full size hi-res pictures I can send on CD if anyone wants them.<br />That's the Boys Flag on the first row left. They left it up during construction, maybe to have a known marker for laser surveying reasons while doing the grading and sewer pipe installation. </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>Bob</div><div> </div></div>Troubadorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03245772221940338444noreply@blogger.com1