Scouting and the Season

[skeptic]

Over the years I have accumulated a number of various seasonal graphics related to scouting, mostly U.S., but a few from other areas. Though I might post a few here, maybe one or two a day, just to share. Enjoy.

[skeptic]

One for the cubbing side. [ATTACH=CONFIG]n400905[/ATTACH]

[moosetracker]

No pictures, but I will share this.. Plan to read it at the Pack slumber party as a bedtime story ~~

 

‘Twas the Campout Before Christmas

By Kimberly Gilbert

With Apologies to Clement C. Moore

 

‘Twas the campout before Christmas, and all through the Pack

All the parents were sleeping, each one in their sack.

The wet socks were hung up on a half-hitch taut line,

In hopes they’d be sorta dry by den hike time.

 

The Cubs were all snuggled in cold weather mummies,

With too many s’mores stuffed down in their tummies.

And Ma on the air mattress and I on my cot

Had just settled down – without pillows; we forgot.

 

When outside my tent there arose such a noise,

I sprang from my cot thinking, “Oh, those boys!â€Â

So I grabbed my flashlight with the non-slip grip,

And fumbled with my front door so hard to unzip.

 

The moon shone through the treetops so clear and so bright,

I could see like the day time even though it was night.

And what to my red, weary eyes should appear,

But a blue and gold sleigh and a pack of reindeer.

 

A little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

Much faster than Eagles his den of deer came.

He held up two fingers and called them by name.

 

“Now, Tiger! Wolf, Bear! Now Weeb and Low!

On Bobcat! On Den-Chief! On Den-Leader! Go!

To the top of the tent, to the dining fly yon,

Now hurry up, hurry up, hurry up. Go on!â€Â

 

As lightning bugs flit and light like a fairy

On a soft summer breeze that moves through the prairie,

So up to the fire ring the reindeer did glide

With a sleigh full of toys and St. Nicholas inside.

 

And then in a twinkling, I heard them all munch

On all of those carrots left over from lunch.

As I turned on my flashlight and tried to turn round,

I tripped on my tent line and fell to the ground.

 

And there stood St. Nick – he was dressed all in khaki!

With his red wool patch jacket that looked kinda wacky.

A bundle of goodies he had flung on his back.

He looked like a den chief just opening his pack.

 

His eyes – how they twinkled! His dimples – how merry!

His cheeks were like hot coals, his nose like a berry.

His lips they were holding a “Hot Hands†aglow,

Which lit up his beard which was white as the snow.

 

His kerchief was wreath green and rolled nice and tight.

For any good Scout he was surely a sight!

He had a broad face and a round little tummy

That shook when he laughed like a big red squid gummy!

 

He was chubby and plump – a right jolly, old Scout,

And I laughed and I smiled for I hadn’t a doubt.

A wink of his eye and a two-fingered sign

Soon let me know I would be just fine.

 

He said not a word but went straight to his work

He filled all the wet socks and then turned with a smirk,

And laying two fingers aside of his brow,

He gave a big belch after sampling our chow!

 

He sprang to his sleigh, to his pack gave a shout

(Confirming to me he was really a Scout).

But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,

“Merry Christmas to all and to all, a good night!â€Â

 

[skeptic]

How about the older boy program? [ATTACH=CONFIG]n400930[/ATTACH]

[skeptic]

Here is one from the 30's and Poland. Maybe someone can translate for us? [ATTACH=CONFIG]n400950[/ATTACH]

[skeptic]

[ATTACH=CONFIG]n400966[/ATTACH] An image from a council newletter.

[skeptic]

[ATTACH=CONFIG]n401014[/ATTACH] One from B.P. in 1932

[skeptic]

Boy's Life has had some great Christmas covers. There are two covers; one does not appear without a click for some reason. [ATTACH=CONFIG]n401083[/ATTACH] [ATTACH=CONFIG]n401087[/ATTACH]

[OhioCM]

No pictures, but I will share this.. Plan to read it at the Pack slumber party as a bedtime story ~~

 

‘Twas the Campout Before Christmas

By Kimberly Gilbert

With Apologies to Clement C. Moore

 

‘Twas the campout before Christmas, and all through the Pack

All the parents were sleeping, each one in their sack.

The wet socks were hung up on a half-hitch taut line,

In hopes they’d be sorta dry by den hike time.

 

The Cubs were all snuggled in cold weather mummies,

With too many s’mores stuffed down in their tummies.

And Ma on the air mattress and I on my cot

Had just settled down – without pillows; we forgot.

 

When outside my tent there arose such a noise,

I sprang from my cot thinking, “Oh, those boys!â€Â

So I grabbed my flashlight with the non-slip grip,

And fumbled with my front door so hard to unzip.

 

The moon shone through the treetops so clear and so bright,

I could see like the day time even though it was night.

And what to my red, weary eyes should appear,

But a blue and gold sleigh and a pack of reindeer.

 

A little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

Much faster than Eagles his den of deer came.

He held up two fingers and called them by name.

 

“Now, Tiger! Wolf, Bear! Now Weeb and Low!

On Bobcat! On Den-Chief! On Den-Leader! Go!

To the top of the tent, to the dining fly yon,

Now hurry up, hurry up, hurry up. Go on!â€Â

 

As lightning bugs flit and light like a fairy

On a soft summer breeze that moves through the prairie,

So up to the fire ring the reindeer did glide

With a sleigh full of toys and St. Nicholas inside.

 

And then in a twinkling, I heard them all munch

On all of those carrots left over from lunch.

As I turned on my flashlight and tried to turn round,

I tripped on my tent line and fell to the ground.

 

And there stood St. Nick – he was dressed all in khaki!

With his red wool patch jacket that looked kinda wacky.

A bundle of goodies he had flung on his back.

He looked like a den chief just opening his pack.

 

His eyes – how they twinkled! His dimples – how merry!

His cheeks were like hot coals, his nose like a berry.

His lips they were holding a “Hot Hands†aglow,

Which lit up his beard which was white as the snow.

 

His kerchief was wreath green and rolled nice and tight.

For any good Scout he was surely a sight!

He had a broad face and a round little tummy

That shook when he laughed like a big red squid gummy!

 

He was chubby and plump – a right jolly, old Scout,

And I laughed and I smiled for I hadn’t a doubt.

A wink of his eye and a two-fingered sign

Soon let me know I would be just fine.

 

He said not a word but went straight to his work

He filled all the wet socks and then turned with a smirk,

And laying two fingers aside of his brow,

He gave a big belch after sampling our chow!

 

He sprang to his sleigh, to his pack gave a shout

(Confirming to me he was really a Scout).

But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,

“Merry Christmas to all and to all, a good night!â€Â

 

This is terrific, I can't believe I've never seen this before. Thanks moosetracker, I'm sending this to my cub parents immediately.

[bokris]

Here's the story that I shared at the end of Court of Honor tonight...

 

The Christmas Scout

 

In spite of the fun and laughter, 13-year-old Frank Wilson was not happy. It was true he had received all the presents he wanted. And he enjoyed the traditional Christmas Eve reunions with relatives for the purpose of exchanging gifts and good wishes. But, Frank was not happy because this was his first Christmas without his brother, Steve, who during the year, had been killed by a reckless driver.

Frank missed his brother and the close companionship they had together. Frank said good-bye to his relatives and explained to his parents that he was leaving a little early to see a friend; and from there he could walk home. Since it was cold outside, Frank put on his new plaid jacket. It was his FAVORITE gift. He placed the other presents on his new sled. Then Frank headed out, hoping to find the patrol leader of his Boy Scout troop. Frank always felt understood by him. Though rich in wisdom, he lived in the Flats, the section of town where most of the poor lived, and his patrol leader did odd jobs to help support his family.

 

To Frank's disappointment, his friend was not at home. As Frank hiked down the street toward home, he caught glimpses of trees and decorations in many of the small houses. Then, through one front window, he glimpsed a shabby room with limp stockings hanging over an empty fireplace. A woman was seated nearby . . . weeping. The stockings reminded him of the way he and his brother had always hung theirs side by side. The next morning, they would be bursting with presents.

 

A sudden thought struck Frank : he had not done his 'good deed' for the day. Before the impulse passed, he knocked on the door. 'Yes?' the sad voice of the woman asked. 'May I come in?' asked Frank. 'You are very welcome,' she said, seeing his sled full of gifts, and assuming he was making a collection, 'but I have no food or gifts for you. I have nothing for my own children.'

 

'That's not why I am here,' Frank replied. 'Please choose whatever presents you would like for your children from the sled.'

 

'Why, God bless you!' the amazed woman answered gratefully. She selected some candies, a game, the toy airplane and a puzzle. When she took the Scout flashlight, Frank almost cried out. Finally, the stockings were full.

 

'Won't you tell me your name?' she asked, as Frank was leaving.

 

'Just call me the Christmas Scout,' he replied.

 

The visit left Frank touched, and with an unexpected flicker of joy in his heart. He understood that his sorrow was not the only sorrow in the world. Before he left the Flats, he had given away the remainder of his gifts. The plaid jacket had gone to a shivering boy.

 

Now Frank trudged homeward, cold and uneasy. How could he explain to his parents that he had given his presents away? 'Where are your presents, son?' asked his father as Frank entered the house.

 

Frank answered, 'I gave them away.'

 

'The airplane from Aunt Susan? Your coat from Grandma? Your flashlight? We thought you were happy with your gifts.'

 

'I was very happy,' the boy answered quietly.

 

'But Frank, how could you be so impulsive?' his mother asked. 'How will we explain to the relatives who spent so much time and gave so much love shopping for you?'

 

His father was firm. 'You made your choice, Frank. We cannot afford any more presents.'

 

With his brother gone, and his family disappointed in him, Frank suddenly felt dreadfully alone. He had not expected a reward for his generosity; for he knew that a good deed always should be its own reward. It would be tarnished otherwise. So he did not want his gifts back; however he wondered if he would ever again truly recapture joy in his life. He thought he had this evening, but it had been fleeting. Frank thought of his brother, and sobbed himself to sleep.

 

The next morning, he came downstairs to find his parents listening to Christmas music on the radio. Then the announcer spoke: 'Merry Christmas, everybody! The nicest Christmas story we have this morning comes from the Flats. A crippled boy down there has a new sled this morning, another youngster has a fine plaid jacket, and several families report that their children were made happy last night by gifts from a teenage boy who simply called himself the Christmas Scout. No one could identify him, but the children of the Flats claim that the Christmas Scout was a personal representative of old Santa Claus himself.'

 

Frank felt his father's arms go around his shoulders, and he saw his mother smiling through her tears. 'Why didn't you tell us? We didn't understand. We are so proud of you, son.

 

The carols came over the air again filling the room with music: '. . . Praises sing to God the King, and peace to men on Earth.'

[skeptic]

Thre wise young men. [ATTACH=CONFIG]n401144[/ATTACH]

[frankpalazzi]

Here's the story that I shared at the end of Court of Honor tonight...

 

The Christmas Scout

 

In spite of the fun and laughter, 13-year-old Frank Wilson was not happy. It was true he had received all the presents he wanted. And he enjoyed the traditional Christmas Eve reunions with relatives for the purpose of exchanging gifts and good wishes. But, Frank was not happy because this was his first Christmas without his brother, Steve, who during the year, had been killed by a reckless driver.

Frank missed his brother and the close companionship they had together. Frank said good-bye to his relatives and explained to his parents that he was leaving a little early to see a friend; and from there he could walk home. Since it was cold outside, Frank put on his new plaid jacket. It was his FAVORITE gift. He placed the other presents on his new sled. Then Frank headed out, hoping to find the patrol leader of his Boy Scout troop. Frank always felt understood by him. Though rich in wisdom, he lived in the Flats, the section of town where most of the poor lived, and his patrol leader did odd jobs to help support his family.

 

To Frank's disappointment, his friend was not at home. As Frank hiked down the street toward home, he caught glimpses of trees and decorations in many of the small houses. Then, through one front window, he glimpsed a shabby room with limp stockings hanging over an empty fireplace. A woman was seated nearby . . . weeping. The stockings reminded him of the way he and his brother had always hung theirs side by side. The next morning, they would be bursting with presents.

 

A sudden thought struck Frank : he had not done his 'good deed' for the day. Before the impulse passed, he knocked on the door. 'Yes?' the sad voice of the woman asked. 'May I come in?' asked Frank. 'You are very welcome,' she said, seeing his sled full of gifts, and assuming he was making a collection, 'but I have no food or gifts for you. I have nothing for my own children.'

 

'That's not why I am here,' Frank replied. 'Please choose whatever presents you would like for your children from the sled.'

 

'Why, God bless you!' the amazed woman answered gratefully. She selected some candies, a game, the toy airplane and a puzzle. When she took the Scout flashlight, Frank almost cried out. Finally, the stockings were full.

 

'Won't you tell me your name?' she asked, as Frank was leaving.

 

'Just call me the Christmas Scout,' he replied.

 

The visit left Frank touched, and with an unexpected flicker of joy in his heart. He understood that his sorrow was not the only sorrow in the world. Before he left the Flats, he had given away the remainder of his gifts. The plaid jacket had gone to a shivering boy.

 

Now Frank trudged homeward, cold and uneasy. How could he explain to his parents that he had given his presents away? 'Where are your presents, son?' asked his father as Frank entered the house.

 

Frank answered, 'I gave them away.'

 

'The airplane from Aunt Susan? Your coat from Grandma? Your flashlight? We thought you were happy with your gifts.'

 

'I was very happy,' the boy answered quietly.

 

'But Frank, how could you be so impulsive?' his mother asked. 'How will we explain to the relatives who spent so much time and gave so much love shopping for you?'

 

His father was firm. 'You made your choice, Frank. We cannot afford any more presents.'

 

With his brother gone, and his family disappointed in him, Frank suddenly felt dreadfully alone. He had not expected a reward for his generosity; for he knew that a good deed always should be its own reward. It would be tarnished otherwise. So he did not want his gifts back; however he wondered if he would ever again truly recapture joy in his life. He thought he had this evening, but it had been fleeting. Frank thought of his brother, and sobbed himself to sleep.

 

The next morning, he came downstairs to find his parents listening to Christmas music on the radio. Then the announcer spoke: 'Merry Christmas, everybody! The nicest Christmas story we have this morning comes from the Flats. A crippled boy down there has a new sled this morning, another youngster has a fine plaid jacket, and several families report that their children were made happy last night by gifts from a teenage boy who simply called himself the Christmas Scout. No one could identify him, but the children of the Flats claim that the Christmas Scout was a personal representative of old Santa Claus himself.'

 

Frank felt his father's arms go around his shoulders, and he saw his mother smiling through her tears. 'Why didn't you tell us? We didn't understand. We are so proud of you, son.

 

The carols came over the air again filling the room with music: '. . . Praises sing to God the King, and peace to men on Earth.'

THAT is going out to the entire troop on Christmas Eve!

[skeptic]

A little holiday punishment.

 

This guy goes into a restaurant for a Christmas breakfast while in his hometown for the holidays. After looking over the menu he says, "I'll just have the eggs Benedict." His order comes a while later and it's served on a big, shiny hubcap. He asks the waiter, "What's with the hubcap?" The waiter sings, "Oh, there's no plate like chrome for the hollandaise!"

 

A group of chess enthusiasts checked into a hotel and were standing in the lobby discussing their recent tournament victories. After about an hour, the manager came out of the office and asked them to disperse. "But why?," they asked, as they moved off. "Because," he said, "I can't stand chess nuts boasting in an open foyer."

[skeptic]

From the 20's [ATTACH=CONFIG]n401203[/ATTACH]

[skeptic]

Nuf said [ATTACH=CONFIG]n401275[/ATTACH]