Per a request so others who may not frequent the premium board can read:
I was a senior in high school, and I was getting close to wrapping up my time in Boy Scouts. A couple of the older guys from my troop, and specifically my patrol, had graduated a couple of years before. They had returned to troop meetings on a few occasions to catch up and tell stories of their time in the Corps and building Bonfire.
One of those guys was a somewhat awkward, marched to his own drum on occasion, extremely intelligent, always happy, ready to take on a challenge kind of guy. He often frustrated/annoyed his patrol mates with his unending exuberance and quirky ways of doing things. His infinite singing of "Stay on the Sunny Side of Life" was often intended to needle at us. He knew it was annoying, he knew it grew old. But he didn't care...our reactions always met his expectations. He and his best friend would often argue during camp outs only the way brothers do.
He once got left behind coming home from a jamboree because he became so engrossed with policing the area and looking at nature that he just kinda got separated from everybody.
He was "that guy" who took our "wilderness survival" camp outs to the extreme. He insisted tp was not meant to be used on that adventure, and he used flora for one of its alternate uses. Caked mud on his face to deter mosquitoes. Went the weekend without brushing his teeth, only to return to the main camping area after our day/night of backpacking and shelter building, and used lumps of charcoal to brush his teeth. His hands and faced were caked with an awesome combination of mud/dirt/charcoal, and hadn't so much as thought about giving a token attempt at washing his hands before eating. None of us had eaten all that much for a day or so, and of course were quite hungry. He promptly opened a box of cereal, shoved an arm to the bottom of the box, and didn't quite understand the look on our faces.
I wasn't that close of a friend because he was a couple years older and what not. I didn't know him deeply back then. But I spent many nights afield with him, and I know he loved everything about Texas A&M, the
Corps of Cadets, and Building the Hell Outta Bonfire. I could go on with stories about what a great Aggie, Scout, and overall human being he was. But memories are often best remembered, not spoken.
I'll never forget the day I found out Scott West died on the stack. The world lost an amazing young man that day.
Here.
I was a senior in high school, and I was getting close to wrapping up my time in Boy Scouts. A couple of the older guys from my troop, and specifically my patrol, had graduated a couple of years before. They had returned to troop meetings on a few occasions to catch up and tell stories of their time in the Corps and building Bonfire.
One of those guys was a somewhat awkward, marched to his own drum on occasion, extremely intelligent, always happy, ready to take on a challenge kind of guy. He often frustrated/annoyed his patrol mates with his unending exuberance and quirky ways of doing things. His infinite singing of "Stay on the Sunny Side of Life" was often intended to needle at us. He knew it was annoying, he knew it grew old. But he didn't care...our reactions always met his expectations. He and his best friend would often argue during camp outs only the way brothers do.
He once got left behind coming home from a jamboree because he became so engrossed with policing the area and looking at nature that he just kinda got separated from everybody.
He was "that guy" who took our "wilderness survival" camp outs to the extreme. He insisted tp was not meant to be used on that adventure, and he used flora for one of its alternate uses. Caked mud on his face to deter mosquitoes. Went the weekend without brushing his teeth, only to return to the main camping area after our day/night of backpacking and shelter building, and used lumps of charcoal to brush his teeth. His hands and faced were caked with an awesome combination of mud/dirt/charcoal, and hadn't so much as thought about giving a token attempt at washing his hands before eating. None of us had eaten all that much for a day or so, and of course were quite hungry. He promptly opened a box of cereal, shoved an arm to the bottom of the box, and didn't quite understand the look on our faces.
I wasn't that close of a friend because he was a couple years older and what not. I didn't know him deeply back then. But I spent many nights afield with him, and I know he loved everything about Texas A&M, the
Corps of Cadets, and Building the Hell Outta Bonfire. I could go on with stories about what a great Aggie, Scout, and overall human being he was. But memories are often best remembered, not spoken.
I'll never forget the day I found out Scott West died on the stack. The world lost an amazing young man that day.
Here.