Opportunity Knocks #35 - Sacrifice and Celebration

Fourth of July. Its just days away. People are heading for the lake, heading into the country where they can shoot off fireworks and have picnics and meet with family members. People are purchasing outdoor games and ice chests and yard furniture. An American holiday. The Fourth of July. Parades down the main street of almost every American city and town. Bands. Flags, Dogs with red, white, and blue ribbons around their necks. Bicycles with red, white and blue streamers in the spokes. Horns honking. Hot dogs burning. Mustard and catsup dripping. Businesses are organizing soft ball games and horse show tournaments. Fun!!! Fun all over America.

But what is it, exactly, that we are celebrating. Shouldn't we give that a thought? Shouldn't Scouts give that a thought? We wear ana American flag patch on our uniform. Shouldn't we consider what that flag represents? We look forward to the days off from work and we look forward to the time to be spent with friends and family. This holiday hasn't come without a cost. And I'm not talking money!

Many families will celebrate this holiday with a slightly different view. They watch children at play with their dads and they are reminded of men and women who are no longer here. They celebrate the holiday with a mixture of sadness, sacrifice, celebration and patriotism. And they need to know that Americans are very aware of the cost of this red, white, and blue holiday. A cost that America has paid, but that they have paid personally. The loss of a dad, the loss of a family member, the loss of a loved one.

So, as we embark on another Fourth of July, let's do so in the true American spirit. We celebrate because others laid down their lives to insure that we can continue to celebrate. From those first Minutemen at Concord and Lexington and Valley Forge, to the soldiers who stand on lonely street corners in Iraq and Afganistan, fighting an enemy that they cannot see, and enemy that is so very jealous of what we have in America and want so desperately to take it from us, and all those soldiers, men and women, in all those wars in between. WWI, WWII, Korea, Viet Nam, Desert Storm, Desert Shield. America has sacrificed so much to preserve our freedom and our way of life. America has sacrificed so much to offer that way of life to people everywhere.

We shouldn't celebrate the Fourth of July without remembering that little boy who's dad will never see him hit a home run, that little girl whose dad will never walk her down the aisle at her wedding or see the birth of her first child, the old man who will never have grandchildren because his only son lies somewhere far away in an unmarked grave. Men and women who have stepped up to the plate when the game was in doubt. Men and women who said that their team was going to win no matter what the cost. Men and women who stood in the way of tyrants all across the world and said to those dangerous men, ...."not today, not in America'. Many of those men and women never came home. They deserve to be honored on the Fourth of July. They are what this day is all about. Not the hot dogs or the picnic basket. Not the sun glasses or water skis. Not the donkey with the red, white, and blue hat. The men and women who made the sacrifice. The men and women who stand guard in faraway places. The men and women who take the risks that insure our continued freedom. The men and women that wonder if their next step will be their last. The men and women who wonder if they will ever see their homeland again. They deserve for the person carrying the American flag in all those little Fourth of July parades all across this sometimes ungrateful country, to feel the weight of that flag. To feel the burden of what was lost. Of the sacrifice that was willingly given.

A mathematical certainty. The continued ability of American citizens to take a day off for picnics, softball games, and hotdogs, is directly proportional to the willingness of Americans too stand up and offer their very lives in the preservation of those three important little words. Liberty for all.

I'm sitting here at my desk looking at a gift that I received some years ago. It's a photograph of four young men sitting on top of Baldy Mountain at Philmont Scout Ranch. The four young men are great scouts and very dear friends. Seated on top of Baldy, heads wrapped in American flag scarves, the American Flag itself blowing in the wind behind them, and the snow covered mountains providing an amazing backdrop..well..its one of my favorite photographs and one of my most cherished gifts. And right next to it is a little photograph of my dad. A man I never met. A man who gave his life in the air over Japan in WWII. A man who rests in one of those unmarked graves. I know my dad would have liked these four young men. And I know he would have appreciated how proudly they displayed the American flag.

And I know he would have liked the nine young men who are leaving for Philmont on July 8. I hope that at least one of them reads this Opportunity knocks before they leave. I have a special Fourth of July request for them. I would ask them to do something very important for me. I would ask that they find a peaceful place at Philmont, Baldy, Miranda, Euells Park, Vista Grande, it doesn't matter where. There are so many peaceful places there. I hope they will stop somewhere in the shade, get together, and say a prayer. A meaningful prayer. A prayer giving thanks for all those men and women who are spending time away from home, away from their families, away from their country. I would ask that they pray for all those little boys and girls who in 2006 are celebrating the Fourth of July without a father or a mother because that parent has given their life in defense of our freedom. And finally, I would ask that they pray for all those American citizens who celebrated the Fourth of July without giving a thought to the sacrifice that made their celebration possible. A prayer for them to see the light of what has been given to them and what has been done for them and for their children.

I'm so glad these young men are getting to experience Philmont. But I'll be praying too while they are gone and I'll be giving thanks that these young men are experiencing much, much more than Philmont. They are experiencing America. Land of the free, home of the brave. Land of the Pilgrim's pride. Land where our fathers died. From every mountainside. Let Freedom ring. We were so lucky to be born in America. We are truly blessed by God.

At Christmas time, we talk about "the reason for the season". On the Fourth of July, we should do no less. Sacrifice and celebration. On the Fourth of July, they go hand in hand.

Have a great Fourth of July.
Bill Shaffer

Opportunity Knocks #34 - The Circle of Life

Last week we attended summer camp at the Hale Scout Reservation near Talihina Oklahoma. I've been there before. In fact, there have been lots of "befores". We first started going to Hale back in the 70's when the Indian Nations Council merged with the Choctaw Area Council. It was a bitter merger but all that is in the past now. It was a wonderful week. A couple of problems but nothing major. The Honor Court didn't have to meet and I didn't need any Tylenol. Everything went very smoothly. Since there were no crisis situations, neither injuries or negative behavior (well, there was a little! But it wasn't bad.), I had the opportunity to do a lot of thinking. Sometimes that's not good but in this case it was OK.

The trigger? Well, it started a week before camp. We went to see "The Lion King" here in Tulsa. We've been waiting for it for years and it was finally here. And we weren't disappointed. It was wonderful. To all you alumni out there, wherever you are, if it comes to your city, take your kids and go. If you don't have any kids, go anyway. Artistically, musically, and dramatically, it was outstanding. I love the theater and I've seen some great performances here in Tulsa. "Les Miserables" and "Phantom of the Opera" were my favorites up to this point, but there have been lots of others. And Lion King is maybe the best of all. Theater in Tulsa really is wonderful. If you are looking for a place to spend your entertainment dollar, you can't go wrong with the theater. A wonderful evening. A wonderful evening had by all!

All? Who is "all"? Well, that is the subject of Opportunity Knocks 34.

We went to the theater that night with good friends Ray and Shar Yarroll, their sons, RC and Ross, And RC's wife, Kristen, and two sons, Logan and Ethan. When the cast started singing "Circle of Life", that's when I started thinking about Troop 26. And I couldn't stop. I watched RC's little guys as they watched the parade of animals and remembered RC and Ross when they joined Troop 26 years ago. I remembered them on their first campout, Ross at Zink Scout Ranch and RC a month later at the Explorer Base. I remembered taking a photo of Ross with Joel Stinnett. Joel has boys of his own now too and they, hopefully, are headed for Troop 26 someday. Just like Logan and Ethan. Before the performance was over, I had created my own little "circle of life" right there in my head. I remembered the first time Don Hull Jr. walked into one of our meetings. Don sat on an Eagle Board last Tuesday. I remembered walking down a trail at Garland and stumbling into a little Webelos den walking up the trail. Alex Points. He's in college now and his little brother, who isn't little anymore, is my Leadership Corps chairman. I thought about the first day I met Mark Weaver. He's married now, he and both of his brothers are Eagle Scouts, and youngest brother Jeff is now one of my Assistant Scoutmasters and advisor to the Leadership corps.

I thought about Rick Hayes. My first official "Troop 26 problem child." He is now a long time and much valued Assistant Scoutmaster with two sons who are Eagle Scouts just like their dad and also Assistant Scoutmasters. I thought about Randy McGuire and Alan Hart and Jonathan Holloman and Chris Morehead and Ryan White and Michael Sturm and Adam Gist and Bill McGhee and TC Nulf, kids initially and now grown up and serving in Troop 26 adult roles.

I thought about Steve West in Australia, Matt Mecke in China, and I thought about new Eagle Scout Andrew Parks and his family heading for New Zealand for a year and my current SPL Eagle Scout Daniel Rusco heading to Germany for ten months. I thought about some of our scouts serving in Afganistan and Iraq. I thought about Thad Bibb in the Pentagon, Doctor Kevin Dukes performing surgery at St Francis, Dentist Brett Dieterlen, political candidate David Schaffer and policemen Darren Carlock and Mark Hodges. I thought about Scott Lybarger and his son in Alabama, and Whit Fields and his son in Texas, and Erik Charles and his son in California and Brandt Elsberry and his son in Missouri and Tom Steele and his son right here in Tulsa. I wonder how many more have sons and daughters that I don't know about. I thought about Brett Paschal and MichaeI Lasker and the impact they are making in Hollywood. I remembered all the Halls and all the Hanners and all the Austins. I remembered when Bud Kunze's grandsons attended summer camp with us and Bert Shelby's grandson did too. I remembered all the Cox boys and their sisters from the early days of my Scoutmastership. I remembered Buddy Kunze and his boys, Bill and Tim, and I remembered Leon Smith and Ester and their sons Neil and Paul. I remembered my fifth grade Sunday School class. Mark Herhold and Tommy Dittus and Billy Barbero and David LeRiche. Duncan and David Cox came along at that time too. All became Scouts. All became Eagles.

At last Monday night's meeting, Robert Hefley and his dad were there. Robert got his Eagle Scout award presented by Gerald Ford years ago. He was looking for uniforms for his son as he receives his Eagle Scout Award over in Arkansas. Both of his brothers, John and Danny, were Eagles too. I've been in touch with Jeff Moore. His son will be ready to join soon and I hope that Jeff will decide to become an Assistant Scoutmaster.

As I sat in that dark theater and watched a grown up Simba look up into the heavens and Rafiki told him about his father, Mufasa, and the ancient kings and how they looked down from the starry skies, I couldn't help thinking about my own Troop 26 Scoutmasters, Jim Goller and Zeke Dampf. I remember Pastor Frank. And I thought of Vance Tuttle and Bob Frandsen and Sidney Craig. I thought of John and Jack Zink. And I thought of Herb Cunningham. Herb. How I miss Herb. The ancient kings, looking down on what they helped create.

These people and many, many more have been drifting in and out of my mind since that day in the theater. I mentioned many of them in this segment of Opportunity Knocks. If I wrote this same story tomorrow, it would have all different names. I know that the minute I hit the "send" button, I'll think of ten more faces from the past. And then ten more. And ten more after that. There have been so many. And there will be so many more. They come, they go, they return to scouting later, if not to 26 then somewhere else. And wherever they are they remember their days at Kunze's Farm and Mystery Dog Creek and Billy's Crack. They remember Garland, Hale, Quivira, Ben DeLatour, Rand, Will Rogers and Pirtle. They remember the cold water rushing in when their canoe tumps over in the Illinois and that strange sound when their styrofoam ice chest breaks in half on the rocks. They remember the sound of the beaver's tail at Sommers Canoe Base and the mini bears at Philmont. The thousands and thousands of kids marching to the arena shows at eight different National Jamborees. The sounds of the night, the heat of the day, the gentle (and sometimes not so gentle) rain on your face. The way your fingers feel when you try to roll up a tent that is crusted with ice. The looks on the faces of the scouts in other troops when they hear "Wa-da-ka-chew". They remember Lloyd Linde and Dick Shelton and Tony and Terri Duncan and James and Luz smith and all the Oklahoma special Camporees. They will remember Dennis and donalyn Zvacek and all the Arrow of Light Ceremonies. They'll remember Ed Herhold and Dick Austin at Philmont and JJ Jorishie at Sommers Canoe Base. They'll remember the night the first Stickmen were inducted. The night of their first Court of Honor. The day President Ford stepped inside Good Shepherd Lutheran Church. The day Troop 26 got off the plane..in Alaska. So much has gone before and so much is coming later. So much legend. So much history.

So many kids. So many memories. A Scouting circle of life. What started in the church basement over 50 years ago, continues to grow and influence communities all around the world. Troop 26. A Circle of Life. And, like Simba, we look at the part we played in it. We remember the people who stood next to us around the campfire and sat next to us on the bus. We wonder where they are and how they are doing. And we wonder if they are remembering too.

And just when I think my part in this human drama is just about over, that its time to move on to other things...I turn my head slightly in that darkened theater and look down the aisle and see Logan and Ethan Yarroll. They are watching Mufasa and Sarabi, standing on Pride Rock, as Rafiki holds the baby Simba up for all the inhabitants of the pridelands to see. The Circle of Life. And I realize that my part in this circle isn't quite over. More are coming. More are coming back. Chris Morehead just got married. Don Zvacek is engaged. The circle is widening. The relationships are changing and deepening.

Well, summer camp is over for another year. It's almost time for another Senior Patrol Leader. Its almost time for another season of Arrow of Light ceremonies and more Webelos joining our circle. More Eagle Scouts off to colleges and universities. More weddings and more births.

I close Opportunity Knocks #34 by reminding you of the famous statue of the Native American on a horse, slumped forward, tired, worn out. The title for that statue is "End of the Trail." That will never apply to Troop 26. Because we are traveling... In a circle. A Circle of Life.

Opportunity Knocks #33 - Memorial Day

Memorial Day. A national holiday. Picnics. Ultimate frizbee. Hotdogs and burgers. Watermelon. Softball. People headed for the lake. Little kids in waterwings. Splashing and laughing. The grill. The backyard. Hope the weather cooperates with our plans for Memorial Day. People doing what they want. At what price?

America. The superbowl of democracys. The best game in the world. Sure, some people have better seats but you can always work hard and upgrade. Everyone can dream about the luxery boxes. Some people have premium parking and some take the bus. Some have to walk. Sure, some people get too loud but the ushers handle that and protect your ability to see the game. There is a lot of stuff to buy out in the tunnels. You can't afford all of it but someday you might. There are two teams playing and you can support whichever one you want. You can yell and clap and stand and cheer. Somebody sings a song at the start of the game and some guys walk out on the field with some flags. But you don't have to sing. You don't even really have to stand up but most people do. Some even take their hats off.

Its a great game, this superbowl of democracys. But as exciting as the game is, you can't get in without buying a ticket. But in America, we're lucky. We can walk right in because somebody else has already paid the price of the ticket. We ought to thank them but more often than not, we don't know their names. Out of sight, out of mind....right? We just walk right in and participate in the superbowl of democracy and don't give it another thought.

Today, I wonder who bought my ticket. Sure, I like hotdogs and watermelon. I like to play horseshoes and football and softball. But I want to know who bought my ticket. You don't get anything in this world for nothing and I have a lot to be thankful for. Who paid? Who made it possible? Who bought the ticket for me?

Was it a guy at Concord and Lexington. A guy who really wanted to be a farmer but decided to get his rifle down off the wall above the fireplace because he believed in a new idea for his children. Did he stand there in the street, watching the most powerful army in the world walking towards him, dressed in bright red with flags flying, pipes playing, sunlight gleaming off the tips of thousands of bayonets? Was he scared? Did he think of his family as he fell?

Was it a guy in 1812? Watching from across the road as the White House burned. Do you think he wanted to keep this grand idea of democracy alive a little longer so that his children could live in freedom. Do you think he wondered if these men dressed in red coats would ever leave him alone to raise his family in peace?

Was it a guy who watched his brother fall at Gettysburg? Was he scared too? Did he cry when the man next to him fell? Did he think about running when the officer he respected was blown off the horse he was riding? Did he have a wife? Did he have a son? Was his last thought of them?

Was it a guy in World War I? Lying scared in a trench. Waiting for the signal to get up and run towards an unseen enemy who was right at that very minute pointing a gun in his direction. Do you think he thought about his childhood in Alabama or Texas or Maryland? Do you think he might have liked watermelon?

Was it a guy in World War II? A guy who watched as some Americans on a distant hill struggled to raise a beautiful red, white, and blue flag amid a hail of bullets from an enemy who was dedicated to destroying this grand idea Americans had grown to love.

Was it a guy in Korea? Charging up Pork Chop Hill and taking it, then losing it, then taking it again.

A hill. A man giving his life for a hill. Anybody know where Pork Chop Hill is? Or that street in Lexington? Or that trench in France? Anybody visited Bataan lately or visited Normandy? Anybody vacationed at the spot where Douglas MacArthur stepped out of the boat when he returned to the Philippines? Or the spot where George Washington got in the boat to cross the Deleware. Anybody watch the people playing frizbee with their dog at Valley Forge and give a single thought to the men who froze there for this grand idea. Anybody head for the local picnic ground and drive past the silent fields of Gettysburg. The gentle breeze and the calls of songbirds in the lush forests are all that remain of the place where blood ran like rivers, where men in blue and men in gray lay side by side in death.

Was it a guy in Viet Nam? A guy who left his family to fight a war nobody liked. A guy who shed a tear as he was pushed in a wheelchair through an airport lobby, listening as people laughed and pointed at him, flinching as a hippy stepped up and spit on him, the spit landing on the spot where his leg used to be.

Was it a guy in Desert Storm or Desert Shield. A guy standing in a place whose name he couldn't pronounce. A place covered in sand. A place where death could come in the form of a child.

Was it a guy who rode the first tank into the Nazi death camps? Was it a guy who watched General Lee sign the surrender at Appomattox? Was it a guy who watched the Japanese sign their surrender on the deck of the [USS Missouir]? Was it a guy who found the leader of Iraq cowering in a hole after being responsible for the deaths of millions of his own countrymen? I wonder if those countrymen dreamed of America. Was it a guy who walked home to the farm from the Battle of Lexington, put his rifle back up on its place above the mantle, picked up his little son, and stood on his porch, looking at a land that was free for another day.

Who bought my ticket? Who made it possible for me to chose my path in life? Who made it possible for me to live in a country without fear? I want to know. Before I eat that hotdog or throw that frizbee. Before I head for the lake. I want to know.

And I want other Americans to wonder too. I want Republicans and Democrats to wonder who bought their tickets. I want the Dallas Cowboys and the New York Yankees to wonder who bought their tickets. I want the Dixie Chicks to wonder who paid for their tickets.

As we see all those little men with their VFW hats on with all their medals and pins, proudly displayed on bodies with missing limbs , wrinkles and liver spots, I want Americans to wonder how many tickets they bought. Those little men with tears on their faces as they remember fallen comrads and places with funny names where they left their youth, I want Americans to look at them and wonder about the tickets they bought. I want Americans to look at these little men and remember them as the giants they once were. And when we see Arlington Cemetary and the places in France where the white crosses stand in row after row as far as the eye can see, we should all think of the men and women who paid the ultimate price for a ticket.

When I have taken the time to think of these men and women, when I have taken the time to think of the price they paid for my ticket, when I think of the families and children that they left behind to live in a land that is safe and free, when I think of all those little boys who were never coached by their dad or had their dads see them hit a home run or score a touchdown, when I think of all those little girls whose mothers will never see them in their wedding dress or see the birth of their grandbaby, when I think of all those men and women in uniform who left their families to go to foreign shores in search of my ticket, when I stop what I am doing and celebrate the gift of freedom and remember the people who gave that gift to me..... then.....and only then......will I eat that hotdog on Memorial Day.

Thanks Dad! Thanks for my ticket.

Bill Shaffer
Memorial Day, 2006