Ode to a Temporary Dad

I cannot remember his name. I cannot remember the way he looked or how he spoke. I cannot remember where he lived or what he did for a living. What I can remember and what I will never forget is the affect he had on my young life and the gift that he gave to me a perfect stranger.

His appearance in my life was brief a few weekends over a two-year period. I was ten years old and a member of the local Boy Scout Troop.

I was not the most outgoing scout but I enjoyed the various events especially working toward earning my merit badges. I made several new friends and I was looking forward to the first overnight trip when someone hit the emergency brakes and brought my scouting dreams to jarring stop.

It seems that at the time the rule was that each boy must be accompanied by his father on any overnight outings. Which left me out in the cold. My parents were divorced and my father was an irresponsible alcoholic who could not be counted upon to participate in any parental activities. None of my uncles lived near by and there were no family friends of the male persuasion available.

I was fortunate enough to have a Scout Master who understood my situation and who went the extra mile to ensure my ability to participate in overnight activities. He was unavailable for the role of weekend father because his sons were already members of the troop. However he did get on the phone and explain my predicament to a friend of his who volunteered his services.

Nervous does not begin to describe how I felt on the weekend of my first ever-camping trip. In 1969 being in a single parent family was still rather rare and I was not sure how I would handle a weekend where all of my friends were with their dad's and I was with a stranger who had volunteered to be my temporary dad. Would we get along? Would he even like me? Thousands of thoughts chased each other around my head while I waited for the big event.

Saturday morning arrived and found me waiting in front of my house with my pack and sleeping bag. I was going to ride with my Scout Leader and his friend. They finally arrived and introductions were made. It was not as bad as I imagined. He was just a guy and he appeared to be as nervous as I was. He broke the ice by offering everyone a sample of venison jerky that he had made himself after a recent deer-hunting trip. While I was not interested in the hunting part I did listen intently when he described the backpacking and the wilderness skills that he had.

By the time we arrived at the campground we were becoming old friends. We chatted a bit and he taught me how to build our tent. Most of the day was spent in-group activities and my focus drifted from being without my "dad" to just participating. Time passed and before I knew it the sun was setting and all the scouts drifted towards their fathers for some quiet time before dinner.

I found my way back to the tent where my "temporary dad" was waiting. I sat next to him and watched the bonding taking place all around the campground. My thoughts must have traveled pretty far because the next thing I remember was "dad" placing a hand on my shoulder and asking me if I wanted to go for a walk. I shrugged my shoulder, got up and followed him out of camp.

Eventually we came to a small lake and sat quietly for a while skipping stones across the water.

Finally he looked at me, smiled and told me a story.

He said that not to many years ago he had found himself in a similar situation. He was a scout and his father was no longer around. He did not go into a lot of detail but what it all boiled down to is that someone had volunteered to be his "dad" for a few weekend trips and it had made an impression on him. While it was never the same as being with his real dad in some ways it was better because his "temporary dad" wanted to be there and he made the trips special in his own way. He said that he had made a promise to himself that the best way to pay back his "temporary dad" was to do the same for someone else if and when the opportunity presented itself.

He told me that this was his opportunity and the only goal he had was to make sure I had the best of all possible weekends.

I sat quietly digesting what he had told me. Finally I gave him a tentative smile and thanked him for coming along. Just than we heard the dinner call and he gave my head a quick rub pulled me to my feet and shouted; "Last one back in camp is a rotten egg!"

That and the other weekends we spent together were memorable in their ordinariness. It was as if we had formed our own little family of boys/men without dads. We hiked and ran and swam and told ghost stories under the stars. When the trips ended we went our separate ways.

Once my scouting days were over we drifted apart and lost track of each other.

As an adult I would have liked the opportunity to personally thank him for all he did for me. Since that is not possible, I mean how can I find him if I cannot even remember his name, so I thank him by attempting to pass on the lessons he taught me. I offer a shoulder where I see one is needed. An ear where I see a child who just needs someone to listen. Or a good "last one to the pool is a rotten egg" when all that is needed is someone to remind them that life is really all about having fun. Especially when you are ten.