Be Prepared: A Brief Personal Review of Vera Brosgol's Russian Scouts in Exile Graphic Novel

 In her semi-biographical graphic novel Be Prepared, Vera Brosgol epitomizes many of the experiences of going to summer camp for the first time. The manipulations of younger Scouts by specific older Scouts, the cruel mockery of teens, and the heightened drama of young hormones all ring true, as does the hoarding of candy. Someday the tale of the Boar of Pioneer Campsite will be told! The integration of boys and girls was not familiar from Boy Scout camp (until recently), but was indeed familiar from Catholic Youth Organization (CYO) and various programs put on by the Episcopal Diocese of California (BREAD - "Boy-Related Education After Dark!) The CYO experience seems most relevant in the context of not quite fitting. Vera's protagonist Vera thinks that attending Russian Scout camp will allow her to find a place where she fits in, but she is not Russian enough there just as she is too Russian in New York with her (perceived as?) rich friends and their fancy dolls and summer camps. The organization itself seems a bit out of place, a piece of Russia in America, exemplified by the Russian and American flags flying side by side. Many Scouts have been all the roles in the book: the lost new kid, the best friend, the best friend betrayed and bitter, the unexpected friend, the cool counselor, the manipulator and the manipulated. Growing up is hard. Be Prepared is terrific.

Names and Numbers

For years, our cabins (ours in the sense that we live there, not that we own them or are able to deny access to them in other sessions at Royaneh) at Pioneers had number only, one to seven,  although cabin seven was the most desirable, being easier to clean although farthest from the fall-ins at the junction of the road and the campsite. This has changed; although the numbers have remained, each cabin has a name, according to the donors who funded the construction of newer, better cabins, although in the same basic form as the old cabins. This pouring of money into the cabins was an expansion of a long tradition of maintaining the cabins lest they be replaced with the abominations that are more friendly to non-Scout populations but reduce the outdoorsy nature of the summer camp experience. Traditionally, these repairs were done during the Good Turn weekend, but the aggressive promotion of Camporee has thrown off that custom.

Giving something a name is a momentous occasion; it is not a coincidence that the naming of the beasts by Adam occupies a prominent position. Names give an identity that numbers cannot. Although the cabins have retained their numbers, the use of the new names - Weber, Callendar, Skewes-Cox, Ehrman, Applegarth, Morrissey, and the one I'm forgetting - has begun to rise. Will the numbers cease to be used? What will happen when a Scout who shares a name with the cabin dwells therein?

The Last Days of Forty-Niner

One summer, when I was in college and helping at Royaneh with Troop 14, a camp commissioner, whose son was in the troop, approached. He said that Troop 347 was coming to camp in the third week and urgently needed extra adult leaders. He asked me if I would help him with the leadership of that troop. I said yes. I had no summer job to which to return, and I have always believed in the Scout Law. So I was present at the third opening campfire of the year as a provisional leader, a leader on loan, as it were, from another troop. Troop 347 had a much smaller contingent than Troop 14, and camped in Forty-Niner, which lay below the chapel and the horseshoe pit. Once this campsite had contained four cabins in the same style as that of the Pioneer campsite, but erosion and weathering had reduced it from four to two plus a fire pit. The 347 contingent was small enough to fit, even though one of the cabins had a gaping hole at the back which made the building only half-usable. This 347 had disabilities - but with aid, they could attend Scout camp. It may seem strange that the council would put Scouts in a campsite with hazards for even non-disabled persons, but I am no expert in the difficulties of ADA compliance and fundamentally physical spaces such as summer camps. Every time I stepped into the cabin, I felt a twinge of fear lest someone, disabled or not, should fall through or lacerate themselves, There were many enjoyable times that session, but when I returned next summer and found Forty-Niner had been torn down, I shed no tears. Forty-Niner is now a toy-sized climbing wall to provide an extra merit badge area.

Royaneh 2012

This year at Royaneh saw a lot of action up on Pioneer Hill. The new flush toilet had some starting difficulties – as unattractive as a kybo can be, it cannot be jammed up. The migration to Big Egypt has not ebbed. Speaking of Egypt, the international Scout this year, Sharif, was from Cairo, and many of the neat things in the Trading Post were Egyptian-themed. It's a testament to the power of Scouting that Mubarak, the former ruler of Egypt, banned Scouting in his country. Opening campfire was a bit rough, as it always is, and some of the first years became confused on Monday about which classes they were taking. Gladiators was restored to a semblance of its rodeo days glory, complete with a rodeo-style opening ceremony. Horsemanship was popular with the Scouts this year, as was Astronomy/SpaceEx merit badge. Scouting heritage appears to have joined the regular stable, rather than remaining a centenary phenomenon. A lot of merit badge classes at Royaneh are doubled, so that you can get two badges at once. It's great to have more badges for your sash, especially at a traditional Fourteener color guard, but part of me does wonder whether the doubling diminishes the information content of each badge.


There was a touch of the plague at camp, but it passed over Fourteen with one unfortunate exception. Other troops, however, were not so lucky – one lost nine kids, half its contingent. The good side effect of the reports of sickness was cooperation with the shower patrol for the dirty little first years. The troop skit was well-executed, thanks to preparation by one of the older Scouts. I missed the first closing campfire because I had whacked my shin, but I did have the pleasure of chasing away some miscreants from a different troop who (believe it or not) wanted to steal the 14 and transport it to the top of camp. Saturday, of course, contained a game of Capture the Flag and some very cold and wet, but poison oak-free Scouts. The Scout leading Sunday's Scout's Own is the descendant of a rabbi and it showed. I do not know where the parent who was scheduled to speak was during the Scout's Own, so I spoke instead.

Monday, of course, brought classes. Beck and I were the uniformed leadership for week 2. Fourteeners were more active during this week, and one of our own designed an Advanced Riflery class. All the first years did the Trail of the Thunderbird. I held my own in the Scoutmaster dance-off on Tuesday, but I did not win. On Wednesday, Gladiators both went long and had a snarled schedule. I'm sure that by next year the staff will have the format streamlined. The skit for the second week was the same as the first, but with a slightly different cast, although all the actors were once again first years. Friday night, of course, was the Troop Feed, which lasted into the wee hours of the morning. Those Scouts who had brought guitars, ukuleles, and other instruments entertained the group, but I didn't get to bed until 3 because I was out with the fire crew cooling the fire.

Royaneh 2011

*Sorry about the delayed posting - I was going to post it earlier today. Share and enjoy!

This was going to be the year when I spent the whole two weeks at Royaneh: it didn't quite work that way, but it came close. After a late doctor's appointment (the appointment was late, not the doctor!), I came up to Royaneh mid-Thursday. I recieved an enthusiastic welcome and settled into my usual location near the sweet aromas of the latrine.

The dining hall was packed, so much so that the camp staff had to eat outside or elsewhere. The reason for this overflowing cup? One of the camps in the Sierra was still under three feet of snow (a phenomenon which I can well believe, since I'd just been at Tahoe and marvelled at the remaining snowpack), and the troops which usually camped there had taken refuge at Royaneh. One of the interesting side effects of this generosity was the overlap of numbers, and a curious insistence on initials after troop names. For once, we shared a number with another troop.

Thursday was skit night, and our guys had chosen a familiar skit. The problem was this: it was familiar to the Scouts in the troop, but not to the rest of the camp. It is difficult to involve the whole troop and have a focused skit.

Friday brought the usual flurry of requests for me to sign this and initial that, and the reassurance that a two-week troop can provide more opportunity to complete partials. One of the merit badges offered that week, the surprise badge of the summer, was Nuclear Energy, which did not seem to me a "camp badge", but then, how many people are qualified to teach it? Another badge, Scouting History, seemed questionable. I may, however, be biased, as one of the requirements made me realize how long I have been involved with Scouting. Closing campfire caused the usual cognitive dissonance among the two-weekers, but (as always) everyone had to go to it. The new stage is very nice, although the random appearances of dogs in the background was a little distracting. Jay from Aquaneh, as usual, was master of ceremonies for final honors for tattered flags. At the first closing campfire of the summer, he seemed a little suprised at the dearth of veterans among the Scouters.

Saturday morning came, and the list of completes and partials was announced. The number of merit badges earned has increased with the consolidation of Mammals and Fish and Wildlife into the two-badge class "Fwammals". The other troops left, and some left quite early, so only our troop, and the troop with our number times three remained. The morning was devoted to the Junior Leader Training, which involved a larger number of scouts than I had anticipated. The session wnet well, for the most part, and sparked certain ideas for imporvement which I jotted down. The afternoon was split between swimming (in the pool, not at Romans Plunge) and CAPTURE THE FLAG! The teams were split, and the traditional boundaries had a slight modification due the troop times three. The bugle indicated the end of each round. Yes, some people contracted poison oak; the showering considerably delayed the start of the campfire, at which the Staff formed a Idol-like panel. Perhaps next I shall judge the Staff skit as they judge those of the patrols.

On Sunday morning, the Troop did not sleep in as long as they wished. The Scout's Own was slightly different - there were two speakers, one Scout, one parent. Several patrols used the time saved from an organized signup for Merit Badges to complete the cairn hikes from Saturday.

Monday saw a return to classes. It seems to me that the Scouts are busier with badges than when I was a Scout at Royaneh, a bit more ambitious. The biggest change, however, was this: for the first time, I was one of two adult leaders, not overshadowed by Joe Ehrman or Bruce.

Wednesday it rained, shocking the disbelievers who had never seen rain at Royaneh and though my description of a three-day rainy stretch the tall tale of a Troop alumnus. The classes were held in the halls and in the Chiefs' Lounge. Unfortunately, Wednesday was also Competition Night, held in the mess hall rather than the newly rebuilt Ralph W. Benson amphitheater. The rain had stopped, but it was too late to move back to the amphitheater. Most of the events were the same, and the competition was lively, but the judge of one of the events declared every contestant a winner. This did not sit well with the Troop, which felt that a proper competition has either a winner or a loser.

On Thursday, I held a Star conference for the First Class scouts who had passed our pre-Star conference test. That was an interesting experience. I asked the three candidates to plan various aspects of an overnight camping trip, given the landscape around Pioneers with which they were familiar.In retrospect, I should have said that they were leading a group, not merely going themselves. The trio put together a solid plan, I also held a Second Class conference for another Scout whose condition prevented him from attending Swimming MB. At this point, I no longer remember what the skit for Skit Night was.

On Friday night, of course, the Troop Feed happened. The Staff kept a lid on the number of camp counselor guests, and the food was delicious. The most memorable feature of this year's Troop Feed, however, was the post-prandial guitar sing-along which lasted far longer than we would usually allow. It was the sort of camaraderie you can't create.

Candlelight Concert for the Secours

On Monday, May 31st, I attended a Candlelight Concert celebrating the music ministry of Michael and Catherine Secour. Mrs. Secour was my instructor in the Children’s Choir when I was growing up in the (Episcopal, not Catholic) parish of St Mary the Virgin, and Mr. Secour was my instructor for the Youth Choir until my voice broke unseasonably early. The attendance for this musical festschrift was overwhelming, and underscored how much the ministry of the Secours had meant to so many people.


The program opened with an adaptation of Our Church’s One Foundation adapted for the 10th anniversary of the Secours’ ministry, thirteen years ago. I always experience mixed feelings about adaptations. The change of words to beloved hymns in order to reflect a secular occasion could be seen to violate propriety, yet such changes often indicate affection for the tune as well as the addressee. The tradition of applying new words to a well-known tune is an ancient tradition, whose use ranges from the cheekily disrespectful Carmina Burana (literally, “beer songs”) to the anti-Arian cathedral sit-in of St Ambrose. The third song was a similar adaptation of Psalm 95.


The song between these two was Tomorrow shall be my Dancing Day, sung by the Youth and Adult Choirs. It is a pleasant enough carol, but its rhythm seems a bit jerky and disjointed to me. This slight discomfort perhaps stems from my aural training in modern music, which favors a smoother melody, but it is also possible that this carol was composed with dancing in mind.
The fourth song was an anthem sung by the Children’s Choir. Whenever the Children’s Choir sings, the words are few and repeated many times. It would be an error to overwhelm the wee babes who compose the Children’s Choir with unnecessary complexities, but one of the advantages of this method (and here I speak as an alumnus) is the increase in memorization skills which a short melody with simple lyrics provide.


The fifth song was For the Beauty of the Earth, sung by the Youth and Adult Choirs. This is my favorite piece out of all that I have sung or heard at St Mary’s, and the one which traditionally Mr. Secour drafted the Thanksgiving returnees to sing - I do hope that whoever replaces him maintains that tradition! Much of what I feel in my heart about this song is ineffable - I genuinely mean this - and so this description is much shorter than one might expect for a song I hold in such affection.


The sixth song was Britten’s Festival Te Deum, with which I am not familiar. The performance was beautiful, but did not pull anything from the wellspring of my memory. UI should mention, however, that Margaret fille was the soloist.


The seventh song was ’Tis a Gift to be Simple, sung by the Children’s Choir. It was considerably more complex than most of the piece which they perform; the Shaker composers, however, were brilliant in their composition because they remembered the plebeian origin of singing and eschewed the complexity which so bewilders and intimidates many who wish to sing for joy rather than jingling coins. This song was a favorite when I attended “hymn-sing” at Cathedral School for Boys. “Hymn-sing” is a topic I may address in a later post.


The eighth song was Pie Jesu from Andrew Lloyd-Webber’s Requiem, which the Youth and Adult Choirs sung; the soloists were Margaret fille and Laura Secour. I have a hard time associating the producer of Cats and the Phantom of the Opera with the composition of a religious work. The ninth song also came from Requiem, and what impressed me most about that performance is how a skilled composer can take lyrics of only a few lines and stretch them over a significant period without dulling their impact by repetition.


The tenth song was Duet from Bach’s Cantata 78, sung by the Youth Choir and the Altos of the Adult Choir, which I half-remembered singing, although it seems likely that I sang it in English - my memory could be faulty here. The performance in case, however, was in German. Memorization of foreign lyrics is significantly harder than memorization of foreign speech, so a successful performance in a foreign language gives me much pleasure.


The eleventh and twelfth songs, both of which the Adult Choir sang, were, respectively, Bairstow’s I sat down under his shadow and Brahms’ How lovely are thy dwellings from A German Requiem, although the language of the latter was English rather than German. Neither of these selections was well-known to me. The final song was a hymn, Ye Holy Angels Bright, (allegedly) sung by everyone, although the Secours had chosen it.


The reception was so crowded that one could barely move and the ambient heat of the room was noticeable if someone were observant. The most notable event for me, however, was the boy who came up to me and introduced himself to me as the boy who had visited the troop the previous week and been so taken with it that he now has plans for joining the troop and coming to summer camp - the world in which I grew up is small and extremely interconnected.

Parks and Propositions

On Thursday, there was an article in the Chronicle (which I still read in the old way, in a café with a coffee) which said that the continuing state budget crisis might force many of the state parks to close their gates. The connection of this unprecedented action with the abject failure of the propositions on the recent ballot is clear enough, but these closures would cripple the outdoor activities of many Scout troops and districts.

On the one hand, I understand why the park service needs money, but I have learned the history of propositions in California and no longer can regard their current use as a substitute for responsible government action as acceptable or worthy of my support. The propositions and initiatives, as originally conceived, were an emergency measure for times of crisis, and had they remained restricted to such times, their use in the current crisis would conscionable. The transformation of the proposition and the initiative into substitutes for governance has not only allowed the government in Sacramento to evade responsibility, but also deprived Californians of a valuable tool by dulling the blade so that the axe is useless when it is most needed. In nineteenth century Portugal, one of the factors in the stall of the national economy (other than the exponential imbecility of the monarchy - read Royal Babylon: The Alarming History of European Royalty for more information) was the cumulative effect of pious gifts to the church; a third of the land in the entire country was the property of the church, the world’s longest-lived legal person . A similar process happens when pressure groups incite well-meaning citizens to vote for propositions and initiatives that create mandatory uses and set-asides; the individual propositions may or may not add up to an extensive sum, but the cumulative effect is to diminish steadily the amount of flexibility that the state government can practice.

The more immediate effect the closure would have on my way of life would be the sudden and catastrophic deprivation of camping and hiking sites for Troop 14 (my troop) and other troops around the Bay Area. I am sure that we will find new venues or new activities if the closure should happen, but the focus within Troop 14 on camping and hiking (since some troops have a different focus, and I do not presume to know the activities of all other troops in the Bay Area) makes it an area of particular concern.

The effects of closing the parks would be in the main undesirable. Modern buildings, unlike the sturdy stone structures of my academic background, are not designed to weather well without maintenance, and many years of repairing the troop’s traditional campsite at summer camp has taught me that it is more expensive to repair delayed maintenance than to maintain the structure in a regular manner. The population of the parks, too, would change. The absence of both rangers and visitors would encourage an influx of homeless (which might not be altogether bad, if they consumed some of the ubiquitous mule deer and provided a predatory niche whose lack has encouraged the explosive overpopulation) and pot-growers. I should be clear here: my concern in this essay is not the legality or legitimacy of the weed farmers, but rather the displacement of the native flora. I may blog on my thoughts on homeless and potheads on a separate occasion.

I find it exceedingly difficult to write conclusions, and this is my blog, so I feel no obligation to do so.

Good Turn 2009

This weekend, the troop traveled up to our summer camp to make repairs. Our usual ambition was curtailed by the lack of our resident volunteer contractor, since the council had moved the date of the activity well after the troop had worked out its own calendar. Although our troop started the tradition of the “Good Turn” as a practical and peculiar measure, the meme has flowered and spread. This is good for the camp, but does not seem so good for the ranger, whose burden, once relieved by the small scale effort, was restored unto him by its wider application. I accompanied the party which headed out to clear the fire road, a path which I find little time to walk when I serve at camp in the summer. It was a pleasant task, but fatal to much vegetation!


At the campfire, the quality was what I have come to expect, although I would value rehearsal and better acting over new material. The MC ran out of material early, and we received a drum recital. I was surprised that nobody had noticed that the Sherlock Holmes book was available, since those stories are always popular at camp. Sunday breakfast was fancier than I had anticipated, and the Scout’s Own as very short, but I admire the courage of the young man who shared his thoughts at the non-denominational “service”.