Right, wrong, or indifferent, I'm sitting on a boat load of crapola belonging to one of my favorite musicians, so I can really relate here. I have no less than 4-5 of those huge plastic storage containers in the garage full of High School memorabilia, camp stuff, and an assortment of odds and ends of things seemingly too precious to let go of, but that MUST be saved. I refer to this as "Yunk"--your junk. The worst part is, I remember saying all the same garbage to my mom about why I couldn't store my stuff. Funny how life repeats itself. Maybe I'll just sit tight for Scarletta to hit it big, and then threaten to auction off a few mementos.
A wonderful friend of ours is extremely ill, and last night, Bruce and I were talking about what a great guy he is. His name is Mark Wood, and he was Benji's Scout Master way back when. He is the funniest, nicest, best guy you could ever hope to know. To say this guy is laid back is an understatement. He just takes life as it comes and doesn't get in a flap over much. In tribute to him, I'll pass on the story Bruce told me this morning. To set the scene here's the scoop: Scout Camp at Lake Texoma, in July, hotter than hell, and we had to make Benji go. (All of this was in pursuit of Benji getting his Eagle Scout badge.)
Our troops dad's were requested to sign up to come out and spend a day or two, helping Mark get the boys through earning multiple merit badges, so as to maximize the time spent there. Bruce spent two days out there helping Mark, and said it was beyond hilarious. Hot, but hilarious. It seems on one particular morning, there was a flag ceremony first thing, before breakfast, and troops were to march up the hill to the assigned meeting spot for the ceremonby. Side bar : to know the members of Benji's troop and their total hang looseness, the very idea of marching is just incomprehensible.
OK...here comes our troop. Floppy t-shirts, flip flops, bed head, barely awake, kicking cow pies as they came--not exactly what you'd call marching. Here are the other troops: starched, in full scout gear, green scout socks up to their knees, kerchiefs, spit shiny, and holding flags. Bruce said he and Mark were struggling to breathe, they were laughing so hard, and even the boys knew they looked like the stoner Scout Troop, and loved it. Hey...if that's how you roll, embrace it.