Tag: Scouting

Pomegranate — Book 4

Marc enjoyed his drinks with Jen. She was as pretty and nutty as ever. Just the way he liked his ladies. They spent about two hours in the bar, kissed on the lips, and went to their respective train stations.

They didn’t make plans to see each other again. But knowing in due time they would. That’s how it goes. He hopped on the arriving E subway and headed back to Forest Hills. Little did he know the woman who was following him earlier was in the next car. She walked between the cars and sat several seats away from where he was standing. Marc was not drunk. He was just calm and happy that he spent time with Jen.

The woman was dressed in all black — black running pants, a black athletic skirt and a long-sleeved black tee shirt. She wore red lipstick, black nail polish, and had a chamsah chain dangling from her neck. She’s in great shape. Her ear buds was in her ears and was listening to Bauhaus.

Marc got off the train and so did the Goth chic. Marc hiked over to Duane-Reade to pick up some stuff. For a guy who orders most of his stuff online, he spends way too much time in stores.

He was moseying down 108 Street. Alana, the girl who has been tracking him was not far behind. She slowed down for a moment or two. Marc also stopped. He was paranoid. Not alcohol. Jen.

He sensed he was being followed. He knew people might catch onto him eventually. But he was doing good things. He heard Alana’s footsteps getting closer. He turned around and there she was. Her gorgeous green eyes with black eyeliner and perfect body were approaching him.

“Alana Elias?”

“So you remember me?”

“Of course.”

“I always liked you, Marc. I know we played a little. Remember when were both always dressed in all black? I know you still do.”

“Yeah. We had some good times.”

“They were limited. Hell, I refused to admit it. But I even enjoyed when we cut few days of college and went to that camp you call your temple. I complained. But thinking back those two or three days in the middle of nowhere and swimming in the lake were the best for me.”

“I loved our bathing suits, ha, ha…”

“I bet you did. But you burned me. I really liked you.”

“I burned you? Nah. You were always talking about other guys. I asked you not to.”

“Because I’m just a little daffy. But I’m better now. And I will have you. “

Her eyes turned blood red.

“Maybe you will.”

She looked so hot.

“Are you still lighting candles on Friday nights? “

“Yes. But I have my vices. Sometimes I light black candles or red ones. Sometimes I need to play Joy Division, as I’m lighting and keep listening. How about your vices?”

“Well yeah, I try but I have them. When the Yankees play well, Friday night and the boys from ‘da Bronx are needed. Sometimes a Brennan & Carr roast beef sandwich is needed. We all have issues.”

Marc smiled, waved goodbye, and started walking down the block. He loved her. But knows she’s a head case. So is Jen. But Alana is tougher to handle. They grew up together. As he was walking, Alana yelled at him for going. She started to scream. He didn’t want to fight.

She caught up to him and grabbed him by the neck. She then started kissing him. She was slapping him, too. He threw her down. She hit the ground hard. But bounced up so fast that he didn’t even see what was coming next.

Her tan face turned red. Her hair was flying. Her green eyes were blood red. Her toned arms wound up like a pitcher. She waved them a few times. She gritted her teeth. Alana’s legs stomped down. Marc was not sure what to do. He didn’t want to unleash his powers on her. He didn’t trust she wouldn’t put onto YouTube. He tried to back up. As he did she pitched several bright red enlarged apples. They flew at a high speed. One of them hit him right in the jaw.

He retaliated. His eyes bulged and he looked straight at her face. He unleashed a few pomegranates laced in honey. The two of them volleyed their weapons back and forth for several minutes. They were in incredible form. If only they were partners. Unlikely.

Marc was about to release barley as an apple smacked him the head and broke open. Apple seeds infiltrated into his mouth, nose, and eyes. He was momentarily blind. Alana didn’t stop.

Marc shot out the barley and stuck her hands together with honey. She looked at him and took a breath.

“This is just for starters, Marc my boy. I’m sure our paths will cross again shortly.”

She walked off. Marc just stood there.

Farewell: Larry Leshay and other scouting greats

By Mitchell Slepian

Yesterday, I had the sad occasion to attend the memorial service for a dear friend and mentor “Scouuuut” Larry Leshay.  I first met Larry during the summer of 1983 when I went up to Chappy Hill, Ten Mile River Scout Camps (TMR). My parents drove me up to camp for the first time. We pulled into Kunatah and were given permission to drive on the dirt road over to Chappy.

We climbed muddy steps and went into the “Palace,” our camp’s office. There was Larry sitting at his desk with the camp bank and his Smith-Corona typewriter.  I made the rounds of the first day of camp and went to sleep. Actually, I didn’t sleep. I never slept in camp.

The next morning, I woke up much earlier than wakeup call and sat at the picnic table adjacent to the Palace and Larry’s leanto (a three walled structure with screening on the front that served as our sleeping quarters).  Larry was coming back from his morning shower. He saw me and said what are you doing here? I said, I got up early and came here. He decided I was a vampire.  And let the other scouuuts know.  From that morning on, I was Chappy’s vampire. That name stuck with me during my entire TMR experience.  Last summer, at the reunion weekend, people were talking about the day I became a vampire.

Under Larry’s leadership, I spent the best years of my life on the Hill. I became a patrol leader, senior patrol leader and was on staff for two years.  Larry and I had many adventures.  During my early years in camp, I earned several merit badges from him.  One winter, I mailed him merit badge work. I hand wrote it.  Those were the days before everyone had a printer or could email it. I didn’t have a typewriter as 12 or 13 year-old. My penmanship is poor. Up until the day we lost Larry, he still reminded me of the struggle he went through to read my work. He said I understood the badge requirements but it took him days to figure out my writing.

Every Saturday, we would swim in the Delaware and Ten Mile Rivers.  Most of us would hike to and from the rivers. Larry always got a ride in the “Whomobile” or whatever beat up auto served as the camp car.  Once Larry got back to the site, we would often stroll down to Rock Lake and I would paddle him around in a canoe.

Eventually, I was one of the people driving him around for the camp food pick-ups at the Kunatah or headquarters dining halls or the rides out to Peck’s and other stores. One day in the “Truckster,” a beat up blue station wagon, I got so lost. We wound up in Hawley, along the Lackawaxen River in Wayne County, Pennsylvania.  We laughed about that trip forever.

One of the finer things about Larry was his graciousness and love of his scouts or “little funkys” (he used to broadcast a weekly or daily show “Uncle Funky”).  I used to play Meteu in the Order of the Arrow ceremonies. So did he.  I did many ceremonies in TMR.  Sometimes older scouters would stand the during the ceremonies with the scripts and penlights to see how the kids playing the roles were doing. Then after the ceremony, they’d tell you what mistakes you made. This infuriated Larry.  None of these people ever did a ceremony and in most cases that was the first time they ever looked the script.  Larry always let us know that. And let the kids know how well they did.

Our last summer was 1988, the OA’s highest honor, the Vigil was bestowed upon me three weeks before camp started.  Every Wednesday night was OA night. We wore our sashes to the dining hall.  Troops would line up and they would ask all of the Vigil members to march in first. There weren’t many.  One night it was only Larry and me. Everyone knew being Vigil meant the world to me. Much more than being Eagle.  Of course, Larry helped me reach Eagle.  They asked all the Vigil members to walk in. I started walking and realized I was alone. Larry hid in the back with his sash.  He knew what it meant to me to be the only Vigil to enter when they called us.

That summer ended a few weeks later. But our friendship went on to the end.  I will always have him in my thoughts.

Larry’s passing leaves a huge hole in my soul. I feel like we have an empty bucket.  A little more than three years ago, Dr. Karl Bernstein, Larry’s closest friend passed away. Karl was TMR. In 2016, Staten Island Scouter Marty Poller left us. Marty, a Meteu taught me the role and how to build the fire. He was Aqeuhongian Lodge. His guidance when I was chief is immeasurable.

My dad passed away shortly before these great scouts.  Of course, he played a monumental role in my scouting career. He had a similar scouting history.

I feel empty. I cling so much to my childhood. I cherish the learning, love and fun times I had with all of them. Until we meet again. Keep the fire burning.