Ten Mile River – Mitchell's thoughts, photos, etc.

AI and Transcript Creation

For those of you who read my prior AI posts, “The Happiness and Toils and Tribulations of AI” and “What Does AI Really Know About You,”I thank you. Now it’s time to jump into how well it does when it comes to making transcripts when you upload videos to YouTube.

A few days ago, as chairman of the Ten Mile River Scout Museum, I made a few presentations at our annual Alumni Weekend. One was to present a tile in honor of a deceased Scouter who made an impact on hundreds of youths. The other was the introduction of my board of trustees. Both were recorded on someone’s iPhone.

We uploaded the videos to YouTube and transcripts were created. In the first video, “August 8, 2026: TMR Wall of Fame Induction of John D’Arcy,” the only speaker was me. In the second, “August 8, 2026: Presentation of Museum Trustees*,” each of my trustees introduced themselves. We do a lot of work and have fun. We don’t take ourselves too seriously. Most of us have been friends for decades and love to joke around.

I was told by the person who recorded the videos that he placed them on YouTube. I was excited and took a look. YouTube automatically created transcripts. I was aghast when I saw the transcripts. Yes, it got some things right. But it misspelled many things. Before alerting me that it was live, it should have been checked. But it is not the end of the world.

I don’t think YouTube’s AI understands Brooklyn. Everyone in the video is originally from NYC. Many are from Brooklyn. However, as far as the other boroughs, YouTube doesn’t speak that either.

Several of our camps have Native American names. One of our now-shuttered camps was Nianque. One of our trustees said he started over sixty years ago in that camp. The transcript said, “Camp Miami.” We’ve all been there. Miami and a Scout camp in the middle of Narrowsburg are way different. Personally, I like my camp better. But have had many adventures in Miami. It spelled many first and last names wrong, as well as the titles.

We toyed around with editing the transcript. But it was time-consuming and, for some reason, more difficult on Macs v. Windows-based computers. Why? Who knows? You’d think it’d be easier and quicker on a Mac. Everything is. What did we do? We deleted them and uploaded again without transcripts.

Am I upset? Not at all. As a matter of fact, I am pleased. This was a great learning exercise. It is fantastic that AI is being put to work to create transcripts. They look nice and are perfectly placed at the bottom of the video. This taught us that you always need to check and verify. I do not doubt that as we move forward, this will get better. My other work with AI tools has proven that. We are on a learning curve, and we are learning, learning a lot.

*- These are the final videos.

My Pets. Sort of.

I Wonder How Jumper and Oscar Are Doing

Let me set the record straight oter than a few goldfish, I have never had a pet. When I was about nine, a stray dog was wandering my block. It was friendly and let me pet it. Sorry, I do not know if it was a boy or girl. So, I will not say, “he sat by me.” The dog did. I wanted to keep it. I was not allowed. I am allergic to cats and horses. Dogs don’t bother me. But maybe other family members are allergic to them.

Around the same time I wasn’t allowed to keep the dog, I caught a frog at William H. Pouch Scout Camp (Pouch), Staten Island, NY. I went to the camp’s Cub Scout Camp for two summers. I loved it. One afternoon, I caught a frog near Lake Ohrbach. I named it Jumper. I placed my new friend in a small, water-filled cup and held it tightly during my bus ride home. I was so proud when I walked into the house and showed Mom Jumper. She was not happy.

A block or so away are the Woods of Arden, approximately 200 acres of protected green space. I was told, or more likely ordered, to bring Jumper to the Arden Woods. Following orders, I did. I walked in and set him free. I am still shocked I was allowed to go alone. Alas, I did. I let the frog out of my hands, and it jumped into a stream. I am sure it was confused and happy. Jumper was taken out of its former home at Pouch. It had to get used to a new environment. But it was probably happy it was back in living quarters it understood. I am sure it grasped living in a stream is better than it would have been in my living room.

After Pouch, I spent two summers at another day camp. Then I made it to Chappegat Hill, Ten Mile River Scout Camps (TMR), Narrowsburg, NY. I couldn’t wait to go. Other than many weekend overnights and a camping trip or two with dad at Otter Lake, East Stroudsburg, PA, my stay here would be my longest time away from home.

I made many new friends. One friend I didn’t expect to make was Oscar. He was our pet skunk. He was white. I am not sure if he was albino white or just white. We called him our albino white skunk. We never got close enough to inspect whether he really was. But we often saw him walking around the side of our camp’s hill. There are many stories about that section. Old folklore has it that one kid is still cleaning the side of the hill. One day after a BBQ, he made a mess of it, and we made him clean it up. We teased him about it for years after. Still do.

Skunks mostly come out at night or around dawn to look for food. I was the camp’s vampire. I was usually up all night. I got to watch him regularly. I was always the first one up. I rarely slept. That hasn’t changed.

Over the last few days, I have been thinking about Jumper and Oscar. I wonder if they are still roaming around their living quarters. I know what the reality probably is. But I still believe that Jumper is jumping around the Woods of Arden.

Sadly, Chappegat was shuttered in 1988. Its host camp, Kunatah, is being sold. I feel bad for Oscar. I am sure he’s still roaming the side of our hill. Sadly, it has grown in. He is probably looking for us.

Rock Lake in Kunatah, Ten Mile River Scout Camps

Being Rejected When Offering to Volunteer

By Mitchell Slepian

I volunteer for many organizations. I am the chairman of the Ten Mile River Scout Camps Museum. I was vice president of my co-op’s board and built the PR function for American Friends of ELEM, which now has a professional team.

When I volunteered on many political campaigns, I helped run the campaign office. We lived in it. It was fun. We won some. We lost fun. We ate too much junk food. But had a lot of good pizza. Nothing’s better.

I belong to most of NYC’s museums. A few weeks ago, one of them sent an email seeking volunteers for a specific program. I was available during the times they were hoping for people to work and had done some of the work they wanted you to do. I sent an email offering my time.

Weeks went by, and I thought they had forgotten about me. Two days ago, I got an email from them saying that many people had applied and that they could not accommodate everyone. Therefore, they picked the first batch of emails. They thanked us and said if you’re still interested in volunteering to email their volunteer coordinator. I did.

She responded very quickly and told me they didn’t have any opportunities for me. They’d keep my note on file. I learned very young never to turn away a volunteer. In all of the groups I have worked with, we always found work for people to do.

Just last week, I assisted in a volunteer work effort. We had about 10 people packing up donated items for a future museum display. Some people who came have mobility issues, and some are too old to lug boxes up and down a few flights of stairs. Their knees would go out. Did we tell them not to work? Not at all. We found so much constructive work for them to do that they were busy for hours. We fed everyone. We had many food options.

We accomplished a lot over about 4 or 5 hours. The next step is to sort through what we packed and see what we will keep. A few of us already started and filled many trash bags.

The great thing was that we all worked together. We got the job done, and no one was turned away. The entire group will be back for the next volunteer session. Never turn away a volunteer.

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.

Camp Memories

By Mitchell Slepian

BlowhornNew Type Layer copy — Blowhorn Rock, Chappy

Campfire

I recently spent five days in the place I called home as a teenager – Ten Mile River Scout Camps. It was a phenomenal experience. I saw people I haven’t since the 80s.

We went to the remains of our favorite sites: Chappegat Hill, Kunatah, Picture Window, and Indian Cliffs. I can safely say for myself and the rest of the gang I was with, those sites will always be holy to us. Most of them are no longer operational. Being there flashed us back to our youth. That’s when the trails were teeming with scouts climbing the trail to Eagle.

While in camp, I spoke to current staff and campers. I relayed what we did. Bear in mind, this is when the whole world was not striving to be 100 percent politically correct. We were boys being boys. We wore our scout uniforms, Champion tee and sweatshirts, OP shorts, Gotchas, and other 80s fashion. We blasted Squeeze’s “Pulling Mussel’s from the Shell” out of our leantos. If we won our competitions, earned our merit badges we got to go to Carousel Park, Beach Lake, Pa. and ride go karts and dune buggies. We got to eat the “red sauce” in the now closed El Monaco’s, White Lake, N.Y.

We gave each other nicknames. They were based on how we looked, acted, and smelled. Some kids never showered. I’m sure that’s still the case. We roughed it. We threw each other out of canoes. No one ever got hurt. We all knew how to swim. In the middle of the night, we raided each other. We had food fights.

We had a five-seater tip pan latrine (the willy). Everyone sat down together to go. We played baseball in the willy. Scoring was based on what we produced… We took ice cold showers. That’s until we “housed” a hot water heater from an abandoned site. We ate gross camp food. Thankfully they still do.

Kids that misbehaved in the dining hall were “nuked”. They had to scrub the place after the meal or wash pots when we concluded our weekend BBQs. Some scouts spent all Saturday night at the willy’s sink scrubbing. As a camper and staff member, I dished out and suffered the punishment.

On our canoe trips, as we paddled down the Delaware River, we loaded up our canoes with dead fish. At different points, we bashed each other over the head with the fish. I still long for a dead fish fight.

While I was sitting in the new Keowa Dining Hall, I spoke about these memories with those around me. Their jaws dropped wide open. No one could believe me. Some were grossed out. I guess dead fish fights and old school willys don’t appeal to all. These days, the camp has flush toilets and traditional showers. I’ve heard their canoe trips are more traditional.

These days, the scouts have fun. Lots of fun. It is a little different. But it is their fun. They are creating memories. They are soaring to the rank of Eagle Scout. Whose memories are the best? That is in the eye of the beholder. One day, these scouts will come to alumni events and tell their stories to the young staff and scouts. I’m sure things will have changed during that course of time. How much? Time will tell.