TMR – Mitchell's thoughts, photos, etc.

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.

Marc sinks into a depression

Marc was thrilled to see the Woodsman. He knows his words speak many truths. Yet Marc was so depressed. Here he was in his childhood home and now it was just barren land.

Alana put her arms around him. She felt his pain. She knows as brutal and cold as his, he will always crumble when things happen to his home. She remembered when they tore down the original Yankee Stadium. He went there and prayed at its ruins. Whenever he visits the new Stadium, he walks the park’s grounds where the House that Ruth Built sat.

In his mind, Marc was contemplating his next course of action. Most important, he had to do something that would make the Woodsman proud. He walked the trails up to a window that is quite picturesque. He took in the view and traveled a little further toward a cliff. Here were the ruins of former cabins, a dining hall and a latrine. It has been a long process, but this place has been made smaller and smaller through the years.

His iPhone buzzed. It was Anat. She wanted to know how he was doing. Alana called her. It’s amazing how the three of them became friends after all the fights they had. She said Jay was still bothering her and Jerry, who is getting stronger.

Marc was pleased. He knew he’d have to provide security at her wedding. Of course, Jen would be there. At this point, he didn’t care. Marc was happy Jen was doing well. He and Alana would go on till the end of time. Probably longer.

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.