The Royaneh Raccoons

When Dad was Scout master and I was still too young to attend Boy Scouts, I had the pleasure of going to two days of Scout Summer Camp as Dad’s guest. Because I was the Scoutmaster’s son, none of the older boys ever teased me and, to be honest, they were all quite nice to me. This made me feel great.

At school, I did not have too many friends. I was small, skinny, and less than coordinated when it came to sports. Sports was the key social outlet for a young boy. So, I was either excluded or purposely excluded myself. Of course, it didn't help being pigeon toed either. Anything that makes you different than others leads to uncomfortable social ostracism.

But scout camp was different. There I was included. I mattered. No one made fun of me. So I really looked forward to going there with Dad.

Frank Heiss and Scouting: The Golden Age – Part I: The Beginning

Times were different in the 1960s and 1970s. America was brushing off the façade of the 1950s where life was seen through a glass darkly. The world of Leave to Beaver, The Dick Van Dyke Show, and the simplicity of Lassie was over.

These weekly television classics gave way to The Brady Bunch, The Partridge Family, and All in the Family.

Dad is alone with the kids!

A long time ago, I think I was about 7 or 8, my Mom went to a Relief Society Enrichment Night and left us children alone with Dad. We were having a grand old time, eating popcorn for dinner and jumping on the trampoline in the backyard. We even convinced Dad to join us on the Trampoline. I believe that Andrew was inside doing dishes but I have no memory where everyone else was.

As Dad and I were jumping on the trampoline he started to see if he could interrupt my bounce. Well, needless to say, it worked and if I remember right I was bounced off the trampoline and my arm got caught in the bar. I started screaming and crying. Dad flew off the trampoline and called for Andrew to bring a blanket to wrap my arm in.

Dad then rushed me to the Instacare or something close to that since I don't remember an actual E.R. This was a time before cell phones so Mom had no idea that I was hurt yet. While waiting for the Doctor to see me a nurse came out to write down what happened. They asked my Dad and I the same questions but I, being the emotional wreck that I was, told the nurse flat out that "My Dad broke my arm". Dad looked at me with a little panic in his eyes and clarified that I fell of the trampoline and it broke. After she finished asking the questions they took me back for an x-ray. My arm was indeed broken.

They didn't put my cast on until I think the next day. They wrapped my arm with a splint and sent me home. When we got home, Mom wasn't home yet so Dad let me sleep in the guest bedroom. I think I remember Mom coming home and her looking in on me and then talking to Dad to find out what happened. I know that she was there when the doctor set my arm and put the cast on it. But to this day I still say that my Dad broke my arm.