And so it is done. Javi returned from the World Jamboree last night, his last great act as a youth member of ScoutsBSA.

I am sad, and indeed bitterly disappointed, that I did not get to share it with him.


But nevertheless – it is over. Javi spent the last ten days in a small hamlet of West Virginia called “Glen Jean”, home to the Summit Bechtel Reserve. Around 65,000 Scouts and Scouters descended on Appalachia for the 24th World Scout Jamboree.

As the host nation, about a third of those scouts were from these United States. They have immersed themselves in global culture, meeting people from all over, and learning different languages, cultures, food, and religion.

The impact of such an event is incalculable. The tiniest percentage of youth on the verge of adulthood in this country have been exposed to something far greater than their little corner of the country. The long-term results of this event can never be determined. Some of those youth will go home and re-live the memories for the rest of their lives, but some of them may be inspired to greater heights by what they have experienced these last few days.

For the rest of the world, it’s just as incalculable. Thousands of youth and adults came to this country with their pre-conceived notions of what life is like in the United States under “President” Trump. I hope they will take back to their countries that the next generation is far different from what they read in the papers.

As I write this, Javi turns 18 in just 6 days. He has that long to hunt down a few signatures, polish his final report, and hand-deliver it to the District Advancement Chairman in nearby Arlington – and then Javi will be an Eagle Scout.

Less than 2% of all youth who join ScoutsBSA achieve that exalted rank; he’ll be in some exclusive company.

I don’t know what will become of him as he leaves his childhood behind. He’s already better positioned than the vast majority of 18-year-olds heading for college this fall, simply by virtue of the life experiences he has had over the last 7 years in a Scout Uniform.

Sometime later this fall, Javier and I will don our uniforms and journey to Wyoming Cemetery in Melrose, MA. It is the final resting place of my Great-Uncle Ray Moore, the only other member of our vast family to be an Eagle Scout.

You may well remember that we buried my uncle on the day I was diagnosed with cancer; I feel we have been inextricably linked since that time. I want us to tell him in-person what Javi has achieved.

This past week (July 29) was the 112th anniversary of the very first Scout Camp on Brownsea Island (UK) organized and run by Lord Baden-Powell himself. The things he invented more than a century ago to serve the youth of the British Empire seem even more imperative today.