I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.


Last weekend, I had the occasion to journey to our old Scout Camp, T.L. Storer Scout Reservation in Barnstead, NH.

I have been going to this camp for 42 years now. I first set foot here at the age of 14 in July of 1980. For much of the 80s, I spent two weeks every summer doing scouting things.

There was a lengthy gap - my troop last camped here in 1989, then we moved to the now defunct Camp Onway in Raymond, NH for most of the 1990s. This camp pleased me, as my favourite uncle had attended here when he was a boy. At the time, he was the only Eagle Scout in the family. (since changed :-) )

I don't remember the year now, but sometime in the aughts, I had a chance to return to T.L. Storer for a service weekend with Scouting's honor society. (Order of the Arrow).

Remembering the way to camp after all those years, I spent most of the weekend in the kitchen, as I often do, but had the chance to walk around camp and remember.

My old troop campsites were fully intact and pretty much as I remembered them. But what pleased me was the trees. At the campfire circle, there are two big sentinel pines at either end, both standing guard over the lake. They are prominent in every photo ever taken at that site. Seeing my old friends once again says something of "home" to me.

I was away again for a while, but now during Javi's tenure as a scout, we returned to camp in 2013, and did five summers there as well as many weekends. By this time though, camp was a shell of its former self. Half of it was closed, campsites overgrown, and the program and equipment looking old and tired. Nevertheless - still my camp.

Until Covid.

Nevermind the lawsuit or the bankruptcy - Covid very nearly killed scouting in the United States. Formerly large and strong troops saw their numbers crash. Outdoor activities were curtailed, camps closed, and the usual business of teaching and training ground to a halt. Javier is a member of Eagle Class of 2019 - he passed his board of review in November, shortly before the world changed. I can't imagine how many scouts that would have Eagled in 2020 or 2021 had their chances torpedoed because of the global circumstances.

Our camp closed during that timespan. It was decided that our council could no longer run a summer camp program, so that last summer of 2019 was it. I did not go - Javier went to the World Jamboree instead, and I didn't have a camp experience in that last year.

But our camp is not a commercial property. It was deeded to the then Boston Scout Council by Theodore L. Storer in the 1950s as a permanent scout facility. Under the terms of the agreement, it cannot be sold, subdivided, or used for any other purpose except supporting the outdoor program of ScoutsBSA.

Last weekend, we had a Camporee on the site. The new ranger has been working to improve buildings and modernize some of the facilities. There is a thriving weekend and winter program, and new outreach to local scout units around the camp, which curiously never really camped at this facility in their own backyard.

I was only able to attend for 24 hours. Arriving at camp, I poked my head in the dining hall, then was wandering around camp trying to find my unit.

I walked past the campfire circle, and there I died. They're gone. The magnificent sentinel pines that had spoken to me since my youth had been cut down. The campfire circle itself was all torn up - the benches and fencing all gone, just an empty husk.

My old campsite was abandoned and overgrown, not having seen any activity in three years. Part of the trail to the site was blocked, and that section of camp had been logged.

It's been forty years. I suppose everything must die at some point, including inanimate objects and places....but this one personally hurt me.

As I opined on the blog earlier this week - at least Javier and I got to go for a few years and have those same experiences at the same place at the same time in our lives. A bond that only Scout parents and their children can share.