Mrs. Rogers

Everyone knows Mr. Rogers, that paragon of virtue, kindness, gentleness goodness and love, brought into our homes via PBS back in the day.

Let me introduce you to MRS. Rogers, who was Mr. Rogers's equal in virtue, with her own brand of love and service.  She was not in any way related to the well-known and loved Mr. Rogers; she had her own Mr. Rogers, sans a cardigan sweater, who was a close second to PBS's wonderful version.

Mrs. Rogers  was my Brownie and Girl Scout leader for 9 years.  She and Reva Sims formed Troop 2259 in 1960 when her daughter Patty reached first grade.  Through the grapevine my Mom heard about this brand new Brownie troop forming, and I got in on the ground floor, so to speak.  Patty was an only child, adopted in fact, and Mrs. R. was able to put all of her energy into our troop, for Patty's sake yes, but I know she believed in us all.   Mrs. R. was 100% committed, so our troop became the most active in the area.  Weekly meetings, serving in schools, churches and communities, assisting individuals in their needs, camping, crafting, cooking, horse-back riding, personal grooming lessons, galloping dinners at holiday time, father-daughter and mother-daughter fun.  You name it, we did it.

Mrs. R. has been gone for a while but her legacy lives on.  I wholeheartedly know this due to the degree my own life was enriched by her providing activities that developed me into a more competent, better person than would have happened naturally.  A few years ago Patty traced via Facebook, the former members of Troop 2259 and invited us all to the page where she posted photographs of those good ol' days.   And then this summer, Patty was living temporarily in Bend, a town 3 hours away from me.  I spent a long, delightful afternoon with her in Bend discussing her mother and our troop.  We hadn't seen each other in over 42 years.

Patty let me in on a few secrets about Mrs. Rogers that I couldn't have guessed.  Most laughable was her perfectionism.  Our troop always made a crafty gift for our parents at holiday time, and for Mother's and Father's Day.  I thought the crafts were swell, and that our parents would be giddy as all get-out to receive them.  What I didn't know is that Mrs. R. in her private time engaged in do-overs.  If a girl's craft was shoddy or mediocre, she would "fix" it before it was taken home as a gift.  Who knew?

Mr. Rogers was involved in our overnight camp activities.  One time I discovered rattle snakes living near our tents.  Armed with a shovel and the help of a few others, he made short work of that nasty serpent den.  He was a quiet, kind, helpful man.

As I sit here looking at Mrs. Rogers's photo, tears come to my eyes.  I loved her and am grateful she dedicated herself to building up the next generation of girls.  We all turned out pretty good!

Some special memories about Troop 2259: 

My first overnight experience away from home was a Brownie campout at Chatsworth Park.  Our family did not own a sleeping bag until this event required us to buy one.  It was Army green on the outside, with a flannel brown/red/green hounds-tooth on the inside.  We slept under the stars.

Our troop wrote and visited Kim L., one of our troop members, who was confined at Olive View Sanitarium for asthma.

Some of us worked with younger children at the elementary school who had large motor problems (my photo was in the paper for this).

Mrs. Rogers organized a Brownie Mother's Day Tea, which got my photo with Mom in the Valley Green Sheet Newspaper.  Mrs. Rogers must have cultivated reporter Polly Spain as a contact at the newspaper; Polly wrote regular articles about our troop.

Brownie Charm School: Mrs. N., the mother of one of the girls, educated us in personal grooming, manners, and charm.  We learned to walk with books on our heads, do manicures, make proper introductions, etc.

At the end of every meeting we held hands and sang, "Good might Brownies, good night Brownies, good night Brownies, we'll see you again next week!."   We would twist our arms around, break the circle and head for home.  Other songs we sang often were "Make new friends, but keep the old; one is silver and the other gold."   And the well known, "Day Is Done."  We sang the lively folk song "Titanic" ("Oh it was sad, oh it was sad . . .") until the Girl Scout Council said we couldn't anymore.  Survivors of the Titanic could be hurt or even traumatized by it.

Girl Scout camp was the best.   Hollywoodland, Camp Lakota, and Camp Aventura are the places I remember.  My own family didn't camp, and I thrilled at the treat of sleeping in a tent, cooking outdoors, and exploring the wilderness.

Badges.  As we completed each theme we were awarded the badge for it.  My sash was quite full.  I loved achieving each one of those.  Wish I had my sash now.



 

Ooops!

For 3.5 years (until this past June) I was a Cub Scout Bear den leader.  I loved it, and enjoyed taking the boys on monthly field trips, especially the historic ones.  The photo below shows the Imbrie House, which is a couple of miles from where we all live. It was build about 1866 and housed the Imbrie family for over 100 years, before it was converted into a restaurant. The Cubs are always speechless when they are shown the "birth and death room," a long narrow room on the north side of the house where, surprise, family members were brought into and led out of this world.

About 20 years ago the McMenniman brothers bought the place; if you're not from here you haven't heard of them. They buy up old schools, houses, and other historic buildings (sometimes saving them from the wrecking ball) and convert them into restaurants, pubs, guesthouses. When they bought the Imbrie place it was in reasonable condition but not large enough to be a successful restaurant venture, so they built a large building behind the house for that purpose (it has an 1800s appearance). There was also an octagonal barn on the property that was in a sad state of disrepair. They fixed it up nice for use for parties and wedding receptions. They created beautiful grounds that connect all the different buildings.

One structure they built new is the brewery. Not being a drinker, I didn't even know they had one, until this one day with the Cubs when we opened the door of what I thought was another barn. And voila! There was the brewmaster with his contraption going full steam. Of course the boys could not go inside, but the brewmaster invited them to watch, and then he gave them very complete lessons on how to brew beer. It was rather amusing, because not only were they wiggly 9 year-old boys, but they were wiggly 9 year-old Mormon boys . . . who now know how to brew beer.

my grandson on the left and his Cub Scout den

The Yeomen

Every year Cub Scout Day Camp has a theme, and within that, each den is assigned a pertinent name.  I'm a den leader so every spring I await the announcement to see what design of den flag and doodads we're going to have to come up with for that really fun week at Camp Ireland.

2012 was a medieval theme, so dens were given names such as knights, pages, archers, etc., one name per alphabet letter.  This year we were the letter Y--The Yeomen.  Hmmmmm.  I didn't really know what a yeoman was (except that my Dad was Yeoman 2nd class in the US Navy, but that had little to do with the medieval era), and it sounded like a dorky dud.  I didn't want the boys to feel second class at day camp next to all those cool knights and archers and merrymen, like Robin Hood:

Then I discovered that "Robin Hood" was actually  a yeoman--YAY!!  He would have been a small landholder trained in using weapons, bound to protect his lord's estate.  Cool after all!

We made this neat banner for the boys to carry into camp every day:

At Ross I found a big fat curtain tassle to hang on the edge of the banner, for an extra touch of class.  That's why these boys are smiling on their way to Camp Ireland.

And oh, you can't tell from these photos but those green nametags hanging around their necks are yeoman's hats, like Robin Hood's head gear!

A Funeral, a Wedding, and a Scout Meeting

On Friday I attended 3 very divergent events.  All three were attended by some of the same people.

The first was the heartbreaking funeral of a young mother who died of cancer.  We stood at the grave site under dark skies.  The cold wind and rain seemed fitting until the service began.  The theme repeated by several speakers and prayers was the hope and gift of the resurrection.  The wonderful woman secure in the casket, whose physical self was wracked by cancer, will again be with her husband and baby.  The mood transformed giving way to optimism and hope in spite of the gloomy skies.

The wedding reception (wedding had occurred a few days before in Utah) was extra joyous because this nice young man in his 30s finally found a bride.  His family is thrilled.  The mother of the groom is the best friend of the mother-in-law of the deceased mentioned above.  Her gladness is tempered by her friend's grief.

I left the reception to zip over to Cub Scout Pack Meeting.  My den was responsible for the flag ceremony, which we had not practiced.  We pulled it together.  The awards were given including the Whittling Chip card for two of the boys, one of whom specifically requested we earn it because he loves anything to do with knives or swords.  Two weeks ago at den meeting we spent a pleasant afternoon on the church front lawn carving shapes out of Ivory soap.

 

Life is a patchwork quilt.   Some patches are dark, dreary and mournful, others are eye-catchingly beautiful, and still others take their place quietly, a bridge between the two.   Sew them all together and you have a beautiful work of art.