Haunted forest was a disaster, very uncoordinated and unprofessional. Workers at park were not allowing drop offs to camp site and side gates were allowing others to sneak in. It goes to show following orders does not always pay off. Troop leaders were extremely uncoordinated and nothing was planned prior to arrival so parents were asked to move their tent sites more than twice. I have never attended such a disreputable event. At local troop meetings we rarely go by the agenda given out at the beginning of the year and camping locations are changed leaving parents to find out the week before a camping trip, for those that have split custody of their children it makes it very difficult to schedule. I think the "coordinators" for each troop should be reviewed by someone higher up so they can be taught how to effectively coordinate and or manage such events.

After three years of Cub Scouts, my parents insisted that I join Boy Scouts. My parents believed that commitments such as required by Scouting were both mandatory and unbreakable, and to consider any alternative was "quitting." So I dutifully became a Tenderfoot Scout. I believed that the very safe, insular, even cozy environment of the Cub Scout den would be duplicated in the troop, primarily because the family who hosted the den were the most active also in the troop (as to its adult administration). Boy, was I wrong.

The first thing I noticed was a obvious disconnect between things *said* and things *done.* Supposedly, wearing the full uniform to each meeting was encouraged, if not required. (At home, all such encouragements were considered requirements, and my parents insisted I wear the full uniform.) During Troop meetings, I was often covertly, and sometimes openly, made fun of for wearing the uniform. At the Patrol level, and outside the hearing of the adult leadership, wearing the uniform was treated as "sissified."

There was also what I could consider, now, a limited, but ultimately terrifying, form of physical abuse that seemed to be encouraged by the leadership. We often played a game in which some kind of stuff rag (a sock?) was thrown at a person and, I forget the exact rules, but the last person who be hit by the stuffed rag had to go "into the mill." The mill was a line formed by scouts, standing, but with their legs spread, so that a person could crawl down the line between their legs. During the crawl, the victim was slapped and pummeled by the standing scouts and, in our troop, that line was very long. What became even more frightening was that I took satisfaction and relief when my closest friend, and not I, was the unfortunate loser of the game. We were both the awkward, clumsy kids who could not run as fast, or hike as long, or set up a ten as well as the others---and for this we were often verbally abused.

I had no one to turn to because, at home, my parents so idolized the leadership that they would have accused me of, and punished me for, lying. The scouting leadership seemed to favor the older and senior scouts. Monday nights became a weekly experience of terror for me---terror of being embarrassed about wearing the uniform, terror that I might be the loser in a game, terror of being addressed with profanity if I did not tie a knot right, or failed in some other requirement to attain the next level of rank. I did get to second class, but it was a hollow victory, because I was criticized---both in the troop and at home---for not attaining first class more quickly.

My escape came, unexpectedly, from Junior High School. During January-March of 1971, my science class had weekly exams on Tuesday mornings. Because I had an almost perfect A average, and my parents were very anxious that I "shine" scholastically, I was able to convince them that I needed to study hard and long on Monday nights. Of course, I was not allowed to watch television during the study time, but it was a relief to be safe at home rather than facing the potential bullying at the troop meetings.

In Spring of 1971, the Junior High began a bowling league which met, of all days to choose, on late Monday afternoons. Mu father, who was an avid bowler, was most anxious that I become familiar with this sport, so I gladly enrolled. The season consisted of ten weeks, and usually did not end until about a half hour after the Monday troop meetings began. Plus there were still those Science class exams on Tuesday morning. So, I feigned physical exhaustion, but came home from bowling and hit the science books, all the while feeling a relief that was almost like a drug induced "high" to escape, for at least another ten weeks, the Monday night troop meetings.

In my school, the end of the year awards ceremony included a trophy for attaining a 3.5 average during the third quarter (which was also the bowling season). My parents were most anxious that I attain this trophy, in order for them to have bragging rights among their friends and peers. The gift offered to me as an incentive was a ten speed bike, a very expensive model, and my father, who was tightfisted, was obviously very displeased, but wanted the trophy more. The third quarter reports came at the end of the bowling season, and I did attain a 3.5 by about a hundredth of a point, and was guaranteed the trophy. So, one evening at supper, I found the courage to admit to my parents that I did not like scouting and that I would be happy to exchange the promise of the expensive bike for their *written* instructions to the troop leadership that they were withdrawing me from scouting as of the end of the school year. Reluctantly, and with much handwringing, they agreed. I did not even deliver my mother's letter personally, but sent it with one of the two friends whom I had recruited---both of whom were also awkward clumsy kids who had experienced the same bullying that I did. I had gone, in the course of my two years' participation, on two camp outs (and had been made miserable, because I could not keep up on the hikes); I had gone through the mill more times than I cared to count. I had been called queer, faggot, and other unprintable obscenities because I wore the uniform when the rest of my patrol dressed casually for the meetings. The incredible relief of formally severing my connection with Scouting was palpable and very satisfying. As I progressed through Junior and Senior High schools, I also noticed that most of my formerly fellow scouts were not among the achievers and student leaders of the various grades. Those who were the most influential in the troop, and also the most sadistic and hostile to the awkward kids, were mediocre students in school. Again, this seemed to be just one more disconnect in scouting. I have waited since 1971 to share this sad story. About fifteen years ago, the church I attended was apparently approached to sponsor a scouting troop. I spoke against this vigorously and vociferously and, being the treasurer, threatened to resign both my office and my membership (and my family's) if the church sponsored the scouting troop. Fortunately, others agreed with me and the proposition failed miserably.

Well Im a leader in cub scouts in ga and I totally agree bout all the fundraisers hey are garbage to me. But my real complaint are about the upper leaders in the pack the camp master hardly ever come camping and when he does its for like 12 hrs then leaves no activities planned. So I take the initiative and do things with my den and any other boy who wants to join in. And I must truly say that I am a good communicator and my parents really like me and but the camp master and me dont see eye to eye. In return they always complain about lack of organization with the uppers just wish he would take a hike Im gonna go after his Camp master status to try to make it smoother with everyone involved in the pack Email are ok but I like the personal touch ie Phone call or talking with other leaders and parents in person