The other Wednesday, Tommy and I went to San Francisco for a ritual we hadn't participated in for about 3 (for me) or 4 (for him) years: a Boy Scout meeting. We went to a meeting of Troop 88 to talk about our experiences of becoming eagle scouts. My mental forecast predicted ineloquence with a 70% chance of awkward. The meeting turned out surprisingly well, and I didn't make too big a fool of myself in front of the cool-as-shit 14 year-olds.
The biggest treat was the post-meeting schmoozing. Since I left the troop, the scrawny, rinky dink scouts I once knew had grown up into the current leadership. And the mid-level scouts I had taken backpacking had now taken my place as the aloof, old men of the mountain.
There's something inherently satisfying about seeing something come full circle to its end-state. Maybe I should take up farming. Watching a new crop come in would never get old.
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