Pond Boss Forums GENERAL QUESTIONS Pond Boss How JHAP Got Kicked Out Of the Boy Scouts

"I sat halfway through one meeting then I realized I was surrounded by dorks...including the leaders..."

Anything feel familiar these days?

The view is different looking from the inside out.

Every single meeting I go to at work.

And I was sure it was the wrong finger thing!

I understand your problem. They're out to get you. Never trust anyone over 30.

Now we just have to get the story about how (Y)JHAP quit smoking.

Why do I suspect it has something to do with getting beaen up by Michael Laudenbak's older sister?

I tried the Boys Scouts also. About 2 days after I joined we went camping and it was 10 degrees. When we got back, I said "thanks guys, it's been real" and retired. A great organization though.

With out a doubt, knowing my temperament at the time I'm sure that I expressed my dissatisfaction with a significant hand gesture on my way out. There, feel better now Heybud?

Had nothing to do with Michael Laudenbak's older sister. She was about 6-7 years older than us. I was around 12 -13 at the time, I don't recall my exact age. One day Michael and I were walking down the street smoking her cigarettes. We could barely smoke them, coughing ever puff. We were trying to be the cool kids. So anyhoo one day we were walking an smoking and I took a big old puff and started a coughing attack seconds later Michael did the same thing. So we're stand there coughing away and I said to him are you enjoying this? He says "nope" and that was it. End of smoking for JHAP. Well until I was about 17 and and another good friend and I found his dad's cigars.

As far as Michael Laudenbak's older sister went she wouldn't give us the time of day. To her we were her pesky kid brother and his annoying little friend.

IMHO the Boy Scouts is a great organization it just wasn't for me. I always joke about growing up in the city and being a city kid but the truth of it is I was raised in a family of outdoors folks. My father ran "blister rust" contracts throughout the Mother Lode area when he was a young man. Blister Rust was (is I guess) a disease that was attacking certain trees. The department of forestry wanted to remove diseased trees so they contracted with people to go through the forest of the Sierra Nevada mountains and mark trees. My Dad bid on and won several of these contracts and ran crews of guys on these contracts. He would head off into the forest for days at a time marking trees. He could survive quite well on his own in the outdoors. My Mom spent a significant part of her life on a 1,100 acre ranch in Northern California. She hunted and fished with the best of them. My mom to this day is quite a shot with a rifle. Every year my folks took us tent camping. We'd spend 3 weeks a year camping at Lake Shasta. That's where I really learned to appreciate nature. I continuted to tent camp throughout my late teens and early 20's.

A funny Mom and Dad story (as told for years by Dad) goes as follows: Dad said that one day while on my Grandparents ranch my Dad decided to impress my Mom with his shooting prowess. So we walks to a fence post and puts a can on top of it, he marches back several yards and says to my Mom "watch this" and he proceeds to shoot the can off the post. My Mom, never one to be intimidated, says well that was a pretty good shot but it looked too easy. I'm going to hit the wire on the fence. So she takes aim with her rifle and actually split the wire in the fence. From then on Dad never bragged about his shooting skill but would always brag about Mom's. I must have heard this story told and retold a 100 times. Here's the funny part. In 2006, Mom, Dad, Ricki and I are all enjoying an evening meal at our ranch. In the cold fall evenings we'd all migrate over to Mom & Dad's trailer and cook dinner. Then we'd sit around the dining room table and plan the next day or whatever. We had purchased Remington air rifles and had been shooting targets earlier that day. So Dad tells the story about Mom shooting the fence. Well I guess that Mom decided to come clean and she suddenly said. You know I didn't think I had a chance in heck of hitting that wire. I could barely even see the wire. That was an absolutely lucky, one in a million type of shot, but I sure wasn't going to tell your father that, I was tired of hearing what a great shot he was and that one shot put an end to it.

Jeff, your Dad's story about your Mom's rifle skills brings back pleasant memmories.

When My Lady and I were newlyweds I thought I was a hot shot expert rifleman - had a WWII medal to prove it.

I had a neat little Winchester pump action 22 cal rifle and we would target shoot tin cans hanging by a string from tree limbs.

One day I shot the cans full of holes and my bride said "watch this".
She shot the string and the can fell to the ground....
She also put a stop top my braggin' .....
I too, have told ths story many times.

Thanks for the memories.

Good stuff, thank you for telling that story George.

Those shooting lady stories are reminsicent of when I "qualified" Fish Wife on the .357 Magnum. We have a shooting range with an earthen backstop on the farm. While we walked back to it, I gave her verbal advice and encouragement. I figured I would do some hands-on instruction and shoot a cylinder full of ammo or two as a demonstration before having her give it a try. It was about this time of year, and when we got the the backstop I had her hold the .357 and a box of ammo while I gathered up a dozen hedgeapples (osage oranges) for reactive targets. I placed them on the front of the backstop, then walked back 50 feet or so to where Fish Wife was waiting. When I got there I noticed she was holding the .357 in a nice modified Weaver stance, aimed at the backstop. She pulled the trigger, exploded one hedgeapple with a center hit, and said "I'm done" as she handed me back the .357 and began walking back to the house.

Is that when you then tried to hit any remaining hedgeapple with the remaining (4) shots, yet failed to do so?

That sort of thing happened to us last weekend. My, soon to be 10 year old, Grandson/Pardner was shooting at targets and beer cans with his 22 rifle. My Wife, Charlene, was monitoring while I was finishing up a way too big deer blind. He asked if he could shoot my 22 pistol. I said sure and he went to get it. He actually hit 3 beer cans out of 6 shots at about 25 ft. He walked back to the picnic table that was about 40 ft. from the cans. He reloaded and Charlene picked up the pistol and put 3 quick holes in the cans with 3 shots. She quit. He's pretty impressed since he has never seen Grandma shoot any kind of gun. She outshoots me pretty badly with any kind of pistol.

Don't be ridiculous.













6-1=5

My fault, Mabro. My .357 also takes .38s and only holds five total.

I can relate. I never made it past Tenderfoot because I had a lake behind the house full of trout, bass, and bluegill when we lived on an Army post in Massachusetts. Why go to Boy Scout meetings when you could fish every day? And besides I'm an artist. We don't like being told what to do or being organized.

Here's what the lake looked like. No development other than swimming beach and the fishing was out of this world! Water was gin clear. You could see 20 feet to the bottom.

Cecil, that sounds like me and golf. When I was in the 7th grade, my Dad sent me for golf lessons. "Lots of big deals are made on the golf course, Son." After 3 or 4 lessons, the Pro called my Dad and said for him to save his $. He said that all I wanted to do was walk around the water hazards and look for fish.

I had the same problem when the high school football coach came around, I was 6'2" and 220 lbs in my junior year and it drove the coach nuts when he would ask why I didn't play football. I always said "Well, October is my busiest month, lots of hunting to do, wouldn't be fair to the team to miss all the practices." I still would rather hunt or fish than watch any sport on TV.

You know your son might be a Pond Boss someday if.....

I had the same thing happen with bowling. My mom thought it would be good if I got on a Saturday bowling league for kids. Trouble was while I was bowling my dad was out hunting pheasants with the bird dog.