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12/31/2021 0 Comments Funyun Time
But there’s also some weird religious stuff thrown in for good measure. For example, one of the Webelos core adventures is demonstrating “Duty to God.” I gather that most people didn’t know about the religious vibe in American Scouting until a couple years back when the Mormons, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, officially severed ties with the Boy Scouts of America. The parting of ways got a fair amount of press. That’s when a lot of people found out for the first time that “Mormon troops were a backbone component for Scouting” and that the Mormons had been using Scouting for the past hundred years to "mainstream" their nutty religion. News nugget! As one might expect from someone who was, in all likelihood, subconsciously warped by religious fanatics, I only vaguely remember the official aspects of being a Webelos Scout. Earning badges and jumping through hoops didn’t stick in my long-term memory – at least not consciously – like the rest of it did. The memories that stuck are related to hanging out with my friends and going camping. * * * The fellow Webelos Scouts I remember the most are Derek Harper and Kevin Bevan. I remember them for different reasons. Derek had a bad-ass BMX bike before anyone even knew what the hell a BMX bike was. He was also double-jointed. He could pop both shoulders right out of their sockets, and bend his arms back around his back like noodles, I swear – all without even flinching. Shocking, to be sure, but for Derek it was all in the name of physical comedy. Derek could also stuff and hold so much food and/or beverage in his mouth that his cheeks would bulge out like a chipmunk. I distinctly remember sitting around a campfire one time when Derek got an entire bag of Funyuns to fit into his mouth. One by one, he shoveled ‘em right in until we were all on the dirt, laughing our asses off. Sure, being Funyuns and all, some of them must’ve dissolved on contact such that the whole bag wasn’t really packed in there all at once, but it was still pretty damn impressive. Our Den Leader gave him a wink and said, “I oughta give you a special Scout badge for that!” More impressive yet, was that Derek was able to communicate with us with his mouth full. I remember he said, “He are aye eh-err an ooh-uhl!” which all us Webelos immediately understood to mean “These are way better than Bugles!” Sadly, Derek committed suicide when he was a senior in high school. He had moved out of state just before tenth grade, so he wasn’t attending my school at the time. But the news of what happened sure did make the rounds. Kevin Bevan – known to all as Kevinbevin, spoken as one word – was the go-to guy for any and all camping supplies. Forgot your canteen? No problem, Kevin had a spare. Need some string or a carabiner? Kevin had it covered. Snake bite kit? Check. He took the famous Scouting motto “Be Prepared” to a whole new level. Kevinbevin was also the de facto camp lookout. He was in a constant state of readiness. We pitied any raccoon that dared to enter our camp at night because it was sure to run into Kevinbevin, and it was sure to be chased back into the woods by Kevinbevin and his weaponized walking stick. Legend had it that he’d once chased off a bear that way. Legend also had it that Kevinbevin never slept. It may have been true. I can avow that whenever I woke up in the middle of the night and got out of my tent to go take a piss, Kevinbevin was always awake. He’d be sitting by the fire, poking at the embers, or in a camp chair outside his tent chewing a fingernail. I’d say, “Hey, Kevinbevin. Any bigfoots tonight?” He’d say, “Only saw one, but I scared him off.” Kevin’s fraternal twin sister, Heather, was sort of an honorary member of our Webelos Den, and she came along on all our campouts. I think that having a girl tag along was probably a violation of a Webelos Code or two, but we got away with it because Kevin’s and Heather’s dad was our Den Leader. Also, remember, we were just a bunch of 5th graders – so to us Heather was just a part of the gang rather than someone to fawn over or get distracted by. * * * This was still a few years before Heather…umm…blossomed. By our junior year in high school, Heather Bevan was better known as ‘Heather Heaven’ on account of her stunning good looks. Jet black hair and green eyes makes for a rare combo. If you hadn’t met her before, I guess she would’a come across as downright exotic. Like Derek Harper, physical comedian, who rode the hell out of his BMX bike and ended his own life, Heather switched schools just before tenth grade. But her school wasn’t far away like Derek’s – it was just across town. So I was fortunate enough to have a Heather sighting every once in a while. I’d see her from afar at the mall or at the 7-11 sometimes. She was pretty easy to spot. * * * A lot of our Den meetings were at Kevinbevin’s house. The thing I remember most about going over there was that his kitchen cupboards were stuffed to the gills with bags upon bags of Funyuns. It was a household favorite. It may have been my imagination, triggered by just knowing that all those Funyun bags were there, but I always thought that house smelled a little Funyun-y – which is just another way of saying fake-oniony. I kind of liked it. But I know it’s not for everyone. It turned out that Kevinbevin’s dad, our Webelos Den Leader, worked for Frito-Lay, so he got all those bags of Funyuns for free. Amazing. Myself, I would have gone for good old Ruffles potato chips, rather than anything as wild as Funyuns. To me, the industrialized re-interpretation of the onion ring comes off as somewhat Orwellian. But, hey, beggars can’t be choosers. Another thing I remember about Kevinbevin’s house: One time I walked into their bathroom and accidentally caught his mom in the middle of getting dressed – or maybe undressed. It’s not what you think. I didn’t see a boob or anything. In fact, I saw that she had on some kind of crazy toga-looking-thing and what I took to be an adult diaper. Weird. I coughed up a quick apology and skedaddled the hell back downstairs to be in the safety of my Webelos Den. Of course, I had to ask Kevinbevin about this. “Hey, Kevinbevin,” I said after the Den meeting was wrapped up and we were all hanging out waiting for our rides. “Earlier, when I first got here, before the meeting…well...I accidentally walked in on your mom in the upstairs bathroom. She was wearing this big diaper or something. What’s the deal? I think I’ve been traumatized or something.” “Oh, that’s just her garment,” Kevinbevin answered. “Her what?” “Oh, in our church you get a garment when you turn eighteen,” he replied, matter-of-factly. “So she wears it to go to church?” I asked. “No, she wears it all the time under her clothes. Dad wears one too.” “What church do you guys go to?” I asked. “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” said Kevinbevin. * * * Later on that evening when I was back home, just before going to bed, I asked my dad, “Hey dad. What’s the Church of Latter-day Saints?” “That’s the Mormons,” he said. “What’s that?” I asked. “The Mormons? Oh, they think Jesus paddled over to America in a canoe, way back when, and preached to the Injuns.” * * * My spiritual advisor, K, cooked up a brilliant analogy a few weeks back, just before the holidays. She’s great like that. Me being the sucker for analogies that I am, well, I’ve really been running with it. ‘Spiritual advisor’ may be painting it broadly. It may be that she’s my friggin’ therapist. OK? Anyway, the analogy has to do with how my True Self already has access to all the wisdom that’s needed, but it’s been covered by layers of crud, a.k.a. coping mechanisms, over the years. Oh, I’ve got me some beauty layers, let me tell you. Coping mechanisms galore. K gets to hear all about ‘em. She likens the process of me refamiliarizing myself with my True Self, a.k.a. the Work, to be like peeling down through layers and layers of an onion. Lots of layers, lots of tears. You get the idea. This onion analogy is both comforting and inspiring to me, and I’ll tell you why: It makes perfect sense to me that I was born into this lifetime with everything necessary to get along pretty well as a human being. Dogs and cats and dolphins and hawks are all born with everything they need, and I see all of them zipping around in the world, having their dog, cat, dolphin, and hawk experiences. So it stands to reason that I, too, must be similarly equipped. That means I don’t really need to worry about starting from scratch and building a brand new me. That would be a shit-ton of work that I'd rather not tackle. That’s the comforting part. All I have to do is buff off some surface rust and then revel in what I find underneath. Hell, all it takes to do that is some good ol’ fashioned elbow grease and some trust in the process. That I can handle. That’s the inspiring part. K also says it oughta be fun to peel the old onion, and you know what? I totally believe her. Of course, whenever I’m speaking with K and I hear the words ‘fun’ and ‘onion’ in the same breath, my Webelo skills kick in, and I turn it into a Funyun. And there you have the secret nickname that I’ve bestowed upon my current Work. * * * During my senior year in high school, I was floored to see someone I knew, Daniel Morton, dancing with none other than Heather Heaven at Northview High’s Sadie Hawkins dance. First off, I had no idea that Daniel was going to be there. Northview wasn’t our school. It was Heather’s school. Now, Daniel and I weren’t super tight or anything, but we knew each other well enough that I figured I oughta to have known about him being there with Heather. After all, I recalled having mentioned to him earlier in the week that Jenny Marlow had asked me to go, so he knew damn well that I was going, and must’ve known that we would run into each other. But the real shocker was that Daniel was there with Heather frickin’ Heaven. I decided to keep an eye on him because I knew he was kind of a perv, and when the first break came and my date, Jenny, made off for bathroom, I made my move.
Walking up to Daniel and Heather, I said hello and gave old Daniel a what-are-you-doing-here look. You’ll never guess what he did. The sunuva bitch winked at me. Winked! Oh, I knew there was way more to this story, for sure, and I planned to dig right in. But before I could begin the interrogation, Heather reached out her pretty little hand and said, “Hi, I’m Heather. Are you a friend of Danny’s?” There aren’t too many things in this world that are worse than catching a wink from a scoundrel. But Heather’s obliviousness to who I was, whether feigned or real, surely counted as one. Knocked back a bit, but trying to recover, here’s what I managed to blurt out as I shook her hand: “Funyuns.” She looked at me with those damned green eyes, tilted her head ever so slightly, and said, “Huh?” I noticed her lower arm was kind of black and blue. But it was still one helluva pretty arm, and since her wrist corsage was mostly covering up the whole business, I was able to quickly regain my senses. “I used to come over to your house all the time. I remember all those Funyuns your dad would bring home,” I stammered. I was off to a great start, let me tell you. “Umm…” Heather eyes darted over toward Daniel, a.k.a. Danny, who stood there grinning as I continued to drown right there in front of him. “I was in Webelos with Kevinbevin.” With that explanatory gem, a spark of recognition flashed across her previously confused face. Her brow softened and then she turned on a big, beautiful smile. I can say for certain that at that moment, at the age of seventeen, I had never been in the presence of someone that beautiful. “Ohmygosh! It’s so nice to see you! It’s been a hundred years,” Heather cooed. She pulled me in for a big, genuine hug. Her raven hair brushed against my face for just a second and I instinctively inhaled. She smelled terrific, familiar. She held me there in that hug for a little longer than I expected. I wasn’t complaining. I looked over at Daniel in the midst of my Heather hug. He wasn’t grinning any more. Heather and I shared a little small talk. I remember her telling me that she couldn’t wait to graduate so she could escape the hell out of the Booby Hatch. She meant her crazy household. I thought that was a funny turn of phrase, and it squeezed a chortle out of me. I said, “Yeah, yeah. I know exactly what you mean, Heather. Exactly what you mean.” The small talk wound itself down, and then that was that. I never spoke to Heather again after that night. Nor did I ever see her again. Not even at the 7-11. Later on that same evening, though, I bumped into Daniel, on his own, coming out of the restroom. “Hey, Daniel. So I gotta ask ... what’s the deal with you and Heather Bevan?” I asked. “Are you guys secretly going out or somethin’?” “No, not really. No secrets here. Except I couldn’t tell you I was comin' here tonight with her, because, man, I had’ta get a good look at the goddam look on your face, man. Priceless, man. Priceless. But, hey, I’m countin’ this whole dance thing as a real date, no matter what she says later. It totally counts! And believe me, bro, I’m totally gonna work my magic tonight,” Daniel answered, undulating himself and sliding his hands over an invisible, human-sized hourglass somewhere out in front of him. “She’s really somethin’, right?” “She’s a real looker, all right. So did she ask you to the dance or what?” “Huh?” “You know, it’s a Sadie Hawkins. So did she ask you?” “Oh, right. No. I mean, not really. I kinda lucked into the whole thing. I kinda asked her to ask me, if you know what I mean. And she did! I knew the Brewster [a guy we both knew, Tom Brewster] was gonna be out of town this weekend, and I think she woulda asked him if he was gonna be around. But hey, you snooze, you lose. I swooped right in, and now here I am. Screw Brewster! She’s so hot, right? That dress. Jesus H. Christ.” A cute blonde walked past us just then, on her way to the ladies’ room and Daniel’s eyes locked on lecherously. He gave her a nod and a wink. “Yep, for sure. We covered that.” I was getting a little worried. I needed to get down to the heart of the matter. I needed to find out if Daniel was plotting against Honorary Webelos Scout, Heather Bevan. I figured the best approach would be to play along, maybe compliment his skills, see if I could get him to confide in me. “I gotta hand it to you, man. That’s master class, I have to say. So are you gonna make a move?” I had to know. “Hell yeah, I am!” Daniel proclaimed with confidence. “Next slow dance, I’m gonna grab her ass.” “Like hell. Do that, and you’re gonna get yourself slapped,” I said, hoping to inject some doubt into his little scheme. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained, my friend,” he said with a chuckle. But I could tell he was throttled back a bit on account of I had him worrying about what it would be like to get slapped by Heather Heaven in front of everybody out there on the gym floor. “Besides, the way I see it, I’ve got nothing to lose. I mean, if she goes for it, well, that’s a win. And if she doesn’t, well, it’s no big loss.” “Whaddya mean, ‘no big loss.’ She’s a total ten. Super smart and nice too. The whole package. If you scare her off, I’d count that as a pretty big loss, pal.” Now I was on a roll. “Also, what if the Brewster gets back into town and decides to kick your ass? Or what if Kevinbevin finds out you harassed his sister and goes Full Metal Jacket on you?” Kevinbevin had, by that slice in time, earned a reputation for being a little off balance. Daniel paused to process. But only for a second or two. Then his wheels spun back up again. “Don’t get me wrong. She’s a hottie and all,” Daniel said, and then he took a little pause to take a peek over my shoulder out toward the dance floor to see if anyone was listening or coming our way. “But…well…I think we’ve got bad chemistry mojo. Like our pheromones are not aligned or somethin’.” “What the hell are you talking about?” “Whenever I get close to her, or we’re in the car or whatever, I get a whiff of something weird.” “Are you crazy? What do you mean, like her perfume or something? Is it like Nicole and how she always smells like goddam patchouli?” I blurt-asked. “No, man, it’s like her basic essence just ain't aligned with mine or sump'n,” Daniel confessed, almost embarrassingly. “Basic essence?! Oh, get off it! You sound like some kinda nutty, Zen surfer-dude. What’re you afraid yer chakras are out of whack or whatever? You’re just rationalizing in case you blow it.” I wasn’t connecting the dots just yet. “I’m being serious. She’s got a weird smell to her,” Daniel continued. “It’s kinda like onions, but not.” – O.M. Kelsey
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