Happy Anniversary to my wife and me, 8 years and counting. We’ve come to our favorite anniversary spot as we do most years. A weekend away can do wonders.
The drive up here is about 3 hours and very nice this time of year. We’ve come up here in the winter in the past and that is not a fun drive. If you get up before the snow, though, it’s no big deal.
On the drive up we pass an old broken down barn. Only the front side of it has fallen, and the first time I saw it, it struck me as looking like it was kneeling. I’ve always thought that a picture of it with a cross cropped-in in front of it would be a very striking image. I’ve taken several pictures of it, but none of them ever come out quite right.
That long drive also gives me a lot of time to think. I got to thinking about the Scouts of America. I was a Cub Scout, and a Boy Scout. I loved Cub, not so much Boy. Though, the latter was mostly because of the individuals I was there with. An unfortunate result of luck. Such is life, though. The point, though, is that while I enjoyed it as a child and came away with a lot of good from it, I don’t know that I am willing to send my son down that road. I’ve learned too much about them, now. Their discriminatory policies towards gays as well as agnostics/atheists are things I don’t want my son associating with. This non accepting attitude contrasted against the great lessons learned as a member puts me in a tough position that I really don’t have a means of reconciling. My only real hope is that they get their heads out of the sand before my son comes of age so that I don’t have to make that decision. Either that or try to find another similar program.
We got to our room and the first thing I did, well, after hauling everything in and then changing and feeding my son, was plop my butt in the bath tub. The tub at home is fairly small, and while I still enjoy taking a soak in it, the nice big tubs up here feel very luxurious. It really is the little things that make things nice.
The other thing we discovered shortly after arriving is that my wife had forgotten to bring any shirts. Which isn’t entirely accurate, she didn’t forget. She had them set out, but she somehow forgot to put them in to the bag. oops.