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been a Rover Scout

      in England, stood as
      my champion, He
      convinced my mother
      and encouraged me to

      go to Scout Camp at
      Camp Dimond-O. It
      was to be the adventure of a lifetime—swimming,         continued to relate, you would be assured of
      boating, star hikes, living in tents for a week,        advancing further in the Scouting program (my

      and of course the ultimate— The Trading Post            ears perked up) and you would want to return
      for sodas (they sold a “suicide” drink of all sodas     to Dimond-O another year. He concluded his
      mixed together!), snacks, and souvenirs from the        remarks with an invitation to us Tenderfoots to
      camp. This was to be my year! I am an August            accompany him on a vigil the following night.

      Baby and hadn’t been old enough to join the             Spend time in the forest, contemplate our path
      Scouts until I was eleven, thus I was a year behind     in our advancement, and what we could be as
      some of my friends. Finally, mother consented,          men and leaders of the future.. I was hooked! I
      grandfather paid, and I packed up my things—            signed up as fast as I could for a chance at this

      sleeping bag, full uniform, and my official Scout       adventure. Who cared if you lost a few hours of
      toiletry kit. I got into one of the cars going down     sleep when your whole life was at stake, and you
      to Yosemite by convoy. I drank it all in, listening     would clearly divine the future?
      intently to what our Camp Commissioner Tom                  We gathered outside the trading post. Staff

      said each night at the campfire. As a Tenderfoot        members, the older, wiser guides and guardians
      Scout, my main goal was to finish off the outdoor       of our experience, were present. Each wore a
      portion and become a Second-Class Scout that            green felt slouch hat with one side folded up
      week. And then one night, Tom told the legend of        a-la-the pictures of the early English Scouts.

      “The Immortal Hand,” the spirit in the Yosemite         We were told we could purchase a similar hat
      Valley.  He said there would be an opportunity          to identify ourselves as proud veterans of Camp
      to, perhaps, be one of the few lucky Scouts to          Dimond-O. I wanted one of those hats! (I still
      see the ghostly  phenomenon. If you did, he             have a faded photograph of me ready for camp




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