"Dad, I Don't Want To Go"

When I was twelve-years-old I broke my father’s heart. He was driving me to my umpteenth Boy Scout meeting when I told him I didn’t want to go.

“What’s the matter Bud,” he asked me, “you not feeling well?”

“No dad. I don’t want to go to scouts anymore. I want to quit”

This was one of the hardest things I ever had to say to my father. I was terrified to tell him of my decision to leave the Boy Scouts not because I thought he’d get angry, or that he’d be disappointed in me, but because I knew it would make him sad.

My dad had been a Boy Scout all the way until he turned 18. He probably would have stayed in longer if it weren’t for the age restriction. He often told me how his fondest memories from childhood were from scout campouts and weekend trips. To this day he goes camping once a year with the boys, now men, from his old scout troop.

He signed me up for Boy Scouts as soon as they’d allow me in, at the age of seven. I began as a Cub Scout doing crafts and taking field trips to museums. I moved on through WEBELOWS (We Be Loyal Scouts) and started earning activity badges for things like using a compass and wielding a pocket knife. At 10-years-old I had a Cub Scout graduation ceremony, crossed the ceremonial bridge, and I was made a legitimate Boy Scout. This meant real camping trips and real merit badges.

Throughout my ascension from Cub Scouts to Boy Scouts my dad was there. He went to meetings with me, he helped me earn my activity badges, and he organized carpools for our trips. When I moved into Boy Scouting he was excited. He signed up as a troop leader, bought his khaki shirt and scarf, and started going to leadership training to become a better scout dad. Even at that young age I could see how much my father enjoyed being in the Boy Scouts again. Part of the joy he got out of it, I’m sure, was getting to spend time with his oldest son. But also I think he was reliving something he loved from his childhood.

So there I was at twelve-years-old, only two years into what should have been an eight year experience, and I was robbing my father of one of the things he loved most in life. At least that’s how I felt. After I told him I didn’t want to go he immediately accepted the decision and turned the car back towards home. He let a few moments go by then asked me why I wanted to quit. My emotions overwhelmed me. I couldn’t answer him because I was crying so hard.

“I’m sorry dad. I’m so sorry.” I squeaked out through the tears. “I love you but I don’t want to go to scouts anymore. I’m sorry”.

His answer was simple. “It’s okay Bud. I love you too”.

We drove the rest of the way home in silence. I cried, and we both hoped we hadn’t done anything to make the other person feel bad.

My reasons for quitting the Boy Scouts were simple. My interests were changing. I had made some friends who were in a local youth theater organization and I wanted to try singing and dancing instead of camping. I still loved my dad. I wasn’t rebelling against him. I just wanted to do something different.

I’ve thought about what it is I’m waiting to have my own son so I can do again. I think it will be baseball. I can’t wait to have a boy to play catch with. I’ll teach him how to throw, what a ground rule double is, and I’ll coach his little league team. I imagine my dad fantasized this way about teaching me to build a fire and find true north. Maybe all parents send their kids to activities subconsciously trying to relive their youth. That doesn’t seem wrong. I just hope I can be as gracious and understanding as my father was when my son tells me “Dad, I don’t want to go”.