Cook the turkey, eat the turkey. Trim the tree, hang the lights. Sing the songs. Make a list, check it twice. Hear the Word, bow your head. Buy the presents, wrap the presents, open the presents.
This time of year is full of rites and traditions, things we do to remind ourselves that change, even today, isn’t all-powerful. As our sons get older, my wife and I are more intentional about setting down these little markers throughout the year. We want to make sure they know what’s important to our family: Hold this, watch this, repeat after me; this is something our family does.
They're still growing into those traditions — soon, I hope, they'll realize such truths as the superiority of their Aunt Carol's homemade mac and cheese over the boxed stuff — but more and more they get it. And more and more, the traditions we teach them aren't only about what we do but who we are.
Since my oldest son was born, I looked forward to inducting him into one of my dearest Wingfield traditions. This fall, we did just that: He has the navy blue shirt with the patches on it, the neckerchief and the hat.
He’s a Cub Scout.
My grandfather was a scout. My dad, my brother and I are all Eagle Scouts. We went to the same summer camp. My son, the first of our line not to grow up in northwest Georgia, is bound for other campgrounds; we’ll try to manage.
Scouting has taken some hits in recent years. Resolving the longtime question of gay members and leaders will, I hope, ease some of the contentiousness.
Yet, somehow, it has endured for more than a century and maintains greater public esteem than most of our institutions. Actually, I think I know how: It helps us remember there are some things about who we are and what we do as Americans that don’t change, that shouldn’t change.
Video-game programmers can create all the wondrous worlds they want, and boys will play them. But take those same boys to the outdoors, and you’ll see many of them still find fascination in this original world of ours.
Along the way we teach them about what we as Americans do and what we are. A scout is trustworthy; he tells the truth and keeps his word. A scout is loyal; he stands by his friends. A scout helpful; he comes to the aid of others.
Not every family has a tradition of scouting. It’s said that 30 percent of scouts drop out of the program within a year, and I can foresee that coming true among my son’s group. And only two out of a hundred scouts make it all the way to Eagle.
But that’s another reflection of who we are as Americans, or at least who I hope we still are. We try new things, listen to new perspectives. We don’t get a participation trophy every time. We can find meaning in trying, coming up short and learning from it all.
My son has learned what an Eagle Scout is, or at least that there is such a thing, and that I’m one. He says he wants to be one, too, and I’ll be delighted if that comes true. But I’ll be proud as long as he tries, stretches himself, absorbs, applies what he’s learned, and comes out the other end stronger, better, fuller, more thoughtful, more reliable.
That’s what we do and who we are; that’s the tradition. And I’m thankful for it.
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