Lick the Toad!

I survived...

Perhaps that says it all for some, but not for me, of course.

A few months ago I volunteered to spend the week at scout camp with the troop sponsored by our ward; Troop 988. I had nothing to do with the scouting program in this ward but there was no one available to spend the week there with the boys who is a part of the program, so I raised my hand.

The day I raised my hand I had not attended a scout summer camp for 7 years. I turned 57 in May of this year so I must have been 50 when I traveled with my Broken Arrow, OK troop to south-central Oklahoma to spend a week with the boys. The seven years had clearly dulled my memories of that camp and I ignored the additional seven years I was carrying around. As I raised my hand that Sunday, there was only the romance of it all that I remembered, and none of the torture.

In Oklahoma, I actually had the help of several other adults, but not here; not last week.I suppose one could count as help the one adult who helped deliver the boys with me last Monday. He stayed until the afternoon but all he did was set up his own son's tents. He did not stay the night. There was another troop of another ward in our stake sharing the campsite. They had 7 boys the first night, and three adult leaders. On Tuesday morning two of the adults and one of the boys left. I had nine boys and the other scoutmaster was a novice at both Boy Scouting and summer camping with them. That left me to prepare and present the nightly troop campfire events designed to slow the boys down after a day of activity and to, inspire, entertain or frighten... sometimes all three.

In my troop there were two 12 year-olds who had never been to summer camp before. One was very interested in Scouting and the other would have preferred being anywhere else on the planet. Both were a little scared but they seemed to be able to comfort one another and naturally buddied up for the week. For the rest, save one, it was, at least their second year but for one, the oldest by far, at 17, it was his last summer camp as a scout. I believe the only reason he went was to wrap up a couple of merit badges he needed to qualify for his Eagle. I appointed him the Senior Patrol Leader, or, in other words, the top boss among the boys. He graciously accepted and did a fantastic job all week.

I saw our troop as a little disjointed on Monday. Perhaps it was my imagination as I had not really done much with these boys beyond seeing them during Church and occasionally on Wednesday evenings when they attended their Young Men's activities. Whatever the reality, I determined we needed a unifiying event; something powerful and memorable; bordering on dangerous or, at least, disgusting. The event was handed to me late in the afternoon on Monday, in the form of a captured toad.

I took the toad and without hesitation, I licked its back from tail to head and yelled "LICK THE TOAD!".

The boy who had found the beast was a little shocked but when I said: "Now it's your turn." his eyes bulged as he screamed his refusal followed by asking me why.

I said that licking the toad was representative of doing something difficult when no one expected it. I told him that there weren't a hundred people in the world who would lick a toad and that he would be among the elite courageous who did. I handed him the toad and he slowly, timidly, placed his tongue on its back. He, like me, spit immediately.

Toads are bitter. When I licked it, I discovered why snakes don't eat them if they have a choice of any other morsel. Nothing else even tries. Not wolves, not foxes, not hawks; not even Gila Monsters will keep a toad in its mouth.

I should add that this toad was tiny and that no one enjoyed any hallucinagentic experiences by ingesting the venom because these were not Colorado River toads, the only toads that have 5-MeO-DMT in their venom, which drug can send a man into la-la-land.



So, one of the 9 braved the warts and joined the team. One by one, all the boys in my troop took their turn; even the new boys. Out battle cry for the balance of the week was "LICK THE TOAD!" Everyone outside our camp became confused when we yelled it out.

I promised the boys I would provide T-shirts that would have a picture of a toad and the caption: "I Licked the Toad in 2008!". This promise motivated the other troop where all but one joined the club. Of the 6 leaders they had in camp, however, only one decided to join the boys.

My boys then, added another challenge. That was to place an entire toad in one's mouth. I did it and found it far more pleasant than licking one. This act added a star to the name of the boy which would be on the t-shirt.

This single, unifying event, brought our boys together. They walked around camp with more confidence and they accomplished more that they would have without the toad. At least I would like to think so.

Once unified, the campfires became awesome.

To inspire them, I asked the boys to share three serious wishes they had for their future lives. This after teaching them the purpose of Scouting where the Church is concerned. We have scouts to strengthen to quorums. Some LDS scout leaders think it's the other way around, but they are wrong. I said that the quorum could only grow close if the members knew each other.

The wishes that were shared were incredible, righteous, valiant, humble, timid, poignant and, sometimes, sad. Testimonies were shared and burdens lifted.

On another night missionary experiences were shared by the men around the fire. We had all served, incredibly, south of the border; one man served Guatemala, albeit two decades after I had returned.

To entertain them, I told funny stories, some true, some not so true, and to frighten them, I pulled out the ones that never fail; the Severed Hand, the Rainy River Raptor, Old Bugeyes and the Ohio Strawman.

I was a little kinder this year as I let up a little when it appeared someone was about to cry.

The boys accomplished much in their pursuits of merit badges and rank; all that is, except the one new boy who would have preferred being at his desktop. Our SPL was asked to be the MC at the All-Camp Fire Bowl and Order of the Arrow Call-out. His dad showed up for the final fire and beamed when he heard what his son was doing.

We rose early Saturday morning and broke camp. I was home by 9:00 am, unpacked, showered and laid down for a little nap. I felt every minute of my 57 years.

On Sunday all the boys were in Church and each whispered "Lick the Toad!" when I shook their hands. One mother seemed a bit appalled but the others were cool. The bishop's wife, whose son was a second-year man, told him and me, not to tell her anything about camp.

She was happier in her ignorance.

I was tired. I am still tired; but I am fulfilled in a way.

I had always liked these boys but at Camp Tamarack, I grew to love them. I wish only the best for them and will do anything I can to help them achieve righteous goals.

Historical statistics say that a third of them will leave the Church never to return. Half will divorce and one will die before his time. All will face trials I can't even imagine. Hopefully, when they are deep in the muck of it; just when they are about to give up, they will remember the last week in June, 2008, when they, with courage and gumption, licked the toad and know that toad lickers are unbeatable!