Changing Underwear

A while back, a friend talked about her son, who was either prepubescent or a new teen. In the screed, she spoke about “stinky boy stuff” or something similar. It reminded me of a lecture I received from my mom upon returning home from a week at Boy Scout camp in the summer of ‘66.

I was all of 11 years old. I’d joined Boy Scout Troop 45 that spring and was going to my first ever summer camp at Camp Kishauwau. To say I was excited was a huge understatement – a week away from home, sleeping in tents, having fun with your buddies – what could possibly be better?!

Mom of course helped me pack. In addition to scout uniforms, a swimsuit, a windbreaker, jeans and shorts, she dutifully packed six pairs of underwear, six white T-shirts and six pairs of sox. Of course, also a towel, wash cloth, soap, toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, bandaids, mosquito repellent, and who knows what else.  

Mom and Dad dropped me off at Kishauwau on Sunday morning and I had a great week. We went swimming everyday, took canoes out on the Vermillion River, ate great meals at the mess hall, cooked our own food a couple of times, and learned all kinds of new skills. The week passed by in a flash. 

Mom and dad picked me up on Saturday and we returned home. That day or the next, mom was doing my laundry from camp and I heard my name called/yelled. I dutifully came to the washing machine. 

Mom: “What is this!?” Pointing at my underwear.  “What is what?” I answered.  “This!” and held up my underwear. My six pairs of clean underwear. My six pairs of clean underwear I hadn’t touched or changed all week long.  I proceeded to receive a lecture from mom about cleanliness, hygiene, what the hell did I think I was doing, how could I go a whole week without changing my underwear and on and on and on… I had no defense and took it as best I could. I probably looked like a young puppy just caught peeing on the floor.  Finally, she wound down and let me go.  – whew! –

Fast forward a year. It’s time for summer camp again and I’m looking forward to going just as much as the previous year. Mom helps pack again and in go the six pairs of underwear, the six white T-shirts and the six pairs of sox. Of course along with the packing, I also receive another lecture about health and good hygiene.  “Yes mom! I get it!”

Camp was a great time once again – water sports, learning how to track animals, bonfires, learning knots and lashings, building a bridge. It was awesome. 

Friday night came and I was getting my stuff ready to go back home the next day. To my horror, I came across my six pairs of underwear, again unused. OH NO!  What to do?!  I was sure to be in real trouble this year. I thought about it and then had an idea. I would make the underwear look dirty!  I quickly threw them on the ground and then proceeded to move them around in the dirt and walk on them in my hiking boots. They looked dirty for sure and I slept peacefully that night. 

The next day Mom and Dad brought me home.  I went out to play and then heard my name called loudly by Mom. Uh-Oh. 

Mom: “What is this!?” Pointing at my underwear.  “What is what?” I answered.  “This!” And proceeded to hold up my underwear. My six pairs of underwear with boot prints on them.  “Ummm, my dirty underwear.”  “WITH BOOTPRINTS?! WHAT IS GOING ON??”

As I looked at her, my brain feverishly worked, trying to find an answer. What could I say!? What possible excuse could I give!?  I had nothing.

“Ummm, I forgot to change my underwear again and thought I could make them look dirty.”

Mom stared at me. Finally with a look only a mom could give, she said “Go to your room.”

Now I’d done it. I sat in the bedroom thinking. She was sure to tell Dad, and then what? How much trouble was I actually in? Why the heck hadn’t I remembered to change my underwear? Why hadn’t I been smarter about how to make them dirty?

Time passed. Finally, I was called to dinner. Evidently it was going to be a public execution.

Except it wasn’t. Mom didn’t say anything. Dad didn’t say anything. In my memory, I seem to remember a small smile from him, but that may just be a trick of my mind 57 years later. And that was it. I didn’t hear anything more about it. By the next year, I actually did remember to change my underwear, although probably not as often as mom would have wished. 

I’ve thought about the conversation I’m guessing took place between Mom and Dad. Mom laying out the case. Dad maybe hesitating a bit – remembering his own childhood during the depression. Or maybe thinking about being in North Africa during WWII, when he wouldn’t have had the opportunity to change his clothes for several weeks. And who knows, maybe Mom never said anything to Dad – maybe she had her own chuckle over the whole thing after sending me to my room.

Addendum:

– Fun Camp Kishauwau Fact: Ryan Gosling wore a Camp Kishauwau T-Shirt in the 2007 movie, Fracture, which also starred Anthony Hopkins.

– Here are two previous blogs about my time in the Boy Scouts:

• 50 years ago in June of 1969, I was awarded the Boy Scout’s highest rank, Eagle Scout. I was thinking about this recently when Cath and I were attending the Eagle Court of Honor for Mark, the son of good friends of ours. I also thought about Farrell and Don, who were great Scoutmasters and mentors: https://mnhallblog.wordpress.com/2019/07/11/farrell-and-don/
• On Mother’s Day, May 12th, 1968, Howard and Tim, my two best friends, and I were awarded the Boy Scout God and Country award. I recently came across a photo and newspaper article about the award. That minor event took place during one of the most tumultuous years in United States history: https://mnhallblog.wordpress.com/2018/09/12/god-and-country