International Scout

International Scout

           

             Now we have a new style issue from the phony New England Wasp style etiquettes?

            Yes... do not we?

            It is from the phony New England Wasp; their new etiquettes.

            Yes; those people.  They are Preppy they show; Preppy Wasp

            They say.

            They are not

            Wasp.

            New England Wasp.

            And their new etiquettes are not New England Wasp.

            No.  Just Preppy.  The ‘make fun of

            That’ Preppy.

            It is easy to do; both the Preppy and the ‘make fun of’.  Just wear the shoes that match.

            But let us look at just one; a single foist of a new style of the phony New England Wasp style etiquettes.  Just one.  I wouldn’t want to get the new Land Rover stuck up to its hubs.  In fact I’ll let the Wasp be the snob; the ‘stuck on themselves’.  Are they the ones who are really stuck in the muck?  Or is that a pitiful shot that is a miss?

            The new (and all the rage popular) with aging Preps is the ‘serve notice’ and ‘am acting on’ ‘downsize’ ing “I AM”.  “ME”; “I AM DOING THIS”.  Before I die?  “Idiots.” and then he went upstairs.

            The old Wasp.  That shadow.  That’s what he did “after listening to that crap”.

            The idea; the notion.  The principal.  The endeavor.  The ‘doing that’ ‘for someone’ AND one self-self; the self served self... ish self serve “I ANNOUNCE” that I am

            “GIVING”

            You my stamp collection that I collected as a child that is stored at the bottom of the scrapbooks on the floor of the upstair linen cupboard.  I, you, it, giving.  And you keep it until you die.

            Why don’t you shut up and leave it there like the old Wasp... man ...did when he went upstairs after determining that the idiots were ...idiots.  That is what real New England Wasps do... and have done... for eleven generations... in New England.  They do not mess with their mess; play games with their stuff.  “SOON ENOUGH” for “THAT” (my stuff).  “LEAVE IT BE.”

            “The last thing she did after she downsized was

            DIE”.

            The way it used to be done; was ‘always done’, was nothing was done and that was the way it was done.  Nothing.  No one.  Cleaning out.  Giving away.  Foisting.  Then there is, too, the “passing on”.  In what sense?  No passing on.  It was ‘he died’.  And the stuff was not passed on.  Either.  It was ‘cleaned out’ if ‘it’ (the home) was “SOLD”.  For many generations that did not happen.  The home was still ‘the family lives there’.  The home’s cupboards were not bare.  In fact they were jammed full.

            So was his International (Harvester) Scout he bought in 1961 and ‘last drove’ in the Veterans Day Parade in 1973.  “Vietnam (War) was over”.  He parked it back in the garage (shed) and... well... it is still right there and is ‘being used for storage’.  Yes.  That is right:  It is still parked right there.  No one has downsized that.  This is a real New England Wasp family.  THEY HAVE that sixty one Scout.  They know it is there.  Right there.  In the shed.  Yes... THERE.  Where he left it.  IT IS THE WAY .... the... YOU... want it to be.  There.  GET IT?

            He was an Eagle Scout.  He went to the 1950 National Jamboree in Valley Forge.  His badges and pins are in a little paper box nestled on top of his folded Boy Scout Uniform that is in a larger stiff paper box that has been closed and left exactly as he ‘put it’ when he left scouting that year; after attending the Jamboree.  The box is on the shelf in the front hall cupboard.  It has always been there.  No one knows why it’s there.  OR CARES.  That’s where it is.  RIGHT NOW.  It is there. 

            “Who is going to deal with this mess?”  No one.  That is not the way these things are done.  It is not a mess.  It does not have to be a ‘deal with’.  It is a ‘just left there’  That is old New England Wasp.

            The rugs do not get ‘taken out’.  Or ‘moved’.  Or cleaned.  The family lives there.  Who the family is and what is in there... is none of your business.  The old Matron will explain that to you with an icy stare that suggests she feels you are of ‘low rent’.  She means your entire eleven generation gene pool.  Eleven generations ago the Matron’s people felt the same way about your gene pool.  Way back there... when... they did not ‘down size’... then... either.  Your family was, back then, too, ‘low rent’ and ‘didn’t have anything anyway’ when they ‘sold out’ their property.

            And spent that money on new shoes at an outlet store.

            I did not get, ever, “called in”.  As an antiquarian.  To “look”.  No.  That.  Never.  Happened.  I didn’t have to poke around with a lot of ‘valuable antiques’ banter and, of course, ‘clean out’ and ‘sale’ banter.  No.

            Didn’t happen.

            The old man went upstairs one afternoon and didn’t come down for his supper.  The Old Matron took charge.  She didn’t do anything.  Nothing.  At all.  The rest of the family stayed that way too. Over a quarter of a century went by.  Again:  No one did anything and that includes ‘downsizing’.  No one in the family ever downsized anything.  The International Scout, filled with “storage”, is still right there in the shed.

            I did get to see it.  First a first time.  Then a second visit.  Then a third time after the Matron died.  The first time I went into the shed with one of the children.  WE were ‘getting’ a ‘splitting maul’.  We didn’t find that but I found the Scout.

            The second time I had Michael Snow with me when I went by the home to... well never mind that.  I told old Snow about the Scout.  In the shed.  I asked if I may “show him the Scout”.

            “SURE. IT’S NOT LOCKED”.

            Snow looked the scout.  Walked around the Scout looking at it.  Never touched the Scout.  Then he looked at the three side walls of the shed; stood back as far as possible and just looked.  He didn’t say anything.  The Scout was filled with ‘storage’; old cardboard boxes and folded plastic and metal lawn chairs.  When we left old Snow watched me close the shed doors; bringing them ‘to’.  He looked at the rusted padlock hasp, flipped the hasp with his hand and grinned at me.

            “It’s amazing.” he said. “The best thing about it is that it (the whole shed and the Scout inside it) has been left alone; just left that way.  That’s what makes it great.  It’s not like you can just move all that somewhere and have it be the same.  Right now it’s still the same.”

            Get it?

            My third visit to the Scout in the shed came within a walking around the property buildings with a family group; a tour situation.  I asked if we could look at the old Scout.  “SURE”.  We; I and a single male family member, went down, opened the doors, looked for a moment then closed the doors and walked back to the family group.  “Do you think we should lock that (shed) he asked me.  “No.  They never did.” I said.

            “That’s what we feel too.” he said.

            When we reached the family group the single male I’d made the pilgrimage with had to explain that “No.  The name of the car in the shed is (International) Scout.”

            “Oh I thought you were taking about his old Boy Scout uniform in the cupboard in the house.”

            “I’ve never seen that.” I said.