Young Cub Scout
I have never been much of a joiner. The only club I remember belonging to was the Cub Scouts, and that was only for a few weeks in third grade. Seems all our den mother Mrs. Coulson wanted to do was take us over to Steinberg Rink in Forest Park to watch her son Billy ice skate while the rest of us just stood around sliding our neckerchief rings up and down over our tidy blue uniforms.
“Hey, Jimmy,” I said to a fellow rail hanger in week two. “You got any matches?”
Point being — as I heated up a dime to throw out onto the ice — I didn’t see any merit badges coming out of this except maybe for anger management or leg-splinting. So after a few more hot-dime tosses trying to get Billy to trip and break something, I quit the scouts.
Thus when some people asked if they could put my name up for nomination to the Running USA board of directors last year (2010), my initial response was “of course not”. Notwithstanding, through no fault nor campaigning of my own, I received a call during the holidays telling me that I’d been elected to the 17-person board.
