Cody and the Undertaker - another Boy Scout story...

[Hardpan Curmudgeon SASS #8967]

Cody

 

 

Cody was a good kid.  Had a good heart, was very bright, ambitious, academic, and reflected well his parent’s values.  Cody was also my son, Ryan’s, best friend for most of their formative years.  The lads shared several interests, from baseball to music to Scouts, when both were in Cub Scout Den 9 (I was “Den Mother”), and when they started sixth grade they moved up to Boy Scout Troop 118, where I was Assistant Scoutmaster.

 

And this is where our story comes about:

 

Early Autumn, and the boy’s first Camporee.  It was my job to coordinate our troop’s participation in the event, and drove to the campsite (Baker Ranch) on Friday night with five young Scouts on board – including Cody, on his very first ever trip away from home. We arrived, towing the troop’s gear-filled trailer, located the rest of our troop and set up camp, went on a night hike, then all turned in.

 

Next morning bright and early, up for reveille, breakfast, then into the fast-paced schedule of Scoutie activities and competitions.  The boys were busy for the entire morning, and finally, just after lunch, had a period of “free time” before the afternoon’s first round of games.  The boys went off to amuse themselves while I had coffee and conversation with a couple of other Scoutmasters.

 

As two o’clock neared, I set out to round up my charges.  I eventually found them, seven or eight youngsters busily engaged in that time-honored, favorite pastime of boys everywhere… throwing rocks.  Gathered in a knot, they were in random order sailing stones at a very stout, broad-trunked oak tree, delighting with every rewarding “Thunk!,” chattering encouragement to each other and in general having an enjoyable time.

 

“Okay, guys!” I barked.  “Let’s go!  Tug of War in ten minutes up at the field!  Let’s GO!”

 

Half a dozen kids, including my son, Ryan, whirled and ran, charging up the hill toward the games field.  Two or three dropped the stones they were holding as they took off in pursuit of their fellow 118’ers, determined to not be left behind.

 

And that left Cody.  Cody was a good kid… a kid with a lot of heart.  And he held in his young hand the absolutely most perfect hurling stone ever.  God Himself had placed that particular stone on that hillside with the express desire that Cody find it… it fit his had perfectly, was exactly the correct weight and optimal shape for sailing at that very oak tree.

 

“Cody!  Let’s GO!”

 

Cody looked at me.  Then he looked at the stone in his hand.  Then he looked at that oak tree… looked back at my “hurry up!” scowl, looked again at the stone, then with resignation cocked his arm back, stuck out his tongue just-so, and sent that perfect granitic specimen hurtling toward the poor tree.

 

And at that very moment…

 

Well, nobody had realized that Eddie Brauer, one of our older Scouts, had been hiding behind that oak tree during the rock assault.  Indeed, Eddie had been struggling to hold in his snickers and giggles as he heard the woody impacts of the geologic projectiles ricocheting off the bark. 

 

And he heard the herd of booted and sneakered Boy Scout feet thundering off up the hill after I gave them their instruction.

 

So, assuming the coast to be clear, Eddie, at that very moment, decided to pop out from his safe shelter and mosey on after the group.  Not knowing that there was a straggler.  Cody.  And of course, not knowing that Cody had just loosed a final missile toward his protective oak tree.

 

But Cody, despite being a good kid with a lot of heart, and being a baseball player, did not have the most accurate throwing arm.  Even when equipped with that most perfect God-provided stone. 

 

So it was inevitable, and it came to pass, that Cody’s stone and Eddie’s head arrived at the same exact point in the universe at the same exact instant.  And before our astonished eyes, they collided. With a most sickening, hollow-sounding “Thunk!”

 

Eddie’s waffle-stompers came up and Eddie went down, landing in a perfect supine position, cocooned by a cloud of dust.

 

“O My Gawd!” I exclaimed.

 

“O My Gawd!” Cody exclaimed.

 

Cody froze, and I rushed to Eddie.  Instantly I saw a gash on his forehead, a goose-egg  already forming, and his eyes pointed in differing directions.

 

“Eddie!  Eddie!  Are you all right?” I blurted.

 

“Huh….?”  said Eddie, his eyes struggling to find each other and establish synchronous communication with his brain.

 

Cody looked on in shock… pale, eyes and mouth wide open, his face wearing an expression of abject horror.

 

“Eddie!  Oh, Eddie!  I’m SORRY!  I didn’t mean to hit you in the head with a rock and kill you!” he blurted.

 

As he started to come to, Eddie murmured something about not worrying, he’d be all right, calm down, and such.

 

I helped Eddie to his feet, and supported him as we set out for the headquarters tent and the first aid station, with Cody following  with non-stop blurbering of tearful apologies.

We made our way into the tent, and I called for assistance – “We need first aid here!”

 

A gentleman dressed like a Scoutmaster rose from his chair and calmly asked “And so what do we have...?”

 

I gave a quick summary of the situation, while in the background Cody softly and tearfully wailed about not meaning to kill Eddie.  We – me, the gentleman, and Eddie – ignored Cody; the gentleman, who introduced himself as Mark Peruch, had Eddie sit in a chair, and quickly and skillfully examined him. 

 

He asked what troop we were with, and sent a nearby Scout scurrying off to fetch Eddie’s mom, then set about treating the now semi-alert young man.  He cleaned the gash well, applied a topical antiseptic, closed it with Steristrips, and covered with a gauze bandage neatly taped in place.

 

As he was finishing up, Eddie’s mom, Mercedes, arrived. She took in the sight of her son being patched up, Cody’s sobbing confessions, a very brief comment from me, and made the immediate and calm assessment of a mom-of-three-boys that, in the grand scheme of things, all was well.

 

Mark explained what he had done for Eddie, suggested that he might have a slight concussion, and urged her to take him immediately for a professional medical evaluation.  Mercedes thanked him, but before leaving, turned to the still sniffing Cody.  “Cody,” she said with a smile, “It’s okay!  Eddie’s not hurt bad, it was just an accident, so don’t worry!”

 

Eddie looked at Cody, and said “Cody!  I’m okay!  It’s not your fault – you didn’t know I was hiding behind the tree… and I shouldn’t have been there anyway!”

 

“Yeah, Cody!  It’s cool… don’t worry about it!” from me.

 

Mark chimed in, and also urged the lad to not worry

 

“But what am I gonna tell Mom and Dad?” Cody moaned…

 

“Don’t tell them anything!” we all said, almost in unison.  “It’s all O-KAY!”

 

With that, Eddie and his mom left. 

 

I turned to Mark, shook his hand and thanked him.

 

“Mark,” I observed, “That was pretty professional looking job you did there!  Are you a doctor?  Nurse?  EMT?”

 

With a chuckle, he replied “No… not exactly.  But I do work in a related field.”

 

“Oh?  ‘Related field’?  What might that be?”

 

Mark smiled, and said “Well… actually, I’m a funeral director.”

 

With that, Cody – who was still standing there, working on drying up his sniffles, asked “What’s a ‘Funeral Director?”

 

I turned to the kid, and said “Cody, a ‘Funeral Director’ is an undertaker.  Now go find the rest of the troop and have some fun!  Now ‘Git!’”

 

He wheeled about and charged out the door.

 

The weekend eventually came to a close.  A grand time was had by all, and Cody had easily slipped back into character, enjoying the activities and camaraderie of Scouting, seeming to have put the Eddie fiasco safely behind him.

 

When we’d packed up on Sunday afternoon, I drove the boys back to Madera Ranchos, dropping them off at their homes.  Cody was the last delivery before Ryan and I ended up at home.

 

As I pulled into their circular drive, Mom and Dad came out the front door to greet their son, home from his great adventure.  With huge grins on their faces, they threw their arms wide to embrace the youngster as he jumped out of my truck.  Wearing an expression of absolute delight, he raced toward his parents.  Then stopped abruptly about ten feet from their open arms.  Somewhat bewildered, they watched at Cody as he looked at his mom… then his dad… then mom… then dad…

 

And then, with no more preamble, tears literally shot out of his eyes as he wailed “I-hit-Eddie-in-the-head-with-a-rock-and-we-had-to-take-him-to-the-Under-Taker!!” 

 

Oh, the expressions of shock on Mom and Dad’s faces were indescribable.  A combination of confusion… panic… horror… disbelief… and something even beyond.

They both cried out a stunned “WHA-A-A-AT…?”

 

I rolled my eyes.  Ryan rolled his eyes.  “Oh heck.  It’s nothing…”

 

“Whaddaya mean it’s NOTHING!?  Cody just told us he KILLED A KID and you say it’s NOTHING??”

 

I shook my head, and as I tried to not repeat the eye-rolling, I explained everything.  Cody listened, but still displayed a demeanor of misery with occasional sobs.  Mom and Dad finally shed their panic, but retained the pale mantle of parental anxiety.

 

Eddie recovered quickly; he and his mom still laugh about it.  I see Mark fairly often, and always smile at the memory. 

 

All ended well, except for one thing:  Sadly, this was the end of Cody’s Boy Scout career.  Just too darned dangerous, don’tcha know, what with children having to be hauled off to the undertaker and all…

 

But Cody was a good kid.  A kid with a lot of heart.  

 

[Badger Mountain Charlie SASS #43172]

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

 

Good story, Hardpan. 

[Pat Riot]

 Thanks Hardpan. I was in a grumpy mood until just a few moments ago. 

 

Something told me not to drink that one sip of coffee... 

[Grumpy Old Man]

My story is much shorter. I was in Cub scouts, I was the last one finishing up our craft. Got done, went out front door which they were using for home plate, as I walked out the door, a swing , right into my head. Out like a light. One of 7 concussions. There's a reason I'm like I am.

[Clay Mosby]

Fabulous story Hardpan, thanks!

 

[Alpo]

I followed it all the way until Eddie's mother was there.

 

I was on several camporees in my Boy Scout career, but I never saw anyone bring their mother.