<\/p>\n\n\n
December 24, 1992, Southern California. Early evening. My 12-year-old Scout son and I are hunting for a tree. It\u2019s been a difficult year. I\u2019ve done my best to keep a bright face. Fact is, I\u2019m pretty much in survival mode.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n I\u2019d become a single parent this year. My business had imploded, the result of a string of legal sessions and court hearings. A painful divorce has already taken a huge emotional and financial toll\u2014and it\u2019s not over yet.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n I\u2019ve moved to a new part of town so my son can get to school on his own. But my sole credit card is in awful shape and cash is very tight. I\u2019m not sure I\u2019ll be able to make this Christmas anywhere close to merry. Then, last week, my son\u2019s bike\u2014this is how he now gets back and forth to school\u2014gets stolen. I found a decent replacement for him, but bikes aren\u2019t bargains this time of year. I have a few small gifts for him, but know in my heart \u201cSanta\u201d is going to fall short this year.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n If I can just get through the next couple of days, then maybe things will turn out okay, I\u2019m hoping. But sitting next to me is a bright-eyed boy who still believes in the spirit of Christmas. I don\u2019t want to disappoint him. This past year has been pretty awful for him, too\u2014in many ways worse than his parents\u2019. I\u2019m hoping that the few wrinkled bills in my pocket are enough for a tree.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n Most tree lots are already sold out and closed. The ones still with a few trees haven\u2019t cut their prices\u2014they know parents like me can\u2019t go home without a tree!<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n We make the rounds in this new part of town. Look at some trees and check their prices. Then drive and look some more. I try to pretend the trees we\u2019re finding are not quite right, but the truth is I don\u2019t have enough money to buy them. It’s now getting dark, and still no tree.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n Then my son asks, \u201cHey, Dad, remember that Scout tree lot\u2026the one that troop on the other side of town has? We\u2019ve bought lots of trees there, before. Maybe they have one for us!\u201d<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n I\u2019d forgotten. \u201cYes, great idea,\u201d I said. \u201cSo let\u2019s go check it out!\u201d he says, grinning. Turning the car around, we drive several miles to that troop\u2019s tree lot\u2026in time to watch them shutting down.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n A few Scouts are policing the area\u2014picking up stray twine and trimmed-off branches. Several parents are putting hammers, saws, bolts of twine, and unused tree stand wood into a pickup. Feeling grim, I park and we walk to the lot.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n Right there, lying amid the remaining debris, one lone tree. Unsold. Looks to be not too tall, not too short, with full, bunchy branches still visible in the fading light.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n Tucking a hand in my pocket, I try to re-count the few bills left, when one of the older Scouts walks toward us. \u201cHi! Can I help you?\u201d he asks.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re looking for a tree!\u201d my son blurts, while I foolishly try to look as if we’re there for some other reason.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n One of the fathers comes over. Asks the same question. I sort of shuffle my feet, feeling the thinness of the folded paper in my pocket.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n \u201cHey, don\u2019t I know you?\u201d the Scout asks. \u201cYeah, I know you two,\u201d he adds. \u201cYou\u2019ve bought trees from us before\u2014almost every year I guess, ever since I became a Scout six years ago.\u201d<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m a Scout now, too,\u201d my son said, \u201cJust like you!\u201d<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n Turning to his father, the Scout says, \u201cDad, you\u2019ve been complaining about what we\u2019re gonna do with that one last tree. How about we give it to these guys. They\u2019ve been good customers ever since I joined the troop!\u201d<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n His dad smiles. \u201cI know you two, as well,\u201d and he gives us both a Scout handshake. \u201cSounds like a good idea to me,\u201d he adds. \u201cWant us to tie it to the top of your car?\u201d<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n \u201cOkay, and I\u2019ll help,\u201d my son says. Then he and the older Scout tie up the branches and secure the tree on top of the car.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n I’m really embarrassed now. \u201cBut I have to pay you something.\u201d<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n \u201cNaah\u2026Don\u2019t give it a second thought,\u201d the Scout’s dad says. \u201cThat tree\u2019s been looking for the right home all day, and it’s found it!\u201d<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n \u201cHave a Merry Christmas!\u201d both the Scout and his dad wave, as we\u2019re driving away.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n Do they any idea how merry you\u2019ve made this particular Christmas? I\u2019m thinking as we head home.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n That was 28 years ago. My son earned Eagle a few years later. He went on to complete his doctoral degree, teach, marry, and five months ago have a son of his own. We\u2019ve shared many Christmases, and Scouting adventures since that particular Christmas Eve. But this one is stuck fast among my memories, as if it had happened a moment ago.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n I don\u2019t know that Scout\u2019s name, but I know his friendly smile and the cheerful sound of his voice. I hope he may read this and recognize himself and the wonderful thing he did that night. I’m sure he didn’t know the impact of his \u201cGood Turn\u201d that night. On that night, he did what he did because\u2026 because that’s what Scouts do.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n Stay safe, stay healthy, and stay positive!<\/strong><\/em><\/span> Although these columns are copyrighted, you have my okay to quote or reproduce any column or part, so long as it\u2019s attributed: \u201cAsk Andy\u201d by Andy McCommish.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n [12\/22\/2020 \u2013 No. 661 \u2013 Copyright \u00a9 2020 Andy McCommish]<\/strong><\/span><\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" December 24, 1992, Southern California. Early evening. My 12-year-old Scout son and I are hunting for a tree. It\u2019s been a difficult year. I\u2019ve done my best to keep a bright face. Fact is, I\u2019m pretty much in survival mode. I\u2019d become a single parent this year. My business had imploded, the result of a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2701","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-news"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/netcommissioner.com\/askandy\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2701","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/netcommissioner.com\/askandy\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/netcommissioner.com\/askandy\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/netcommissioner.com\/askandy\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/netcommissioner.com\/askandy\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2701"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/netcommissioner.com\/askandy\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2701\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2704,"href":"http:\/\/netcommissioner.com\/askandy\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2701\/revisions\/2704"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/netcommissioner.com\/askandy\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2701"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/netcommissioner.com\/askandy\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2701"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/netcommissioner.com\/askandy\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2701"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
Happy Scouting!<\/strong><\/em><\/span>
Andy<\/strong><\/em><\/span><\/p>\n