Thanks, Mr. Rich

"Good evening fellas," as he always liked to say,

when he joined with our troop on that October day.

He came from the Coast Guard, was stationed at McGuire,

joined with his son Adam, whom he hoped to inspire.

Not only an Eagle, heíd been a Scoutmaster too,

came from somewhere in Virginia, with a size 15 shoe.

Heíd been around a bit, camped out more than once,

had some excellent ideas, and helped us a bunch.

Took the Troop to Sandy Hook, made all of the plans

lead everyone there and camped on the sand.

Things went well until the bad weather arrived,

and was forced back home at twenty to Five.

Heíd forgotten one thing, something never to show,

a tent pole lying somewhere on the snow.

During the last Klondike, he happened to spy,

a propane tank next to a fire to dry.

Always speaking his mind, never one to hold back,

he quickly became famous for his shortness of tact.

Raising full up and demanding quite loudly,

he yelled at the culprits who glared at him proudly.

Said he, "Do you want to blow up the whole camp?"

While a terrified Scoutmaster almost became damp.

One time at a meeting, the scouts became wild,

throwing their snowballs with many acting the child.

"We need an adult here, someoneís bound to get hurt."

said one of the Moms, almost losing her shirt.

"Arenít you an adult?", said Leonard minus passion,

quickly solving the problem in his typical fashion.

For the Troop and the Church, he went that extra mile,

digging ditches, waxing floors, painting sheds and laying tile.

Helped build the Klondike sled, gave up many nights,

while turning up at meetings, camp-outs and hikes.

A friend of the Troop and a friend to each scout,

Will Leonard Rich be missed? There is no doubt.

Now youíre off to Ohio, with your family in tow,

to start a new job, and your income should grow!

As we say our good-byes, God speed from our midst,

good luck to you all -- and thanks Mr. Rich.

 

 

 

A Poem for Mr. Dresslove

Gather round fellow Scouts, I have a story to tell,

of someone you know and know extremely well.

His name is Mr. Dresslove, heís been around quite a while,

heís been involved in Scouting and has his own special style.

Came from Brooklyn he did, by way of Viet Nam,

talks a lot about the Air Force and serving Uncle Sam.

Not one to be shy, and not one to take flak,

Heís the short bearded guy with a huge hairy back.

Works in Weights & Measures, heís always checking the scales,

and terrorizes any storekeeper who tries to tell tales.

Always going to Court, and knows each Judgeís face,

donít mess with him, Ďcause he rarely loses a case.

His love for Scouting, this Troop and OAÖ

not many people could surpass to this day.

Always willing to help, always ready to talk,

Heís up for anything Ė except a long walk!

Cooking to Ron was a special part of Scouts,

and the end product was something that voided all doubts.

It had better be great and it had better be filling,

or thereíll be blood on the floor thatíll need some spilling!

In camp, his "Good morning, the little bird would say",

contrasted greatly to the "Gouuuys!" at the end of the day.

To Ron, camping at Yawgoog was always worth the trouble,

and you can be sure he drove there on the double.

Sharing a tent with Ron could never be boring,

and Iím here to say that Iíve survived all that snoring!

How long-suffering wife Doris tolerates Ronís dealings

causes him concern about hurting her feelings!

Three times a Scoutmaster, three times heís helped out,

over 35 years heís served, with rarely a shout!

His love of this program, his love of each boy,

makes me glad to have helped, to have shared in his joy.

Just donít make him mad, and donít treat him inferior,

or he just may threaten that boot up your posterior!

So good luck we all say, thanks Ron for the fun

but your third term as Scoutmaster is finally done!