I was born in 1943 and grew up in Coatesville, Pennsylvania, a steel town where there were not many activities for boys. You could go to the YMCA, or you could join a Boy Scout Troop. My brother and I joined a Troop at a local Presbyterian church, and in time, we both earned the Eagle Scout Award.
We did not have much. Our tents were old Army-surplus pup tents, and we patched together whatever equipment we could find. Our Troop vehicle was a hearse. We camped in lean-tos in New York when the temperature never rose above the twenties. We traveled by bus from Valley Forge to Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico, stopping at an Air Force base and Dodge City along the way.
Those adventures gave us stories we remembered for a lifetime, but it was the men who led us that impacted us most of all. Three adult leaders formed the heart of our Troop. They were more interested in growing us into men than in simply helping us earn awards. Two of them never had children of their own, yet they invested countless hours in us, routinely giving up weeknights, weekends, and even entire weeks of the summer and winter. That’s one of those things you really don’t appreciate until you’re older. Looking back now, I can see clearly that this was a mission for those men, a calling. They taught us outdoor skills, responsibility, discipline, and faith. They saw potential in us and the image of God in us.
One of those men in particular became like a father to me. Years later, when I was preparing to marry, I took my fiancée to meet him. I remember feeling like I needed him to meet her, to give me his blessing. Even as a boy with a godly, devoted dad, I benefited so much from having other men like him in my life.
Our leaders set a high standard. On campouts, we had morning and evening devotions, in uniform. We marched into camp in a straight line, in step, with our flag held properly. I remember one occasion when our Troop won a competition at summer camp and I mocked one of the other Troops. My leaders firmly corrected me. Their message was clear: “That is not how a Scout behaves.” And that mattered to me. I didn’t want to let them down. I didn’t want to let my troop down or fail to live up to the Scout oath and law.
Through ordinary moments like that, they taught us that character is revealed in the little things—in how you hold yourself, how you treat a competitor, how you respond when no one is applauding, and whether you do what is right when it would be easier not to.
My father reinforced those lessons at home. He worked in the steel mill and urged us to get an education so we would have opportunities he never had. Even though he worked long and hard, he made time for his kids. He showed me how to take things apart, understand how they worked, and put them back together. He even set aside to go camping with me, including the summer and winter camps.
One of the most powerful memories with my dad is from a really simple moment. At the dinner table one night, after I had gotten myself into some trouble, he looked at me and said, “I will always be your dad, and you will always be my son.” I have never forgotten those words.
My father taught me that love does not disappear when someone makes a mistake. He also taught me that our choices matter and that a man must learn to make wise ones.
Years later, when Trail Life USA began, my response was simple: “It’s about time.”
I knew boys needed a truly Christ-centered outdoor program—one that was intentionally focused on growing boys into godly men, strengthening their faith, and developing character through challenge and adventure. My son-in-law and grandsons became involved, and I joined them.
Being part of Trail Life with my grandsons was one of the greatest gifts of my life. I did not know my own grandfathers well, and I did not want that to be true for my grandchildren. Through Trail Life, I was able to camp with them, encourage them, watch them learn, and see them grow into young men. Today, they are working, involved in church, and building lives of their own.
Trail Life also gives fathers an important opportunity to lead by example. Boys need to see men serving, praying, persevering, making wise decisions, and admitting when they have made poor ones. There is so much that must happen outside the classroom to help a boy become a man.
Boys today—in many ways—live in a different world than the one I grew up in, but they still need the same things. They need adventure. They need responsibility. They need men who will spend time with them. They need someone who will hold them to a standard and remind them who God created them to be.
You have to get their attention. Take them camping. Teach them to cook. Give them something difficult to accomplish. Let them work with their hands. Then, while you have their attention, teach them what is right and what is wrong. And I believe this with all my heart: You get the right leaders, and the boys will turn out right.
Not long after Trail Life launched, I was encouraged to earn the Freedom Award. At the time, they had a way for Eagle Scouts to apply to earn their Freedom Award, to honor that scouting heritage and all the hard work that went into becoming an Eagle Scout. I decided to do it because I thought it might help set an example to the boys in our Troop. A leader is a servant who knows the way, goes the way, and shows the way. Earning the award was not simply about receiving recognition. It was about setting an example and helping blaze a trail that others could follow.
To the boys working toward the Freedom Award today, I would say this: Freedom is big, but do not let it overwhelm you. Break it down into bite-sized pieces. Just do the next thing. Take the first step, and then take the next one.
Prepare for tomorrow today. Learn the skills. Complete the work in front of you. Listen to the men God has placed in your life. Make wise choices, and when you make a poor one, learn from it and keep moving.
Most importantly, spend time in God’s Word. Study the Psalms and the life of David, a man after God’s own heart. Study Noah. God asked Noah to do more than he thought he could do, and to obey when the task did not seem to make sense. Noah did what God told him to do.
There will be times when God asks the same of you. The trail may look long, the mountain may look high, and the next step may seem difficult. Trust Him. Obey Him. Keep going.
The future of our young men matters too much for us to stand back and hope someone else will lead them. They need fathers, grandfathers, and faithful men who will walk beside them. In my opinion, if we fail with Trail Life, there’s no hope for our young men.
They need men who will show them the way. And they need Trail Life.
