We teach boys to burn flags. . . properly.

I love the opportunity to teach and train boys to be men.
Boy Scouts of America gives me a great place to do just that.

In our little country of the USA, there are many conflicting voices; loud, shrill, quiet, calm, violent, or fearful. Undignified and some refined. All have their opinion about things like mayonnaise or mustard, pastels or earth tones, paper or plastic, stand or kneel, burn or dance, tear down or leave it be. I must make two confessions; I believe that not all opinions are equal and not all questions are valid. I hold strongly to the belief that there really are stupid questions in life, and your opinion, if it is trying to be forced on other people, better have something to back it up.

Any person in America has the right to believe or think anything. They even have the right to express themselves, and get together with other like-minded idiotic people of the same OR DIFFERENT mindset to talk about it. Isn't that what the 1st Amendment of the Constitution protects?

I do not want the government or anyone else telling me what I can or cannot teach as a Pastor within God's church and with God's people. That is the duty of  The Holy Scriptures and The Holy Spirit. Because I want to be protected, I will defend the right of a Muslim, Spiritualist, Wiccan, whoever, to worship in their own way. Even if I do not agree with them. I won't help them, but I will protect their right to do so. This is Freedom of Religion, protected under that same 1st Amendment of the Constitution.

So back to teaching boys. The 1st Amendment of the Constitution of the United States is really well seen and taught within the scouting movement. (We practice and teach the 2nd Amendment as well, but that is for another day.) We teach boys to fulfill their duty to God and their country, these two come up a lot together. We teach respect for other faiths. Within our own unit we have Christian, Muslim, Morman, Catholic, and None or the above. We also have a natural born Jordanian, English, and some kid from up the head of a hollow (pronounced "holler").

You know what the ironic thing is, these kids don't realize it. They don't know they are a hodge- podge of abnormality.

In teaching respect for the flag of the United States of America we cover the history, the care, storage, and presentation. We teach about wearing, using it for different purposes and flying the flag upside down (this is a sign of distress). We teach that people in America are free to burn the flag.

One of the boy will always ask the question, "Is it illegal to burn the flag?" we take the same 1st Amendment approach. A person has a constitutionally protected right to burn the flag out of anger, disagreement, protest, or just don't like the color blue. They have the right to jump up and down on it while screaming about their restricted rights. The very flag they hate, is a symbol of their protected right to do so.

Flag retirement done with a BSA Troop

As a side note, we also teach this; If someone is not an American citizen, they don't have to nor should they be expected to Pledge Allegiance to the Flag. It's good to stand out of respect for flag that is protecting you, but you don't have to pledge allegiance. I wouldn't say the Canadian Pledge if I was there for something, but I would stand out of respect for that sovereign nation whose protection I am under at the time. Most all of this teaching time happens in the individual units, packs and dens.

Now back to our real goal of the teaching time. How to properly "burn", let's not use that word, "RETIRE" a flag from service. In this case, at a District event with several Boy Scout and Cub scout units from 3-4 counties.

There is a lot of confusion over how, when, where, and all the details about retiring a flag from service. There are ceremonies written and shared. There are different ways to prepare the flags; quarter them, separate the colors and the field of stars, keep it whole but folded in a square. However it is accomplished it is to be done with dignity. Respect is key to properly retiring a flag from service.

Boy Scouts standing vigil, protecting the fire and flags. Sept 2017

At our district event we had a large amount of flags. The red stripes alone filled 3 garbage bags, as did the White stripes. The blue starry fields filled two bags worth. Something strange happens during this type of ceremony. As a brief history is given of the flag and description of how they were being retired the entire camp is silent.

The Boy Scouts started with the White stripes and then formed a circle around the fire so as to protect it and those participating. The cub scouts followed their lead.

Then we went through the Red stripes with leaders and adults. The cub scouts, these boys who were 10 minutes earlier yelling and laughing, and jostling each other around watched each adult submitted their portion to the flames. This is not a quickly done ceremony. It takes a while for this to happen. I know strange, right.

The blue starry fields are held to last. These were for our military, First Responders, and children of military personnel. The entire group of over 250 people stood. As the first of the blue went into the fire the camp saluted. The Pledge of Allegiance was recited for these flags one last time as they waved in the air as flames. Once the pledge was finished everyone remained standing. They were not asked to stand. They were not told to stand. They were not expected to stand. Everyone stood in silence as Old Glory shown one last time.

The Blue Starry Fields being retired by current and former military personnel. Sept 2017

Everyone left in silence after the last piece was added. The older boys scouts remained and kept vigil over the fire as it died to embers and then dust. The next morning the grommets were collected from the ashes and buried in the woods so no part of the flag could be desecrated or disgraced in any way.

The Flag is a symbol of the protected right to stand or kneel in its presence.
The Flag is a symbol of the protected right to be silent or scream at it.
The Flag is a symbol of the protected right to respect or disgrace it.

The Flag also means I have a responsibility to teach the next generation. To teach the rights and liberties we Americans hold so dearly. To protect people of other faiths and nationality. To allow others to express their beliefs, protests, or ask stupid questions. To also teach the right to make an informed decision while at the same time showing respect to everyone. It doesn't mean we have to help them or encourage them, but respect their right to do so.

All of this happens by teaching boys to burn, sorry, RETIRE, the flag.

Dad Day: Chucking Tomahawks

What guy, in his right mind, having grown up watching westerns and revolutionary war movies doesn't long to know how to through a Tomahawk. Even if I wasn't raised in the mountains and didn't spent all my early years in the woods, I would love to know how to throw one  properly, accurately, and consistently. After all, what red blooded American Man hasn't thought of needing to go all Benjamin Martin if the red coats re-invade the states.

In our house we try to learn as much as we can about how things were done 100 plus years. They were geniuses back then and our thought is this will help learn creative problem solving, self sustainability and it's just flat out cool. We planted the "Three Sisters" Indian crops this summer, corn, beans and squash. They did amazing and we have enjoyed eating them. We have learned to shoot archery and guns. We learn to harvest woodland vegetables and mushrooms. We learned to throw Tomahawks.

Now I must admit, I have always wanted to learn to properly throw a Tomahawk. That is way up there on my list. I don't mind if my kids learn to throw them. I didn't expect it to be like this, however.

It started out as any family outing, setting up the tents, taking hikes, fussing about playing in the fire that only I should be playing in. We did the interpretive stuff around the park and had a great time. Friends that we like to hang out with were there. We ground cornmeal and got to take a big bag of it home. But the whole weekend was leading up to the Tomahawk throwing.

I thought there would be some beardy mountain man looking feller with a coyote skin hat, leather satchel, and lace-up buck skin moccasin boots.  I also thought there would be a safe distance, well marked perimeter, and guy that would DEMONSTRATE how cool he was by throwing tomahawks in dozens of different ways and distances never missing.

Elijah throwing and Caleb watching.

When I pull up in the truck from loading all our camping gear, there is one old man. I mean helped Daniel Boone blaze the trail across Pine Mountain and decided to just stay there old, with a string of 7-9 year old boys lined up with looks of pure exstacy and adventure in a trance as metal weapons sliced through the air in a terrifying dance of deadly summer-saws. Then just at the split second when you think the dance will end, they spring back through the air with an encore of misguided ricochets that reminds you of a Miley Cyrus performance. The weapon then falls into the leaves waiting for its little dance instructor to come and give it new life in its next chilling routine.


But there are two throwers, at the same time. As the little Mahican goes after his tomahawk, . . . you guessed it, the next kid releases his macabre dance of terror.

Gasps sucked the dried leaves from around the area as moms closed their eyes, babies cried, and men fainted. Actually the men didn't notice. We just wanted to throw, and we are coaching our kids to properly throw a weapon we have never attempted in all our live long days.

We wanted to get our hands on those little axes and release our inner William Wallace.

I would love to tell you this scene only played once, and some one went over and helped the little old guide control this band of blood thirsty woodsmen. No, it happened a couple of times, exactly like that. So, finally when my loving, caring, protecting wife had practically hyperventilated, and our friend was ready to scalp someone, I went over.

Lucas throwing and Mollie getting ready.

They were a good bunch of kids and we talked about safety and how it was like shooting a BB gun or archery. How we had to wait, watch and listen to everything going on around us. We had to watch out for others around us. How this was a weapon that deserved the same respect as other weapons. I was instilling in these strange boys life lessons that would make them better men and husbands.  I was shaping them into respecters of people and tools. I was the Jedi Knight training these young unknown padawans. Their mothers would thank me with words of undying gratitude. Their fathers would hear my prophecy and carry them on. It was a good day. Nobody had died, yet.

Targets were cross cut logs with 2x4's nailed onto it and one boy knocked the leg off. Some dads went over to pick it up and nail it back on, so the fun would continue. The throwers were all back were they were suppose to be. The hawks were pointed down. Everyone's eyes were on the dads who had stepped up to save the day. Then, it happened. The tomahawk came up and released into the air without anyone noticing. It's sick little dance was short and like all the others, bounced off the second log with morbid desire to take life and limb. It wanted to continue it's dance, not settling for the mere wood stump it was sent flying at. Oh no, it leaped up into the air cart-wheeling itself towards it's new destination and landed with a ghastly curtsy next to the leg of the dad of the thrower.

There was that movie perfect moment when every breath stopped and every brain had to process what had just happened. When time stood still as every person there locked eyes on that weapon that stared at the ankle it had so wanted to find.

It was a good weekend. Nobody died. Nobody was injured. But there was a lesson learned there that was not taught by me or any other dad. Lessons we learn the hard way. Lessons that teach louder than words and are carried on to the next generations. Lessons that as men are never chucked away.

We like learning new things, especially traditional hands-on skills. As for the Estep household, the kids did well, and listened as good as any other kid. They even made them stick a few times. I know what you really want to know, and I don't think we will be getting throwing tomahawks any time soon.

Go do something new this week.