Order of the Arrow

So, this didn't exist in 1911, but my grandfather was still surprised I wasn't familiar with it. Then again, he's familiar with everything having to do with the Scouts. Seriously. He was an Eagle Scout, Silver Beaver, you name it.

So over the past few days, I spent a little time filming my grandfather talking about a few things related to his time in the Scouts in the mid-30s. (He stayed involved with the Boy Scout Council until the 80s, and his store sold scouting equipment until, um, until today, really -- my uncle's taken over the store and Grandpa, in the tradition of retirees everywhere, moved to Florida, but still.) Today's clip (there'll be more as summer wears on) relates to his initiation into the Order of the Arrow, a particularly survivalist kind of scouting honor society, in 1936.

(We also went to the beach, over the course of which I was totally shamed by being way more buffeted by the waves than he was, but the man can swim, I'll tell you that. Clearly, the Order of the Arrow isn't for wusses.)