The Rest of the Story

By Larry Coppock

National Director of

Scouting Ministries

The United Methodist Church

Twenty years ago I experienced a life-changing event that could only have been orchestrated divinely. We all know too well the phrases “God has a sense of humor” and “God works in mysterious ways”. But what goes with these truthdoms, I can attest, is an affirmation of life moments of wisdom and reflection that bring the humor and mystery of God into a transforming experience of personal growth and witness. This is the story of such an experience.

My career with the Boy Scouts of America began the fall of 1979 in my hometown of Montgomery, Alabama. Included in my responsibilities those first two summers (1980, 1981) were serving as Camp Director, Camp Tukabatchee, the council’s long term summer camp. Troops would routinely come in for seven days. Scouts work on a variety of merit badges ranging from leatherwork and environmental science to forestry and a variety of waterfront activities. In fact, it can be said that the waterfront in where “the action is” at any Boy Scout summer camp and 70% of the program. Waterfront Directors are at a premium and must have the best of aquatic training, including being an excellent swimmer, CPR, and National Camp School certification.

Having never been a scout as a youth, I was on a fast learning curve. New terminology, uniforms, long hours. But I was confident. I was finishing up a Master’s Degree. I was an accomplished short distance runner. And, I was organizing new scouting units-troops and packs-left and right. Plus, I was learning to work with and manage volunteers. I was at the top of my game, until Michael came along.

Michael Barren was an African-American music teacher at a predominantly black elementary school, Daisy Lawrence. Located near a government housing project, we started a new troop and pack there in the early 80’s. Michael became the scoutmaster and cubmaster. He called his scouts-all black, “the scum of the slum”! Only he could get away with that. Their rank advancement was pitifully poor to begin with. No uniforms, low self esteem. But Michael stuck with it until at one camporee one patrol in his troop earned the presidential ribbon as the best achieving patrol in competitive activities. Later, the troop received the district’s “Spirit Axe” award exemplifying overall enthusiasm, work ethic, and scout spirit as voted on by his fellow scoutmasters. The story could have a happy and complete ending there. But God works miracles, and sometimes, I believe, has fun performing them. Minor ones, major ones. But most, all of his miracles are important ones.

In 1982, my term as Camp Director was over. Two long and grueling years. During that time I experienced several challenging events at camp: a tornado came through our camp, though no one was injured; we had two unexpected lost bather’s (drills), a tent burned to the ground from spontaneous combustion, and the state closed our waterfront for two weeks due to “high fecal count” in our lake. I was at my wit’s end. Thank God, no more summer camp. No more 24 hour days. I was finished, Yea! My last official duty was to hire the Waterfront Director for the 1982 camp season. My top prospect-Michael Barren.

My supervisor at the time and I discussed hiring Michael because he had plenty of spare time - 3 months - during the summers. He was a teacher plus he was good with kids as he had shown with his own troop. It was cut and dried. Set in stone. I set a time to interview Michael and make the job offer to him. (Most Waterfront Directors have relatively brief careers in that position, maybe 1-2 summers at most). Michael hesitated when I asked him to consider the position that we were offering him. At the time, I was surprised at his reluctance and thought it was due to his being black. Michael would make history as the first Waterfront Director to be black. And, remember, where we lived - Montgomery, Alabama - a beacon of civil rights issues over the years. I could understand his reluctance. The city still had a long way to go to improve race relations. However, I assured Michael that all would be okay. The scout executive, our staff and volunteer leadership would be supportive of the decision to hire him.

What I didn’t realize at the time was that Michael’s reluctance to accept immediately did not center on the “race” issue at all. It was something far more basic: He could not swim. I had just hired a Waterfront Director that could not swim! And top that off, he didn’t tell me.

From that day in January 1982 until March when he was scheduled to attend National Camp School (where all Waterfront, Program and Camp Directors must go for BSA certification), Michael learned how to swim. He enrolled in beginning swim classes at the local Y.M.C.A. and eventually became a proficient swimmer. (Two years later he trained me for a local mini-triathlon). But, he still had numerous challenges to overcome. At National Camp School, Michael learned to float on the last day of the school, a requirement for all BSA swimmers! Nothing like pushing the envelope, eh?

Michael’s first summer camp was 1982. He shared this story with me right before camp began. Obviously, I was astonished at this revelation. And, I felt like a total idiot. But a happy idiot. I never had asked Michael the basic question: “Can you swim”? during, the interview. A valuable lesson for someone who thought he was in “total control”.

Years passed and I lost track of Michael. Wrapped up in my own career and family as many of us do, I begin thinking about Michael often relating this story during various presentations to church and scouting groups. I picked up the phone one day and called the council office in Montgomery. I reached a staff member there that I had served with years before who knew Michael. I wondered whether Michael was still teaching and just wanted to reconnect with him after almost 20 years of no contact. What was shared with me was remarkable. Michael was still the Waterfront Director. He had taught over 1000 scouts the skill of swimming over the years. And, he even teaches the swimming section at National Camp School on occasion. And now you know… the rest of the story.

Sometimes the seeds that we plant never take root. Sometimes they grow into pretty flowers or beautiful plants. Sometimes they grow into mighty oaks. God presents his miracles to us everyday. All we need to do is open our eyes and marvel at the fruits of our labor and recognize that God is our intangible partner, the miracle maker; small ones, big ones, but all are important ones. Michael was an important one. God bless you, Michael!