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I go to my camp staff’s Courts of Honor. Full stop. That’s one thing you need to know about me.

The second thing you need to know is that I am telling this story out of order…. This is how it ends and may be missing plenty of context. Though the word “ends” kills me right now, so I cling to hope that this is just the most recent chapter and not the end.

A Court of Honor is a celebration in Scouting typically when one becomes an Eagle Scout usually involving a short ceremony, some speeches, food, and fellowship. Throughout my tenure as Camp Director I have not missed a single Court of Honor to which I was invited. Becoming an Eagle Scout is a great honor, and I love supporting my staff in this. I even have a trademark gift that the staff has figured out since they all ended up with Chili’s gift cards.

A few days after announcing that I would not be returning to RSR, I received an email from one of my kitchen staff members inviting me to his Court of Honor complete with a picture/graphic that looked much like a graduation announcement. I told him I would be there, and thanked him for inviting me. I immediately put it into my calendar and that was that because as mentioned previously: I go to my camp staff’s Courts of Honor.

I didn’t really give it much thought over the next several weeks because though I believe these are important, I knew he had just earned his Eagle and these are fairly standard. I was looking forward to this one in particular though because I knew that Kyle and Andy would be there, and we had made plans to go out afterwards.

When the day arrived, I knew I was headed towards my parent’s house, so I was planning on dropping by their house beforehand to bother them a little bit— which is something I like to do often. My mom is quite organized with her Google Calendar and she shared it with me awhile back. When I know I’m going that direction, I typically check it to see if they’ll be home. I pulled up their calendar and here is what I saw:

Now in hindsight, this seemed suspicious, but I am about as oblivious as they come. My first and only thought was, “why would I plan a party during his court of honor??” So, I went over to my parent’s house anyways. I texted my dad the screenshot and asked him what it was, though he did not respond. I asked my mom when I got there and she threw my dad under the bus immediately saying that it would have had more details if she put it in there (which is true). I asked my dad when he got back home and he played it off really well saying that perhaps I was throwing out dates for something and they put it on there. I could not remember doing that for the life of me, but it truly did not matter to me. I just thought it was a weird, funny thing, and I still had no idea what was about to go down.

I got in the car to drive to this Court of Honor and had to deal with my own thoughts. More about this when I eventually tell the beginning and the middle of this story, but these past two months have been really hard for me. Embarrassingly hard. Like geez dude, get over it already, but I know that’s not going to happen so easily.

I’m not ready...

… I kept saying as I thought about potentially running into my replacement at RSR there or other people who had roles in the events of the past two months. And, well… I was not ready. I didn’t have it in me to feign niceties. I did not have the capacity to act like it was all okay. It wasn’t okay.

To make matters worse, there was a community Christmas event that had closed off seemingly every road one would normally take to get to the church location where the COH would be held. This led to me circling the town of Mokena for 25 minutes more than I would have planned, which ended up making me about fifteen minutes late.

While looking for a way to get there, right at the start time, Kyle texts me to ask if I was going to make it. It’s unlike me to be late, so I was a little flustered and called him to ask which route he took. He said to go north on a street I was just on and knew was blocked off so I kept asking, “how did this get blocked off in between you and I arriving??” Anyways…

I finally get to the venue and try to slip in without being noticed. They are in the middle of the opening flag ceremony. I notice that one of our staff members was smiling real big while saluting the color guard.

Why is he smiling like that? It’s just flags. I think as I quickly slip in and sit down close to Andy, Kyle, and Catherine. I make a quick comment about the traffic as everyone is sitting back down, and I am still flustered. I hate being late. I am still a little flustered.

Ryker, the Eagle Scout to be honored, walks to the front, grabs the mic, and says:

“Hello everyone, and thank you all for coming tonight. I feel as if I must apologize because I know that Scouts are supposed to be trustworthy, and I fear we have not been very trustworthy about this event.”… Ryker’s a funny guy, so I’m waiting for some clever quip… “Because this event is not my Court of Honor. This is a night about Silas Rea…”

Everyone turns to look at me… I am confused. I give a nervous wave from my seat as people stand up and clap.

Ryker says they have some special guests with them and at least ten more people who they thought would have given it away walk into the room all wearing the same shirt…. A shirt that looks like Charli XCX’s brat album cover but instead of “brat” it has my name. Everyone else stands up and removes their Scout uniforms to reveal they’re all wearing the same shirts. I feel like I’m going to pass out.

“What the fuck is happening,” I say only slightly under my breath.

“What does it look like?” Kyle asks.

I have no idea. I think this is a weird bit he’s doing and I quietly hope we get back to the Court of Honor soon.

The next few minutes are a blur and my head doesn’t stop spinning the whole evening, but I start to put the pieces together. The room is suspiciously full of camp staff, several camp staff moms, and a few members of the Troop I just joined (more on that perhaps in another post). There’s at least fifty people there. While the room was convincingly set up for a Court of Honor, there seems to be a suspiciously low amount of things to do with Ryker in the room.

They call me up to the front and give me a unique but similar shirt of my own.

Two of my staff’s moms, whom I later learned were the original architects of this plan, go up to the front to speak at the microphone. My head is spinning so much, I don’t hear or remember every word. But what this all meant begins to dawn on me and I am immediately crying. One of them speaks and relates the lyrics of For Good from Wicked. The other speaks and shares this poem, You by Donna Ashworth:

If every single person who has liked you in your
lifetime were to light up on a map, it would create
the most glitteringly beautiful network you
could imagine. Throw in the strangers you’ve been kind
to, the people you’ve made laugh, or inspired
along the way and that star-bright web of you
would be an impressive sight to behold. You’re so
much more than you think you are. You have done
so much more than you realise. You’re trailing a
bright pathway that you don’t even know about.
What a thing. What a thing indeed.

They say more special guests have arrived right as my mom and dad walk in. Dad texts me back then and says, “It’s a party for you in Mokena.”

People take turns speaking at the microphone. All the people I love and respect: my fellow Key 3 members and staff members alike. They’re funny, they’re thoughtful, they all make me cry.

In the fall, when I was still planning on returning in my role to RSR, we filmed a promo video at camp spoofing Undercover Boss. Easily one of the best ideas I’ve had, and we had great material. One of our staff members had finished editing it despite my departure, and we watch it together. It’s a real testament to our bond, and I am glad we saw the finished product.

I am given the opportunity to speak to the group, and I choke on more words than I am able to get out… I tell them I never expected to be the Camp Director. I applied on a whim and never expected to be even called back about it. It was a really strange time in my life, and so when the opportunity came I took it. Why did I do it? I am deeply aware of how working at RSR has formed and shaped me as a person, and I wanted that to continue for each and every one of them. What I did was for the campers and Scouts, yes, but it was really for the staff.

I’ve told them that many times before, and I’ve always thought that I would never be able to say it enough times. Being here tonight showed me that they understood… I stumble over my words a bit more, but leave them with one last thought, that I’m not entirely sure is true but I sure hope it is:

“I have no regrets.”

After this, they have food for everyone. Every detail was perfect: they say these are Court of Honor table cloths so they take them off to reveal more brat themed decorations. They hit a Charli XCX playlist and serve food. They’ve gotten me my favorite meal from Chili’s, and there’s plenty of GF/DF options available. I continue to be overwhelmed. I learnt that plans for this event began almost minutes after I announced I would be stepping away, they told me they felt like they needed to do something. They immediately came up with the plan because, “he never misses a Court of Honor.”

As the night goes on, person after person comes up to me to share how much camp has meant to them. It reminds me of something my dad said to me a few months ago:

“What do you have left to prove? Your name is practically synonymous with RSR at this point.”

I share and record these things not to boost my own ego, but because I want to remember and I know we easily forget. I am my own worst enemy when it comes to self-doubt and I want this written down for when my own thoughts are telling me I should have been better or done things differently. Remember, this blog is for me.

“You made the work easier, the days more fun, and the whole experience better for everyone around you. Your leadership, your spirit, and your friendship have meant more than I can say.”

“If I were to stand her and convey every critical detail, every night and day Silas has fretted over camp, every jam he’s gotten us out of, and every opportunity he gave us, we would be here all night.”

“While you may not be Camp Director anymore, look around and see all the lives you have made better simply by being in them.”

“You made Camp what it is today. You made people want to be there.”

I tell someone I feel overwhelmed and my head is still spinning, she responds, “it’s like you made an impact on so many people and they chose to tell you that in a very loud way.” I am speechless.

There’s more fun— people dance to choreographed staff introduction songs and line dances from the past couple years. The air feels electric. Andy pulls out his guitar and gets everyone to circle up to sing the RSR Camp Hymn. Catherine thinks out loud, “this might be the last time we sing this together.”

Afterwards, several of us go to a bar around the corner and enjoy each other’s company over a non-zero amount of pitchers of beer. I learn that others may want to follow me in my next steps at a different camp in Montana. It’s not Rainbow, but maybe we will try anyways.

I am still overwhelmed with what happened on Saturday night. I can’t believe anyone would go to those great lengths to recognize me… It still does not feel real. It had to be a fever dream or something. The sheer amount of thought, effort, and care that went into every single detail continues to blow me away. These people know me and love me, and that was most certainly the timely reminder I needed.

I don’t know what to do from here with my life, and that scares me so damn bad. I’m still angry and feeling like something was stolen from me long before its time. The self doubt is still there. I am still mourning that which I wanted. Part of me thinks I made the best decisions I could. Part of me is in denial and thinks he’ll be pulling through the totem poles again next summer. Part of me is screaming, begging to go back to the best job he has ever known, with the best people he has ever known, in the best place he has ever known. RSR the past few years has biggest thing I have ever done. Is this it? It can’t be it.

What I did at RSR meant something. I know it did because it meant something to all of those people. There before me was the star-bright map: the proof that my effort was not for nothing. The promise that maybe it’ll all be okay. My legacy written on the hearts and minds of countless people. It doesn’t take the pain away, in fact it hurts so much worse after this night… That’s how I know it was real.

This was my staff. RSR was my camp.

I would do it all again.