Remembering Sheldon Priest and a moment in time

I found this plaque hanging in one of the cabins at the J.N. Webster Scout Reservation last week. Charlie and I were spending the day with the Cub Scouts, hiking, building fires, cooking food, and whittling.

I love things like this.

The plaque was apparently hung on the wall back in 1971 – the same year I was born – and honors a person named Sheldon Priest, presumably for his leadership and commitment to the campground and its staff.

It’s difficult to see in the photograph, but the names of more than 100 people are meticulously painted onto the wood.

Real effort and attention were put into the making of this plaque.

I like to wonder what kind of ceremony was planned for Sheldon Priest on the day it was presented to him. How did he feel? Was it a surprise? Were all the people listed on the plaque present at the time of the unveiling? Were speeches made? Tears in people’s eyes? Members of Priests’ family present?

I also like to wonder where all these people are today. Some have undoubtedly passed away, but for those still living, do they remember the plaque and the day they honored their leader and friend?

Does Sheldon Priest still remember?

Curious, I went looking for Sheldon Priest and sadly found his obituary. He died in 2010 at the age of 88, meaning he was 47 years old when this plaque was presented to him. His obituary states that he “was employed in various positions with Boy Scouts of America from 1960 until 1973 serving southern New England and PA regions.”

The camp still honors Priest to this day with the Kattywumpus Medal – named in honor of Former Camp Director Sheldon Priest – and awarded each week to a staff member who best exemplifies the qualities of a good scout.

I’m not sure how a Kattywumpus Medal is named in honor of someone named Sheldon Priest, but there is probably a story behind this oddity that is likely lost to the relentlessly eroding nature of time.

Priest gave 13 of his years to the Boy Scouts before apparently moving onto something else, but rather than taking this plaque with him when he left the Webster Scout Reservation, perhaps for a position somewhere in Pennsylvania, he decided to leave it hanging in the cabin where Charlie would learn about knife safety 51 years later.

As Charlie whittled alongside his fellow Scouts, I stared at the names, offering each a moment of my time, whispering each name aloud because I adore markers of the past. They are made and offered with love and respect, and they stand as monuments of moments in time that meant something important to people who have since moved on. They are reminders of the past, and I like to think they serve as reminders to us to memorialize the important moments of our time, too.

Markers like this are important and deserving of attention, even if they are hanging in the kitchen of a small cabin in the forests of Ashford, CT, probably forgotten by everyone listed on the plaque but now remembered by me, and now by you, too.