The Ghost of Christmas Past
The ever thought provoking Snuffy is back again with a post about bumping into a former pupil in the supermarket and the wave of emotion that brought out in her. And it got me thinking about all the kids that have passed through my hands over the years. They must number in the hundreds somewhere, and that's just the regulars. Those who I've dealt with fleetingly, filling in at their groups, or camped next to at a jamboree would stretch to thousands.
I wonder how many of those hundreds remember me? I would like to say I remember everyone of them, but I'm sure I don't. I certainly remember a hell of a lot of them. I still have a photo on my wall of the group I was a leader with at uni, and what a bunch of characters they were! I still have all the presents and cards that my current lot have given me over the years, at Christmas, at the end of camp, when they've moved on to older sections. Even when the names escape me I still remember the loud one, the quiet one, the bright one, the comedian, the shy one, the adventurous one, the happy one, the twins, the brothers, the sisters. Do they remember me? I hope they do. I hope they remember the adventures we had together. I hope they remember the first night away from their parents, the first time they cooked for themselves, the first time they abseiled or canoed or fell in a river, got soaking wet through on a hike.
Most of all I hope they remember how proud they all made me.
Where are they all now? Some of them may be married and have kids, some will be at uni. Are they successful? Are they happy? Did I help them in any way?
I guess like Snuffy the day will come when I'll find out. Till then, I wish everyone of them all the luck and love in the world.