The boys have returned from their excellent adventure that was the National Scout Jamboree. They were supposed to attend the 2020 event, which was canceled because of the pandemic. Since the very first scheduled Jamboree was postponed because of the polio outbreak, this felt kind of historic, but also traditional.

We’d been fundraising for almost two years to make sure their expenses were covered. It really has been five full years that we’ve been working toward this trip, and to see those buses finally pull out of the parking lot was a great feeling.

It was impossible to prepare for this without thinking of both Steve and my dad the entire time. My dad earned his Eagle Scout rank in 1958. Along the way, he attended camp at the legendary Philmont Ranch in New Mexico. This trip significantly impacted the rest of his life, from the wanderlust it inspired, to the leadership lessons he learned, to the Philmont belt and buckle that he wore every day for the rest of his life. Well, the belt had to be replaced several times, but he always managed to find a group of Scouts or leaders in his circle who were making the trip out there who could bring him a new belt. He made one last pilgrimage to Philmont himself just a few years before he died.

When A traveled to Chicago last year for the World Leadership Conference of HOBY, I saw the impact that a meeting with like-minded, and yet unique, individuals could have on him, and I expected a similar experience from the Jamboree. My expectations for G were, well, let’s just say they were different. I knew, if nothing else, he would embrace the adventure side of things. He and Steve had already talked extensively about the gear he would need, and Steve and I had planned to make these larger investments in things like sleeping bags and tents as part of Christmas and birthday presents over the years leading up to the event. Steve didn’t need much of an excuse to invest in outdoor gear of any kind, and he wanted the boys to “be prepared” for anything that they might encounter.

Even though I’d been after the boys to lay their stuff out, and multiple packing lists had been provided months ago, the day before they had to leave was still full of “do you know where my ... is” and “do you know where Dad kept the ...?” I tried very hard to keep my patience in check and my temper at a low boil, because ultimately, they needed to learn to get their act together, they’d be down there with at least 13 other boys who were all sharing the same campsite, and if worse came to worse, there was a camp store where they could obtain just about anything they really needed in a pinch. This needed to be a “live and learn” experience for them from start to finish.

If you’re not familiar with a Scout Jamboree, it’s a national gathering of Scouts, which usually happens every four years. It takes place at the Summit Bechtel Reserve in West Virginia. This is an opportunity for the scouts to come together to share experiences and showcase their accomplishments. Hundreds of different organizations and companies, and all branches of the military, hold exhibitions and distribute information. There are speakers from all different walks of life. I got a text from A that I should quickly check out the livestream of a speech given by a Medal of Honor winner. Afterward, A was able to spend a few moments talking with him.

This is also a chance for Scouts to try many new activities, with the help of trained advisers and instructors. One of the few messages I got from G all week was “I am awesome at skateboarding.” Now, this could not possibly be true, as he’s never skateboarded a day in his life before this trip. I was mildly nervous that he was going to come home with yet another expensive hobby and that we’d have to build a half-pipe next to the boat lawn ornament. A few hours later, he sent me another video, graciously taken by one of his friends. This one showed him falling repeatedly going down the tiniest ramp. I suspect that one day he might rue all those knocks to his back and elbows, but he seemed both to enjoy himself and determined to master at least the basics.

The boys white water rafted, hiked for miles every day, and ate a copious amount of bean and cheese dip. At least I saw dozens of pictures of cartons of each being delivered to the campsites. I got daily updates and photos from A, which I later found out was part of a scavenger hunt requirement to earn a patch, and not necessarily out of the goodness of his heart, but I was glad to see him enthusiastic and having a great time.

Most days, I was reduced to scanning the online photos or friends’ shares to get pictures of G, but when I did find them, I also saw him having fun. If I was lucky, I got a nightly text “gn m” which I eventually figured out stood for “goodnight mum.” Nowhere in the Scout Law does it say that a scout is grammatically proficient, so I can’t be too upset.

They were happy to get home. Ten days with a pack of teenagers can get a little old. (Ask me how I know that.) On the bus ride home, I finally got some pictures from G. He was overjoyed with their stop at the Golden Corral, and its buffet of mac and cheese and wings. After eating camp rations for more than a week, it must have felt like a gourmet meal.

I heard a few more stories on the ride home, and their adventures continued to crop up in conversation, but mostly, the boys seem to be satisfied that they’ve done it and ready to move on to the next adventure. It’s not quite like I put little boys on the bus and got men off it, but they both have a new layer of independence and confidence. A also has a new scout belt, complete with a buckle.

Liz Pinkey is a contributing columnist who appears weekly in the Times News.