This is a story about saving a boy from the danger of the internet.
| Knock Knock…Who’s There?
A Short Story
By Frank Sperry
My Grandfather was against the idea of Home Schooling, except for the Computer part that my GranMom said he would have to be in charge of. It was not that he thought GranMom wasn’t smart enough to be a Home School teacher to me, but that he said he worried about whether my Home Schooling would have enough of what he called “structure” as he thought it did in first grade in the regular school last year. “It may have been structured”, my GranMom told him, “but he came very close to not getting promoted. With an IQ of 140, and at the same time having ants in his pants, Tyler is a very special seven year old, and he needs a special kind of education, that they don’t have the time to give him”.
Neither of my Grandparents asked me for my opinion when they were talking about whether I should start to be Home Schooled, but if they had I would have told them. I liked the idea of not having to be in the regular school. For one thing the teacher in first grade was a nice enough lady. She always asked somebody’s Mom or GranMom to bring in cup cakes whenever it was some kid’s birthday. We had a cup cake party one day out of almost every week. That part was sure OK. But sometimes she was like a lady who had just found out she had to baby-sit thirty kids at the same time and she sometimes got grouchy. I don’t blame her for that. We were all five or six and we were not babies, and she was not really a babysitter. I know that because when she got real grouchy with us and told us we must have all left our Angel wings at home, she had all thirty of us put our head on our desk while she yelled that she didn’t go to college to become a babysitter. She must have given up being a babysitter when she became a teenager and needed more time for boys, like my cousin Megan.
There was one other thing I didn’t like about the regular school I went to last year. A lot of the other kids were worse than grouchy. They were mean. They liked to see if they could get the kids that were different to cry. I was one of the different kids they liked to pick on and tease, even before they started on Jenny Ryan because she was fat. I was different because I wore glasses, which I didn’t think was any big deal, because some other kids did too. I think what really made them go for me in the schoolyard was because I had ants in my pants. I could leave my glasses in my backpack and not wear them, but there wasn’t much I could do about having ants in my pants. Both of my Grandparents said they were sure not willing to put me on drugs even before I might get on worse drugs myself when I got to High School.
So last week I started my Home Schooling and since then nobody saw any problems. The problem began to happen soon after we got into the Computer part, that my Grandfather and me worked on every Wednesday morning. I knew a lot about using the computer already, because my Grandfather showed me how to use his computer ever since right after I got potty trained. I think I was only one or two way back then. I’m not really sure. I only remember my GranMom telling me that diapers were not cheap.
Anyway, forget about diapers; I was telling you about the problem that began right after my Grandfather started teaching me computer things that I didn’t know yet. He said he thought I was old enough to learn about the Internet. The first thing he did was to get me my own E-mail address.
For my first lesson he showed me how to send an E-mail to the President. He told me not to expect to get back an answer right from the President himself because he said the President had somebody that worked for him read and take care of the E-mail he got. My Grandfather said that last year when the President took care of his own E-mail he got into some kind of trouble with a lady named Monica that worked for him in his office. I was curious but my Grandfather didn’t tell me what kind of trouble he got into. He only told me that E-mail could be a good or bad thing depending on who was sending the messages and what they were saying.
"I think I know what you mean”, I told my Grandfather. “It’s just like talking or listening to somebody. Talking is good, except like when Jimmy Driscoll is talking. He curses a lot and uses really bad words.”
"That’s right”, he said. “Some people on the Internet or people who send you E-mail are like Jimmy Driscoll. They use bad words. Even worse than that, sometimes they even want you to look at bad pictures”.
I knew what he meant but I didn’t say anything about the time Jimmy Driscoll showed me a picture he said he tore out of a magazine that his Dad kept under his mattress. It was a picture of two people with no clothes on, but I couldn’t understand what they were up to. Jimmy said he understood but he didn’t tell me. He said I needed to grow up. I was mad. I told him I was growing up as fast as God wanted me to, but that the devil was probably in charge of his growing up. I told him it was probably the devil that taught him how to curse.
Anyway, forget about Jimmy Driscoll. I was telling you about the E-mail and the President having to get somebody to read his and send back messages to stay out of trouble with ladies that worked in his office. I felt a little sorry for the President after I found out that some people you didn’t even know could send you E-mails and try to get you to do something that would get you in trouble if you did it.
When we were at the supper table last night I was telling my Grandfather about the E-mail I got from somebody that said "Happy Birthday. Here’s another present for you”.
"What are you talking about, Tyler?” my GranMom said. “Your birthday isn’t until May”.
"I know”, I told her, “I wondered who it was that got me mixed up with some other kid’s birthday. So that’s why I clicked on it to see who it was from and what it said."
“What did it say when you clicked on it?” my GranMom asked me.
"It said I could buy something with my credit card that would make my penis bigger” I told her.
I was not afraid to use the word penis, cause I had to learn some things about sex when I joined the Cub Scouts. Sexual abuse was one of the eight things I had to learn about to get my first badge right after I joined. It was part of the Bobcat trail.
My Grandfather heard me say the word penis and began to choke so hard I thought he was going to spit out his teeth.
"What did you click on that E-mail for?” he finally asked when he was sure his teeth were still inside his mouth. “Don’t you remember I told you that you should never open E-mail that came from somebody you didn’t know?"
"I didn’t know if it was from somebody I didn’t know”, I said, giving the only defense I could think of.
My GranMom was never thrilled with me being introduced to the subject of sex before I was old enough for biology in High School. She dropped her fork into her mashed potatoes and yelled “Oh my God. I was afraid he was too young for the Internet.”
My Grandfather looked at me as if I had just dropped a firecracker under his chair, but he didn’t say anything. He was pushing up on his teeth with his thumbs to be sure they were still stuck inside his mouth. Finally he was able to talk and said, “It could have been worse. It might have been a picture that automatically downloaded and opened. We’ve got some work to do, Tyler, for your next Computer lesson”
After another minute he added “Did you forget when we first got into E-mail that I told you that you might someday get an E-mail from a stranger?”
"Yes, I remember”, I answered. “I was supposed to say to myself ‘Knock Knock, Who’s There’ and if I didn’t know the person I would delete the E-mail and not let them come in to our computer”.
“Exactly” he said, sounding pleased that I had remembered now, but disappointed that I had forgotten then.
My GranMom had been quiet for the last few minutes. It could be that it took her a while to get over hearing the word penis at our dinner table. It wasn’t in our family supper talk dictionary. She looked at my Grandfather and said “I thought you said you would be able to protect him from things he was too young for if he learned to use the Internet?”
"I did”, he replied, “ I mean, I will. But it’s not easy. The Internet is like a guerrilla war. The bad guys often come disguised as good guys. I’ve set up Parental Controls, but they’re not good enough. You can’t filter out every devil in the world until you know his name, which by the way he often changes. But I’ll work out a better way to protect him. I’m not going to allow him to be deprived of an opportunity to communicate with the world just because there are some creeps out there who are capable of invading someone’s privacy, especially a child’s innocence.”
My GranMom and me just listened quietly to my Grandfather at times like this. Both of us knew his determination could be measured by how long he spoke and how often he tapped his finger on the table.
Finally, when he stopped talking, my GranMom said “ Well, I’m sure you will, but it’s got to be something better than ‘Knock Knock Who’s There’”.
My Grandfather spent the next week working on the computer. When I looked in on him I saw that whenever he was not typing on the keys, he was tapping on the computer desk. I knew when I saw him working that way that he would get to where he wanted to be.
Finally, one day he called me in to the computer room and pulled up the second chair in front of the computer and told me to sit beside him.
“Tyler, I think we’re ready for the final test”, he said, then he added “I want you to switch to your screen name and check to see if you have any new mail”.
I took hold of the mouse and clicked onto “switch names” at the top of the screen. As soon as I did I heard a voice inside the speakers say “You’ve got mail”.
“Now hold it right there”, my Grandfather said. “ I just want you to look for an e-mail that you can’t tell who it’s from. Do you see one?”
“Yes, I see one right there”, I said, pointing to the middle of the screen.
“Don’t click on it or it will open. Just highlight it and wait to see if anything happens”.
I did just as he told me. I highlighted the e-mail from someone I didn’t know.
I could see the subject of the message and it said “Be careful, Tyler, I am the devil”.
Just then I heard a voice through the speakers say “Knock Knock”.
My grandfather pulled a small microphone on the desk closer to me. “Ask him Who’s There” he told me.
It felt a little strange having a conversation with someone talking through the computer speakers. I didn’t know who it was but I could tell from the voice that it wasn’t the guy who always said, “You’ve got mail”.
I put my lips close to the microphone and asked whoever it was I was talking to “Who’s There?”
I pulled back right away. The voice came back and said, “I am one of many devils on the Internet. Are you going to let me into your computer?”
I looked at my Grandfather but he didn’t say anything or tell me what to say.
So I leaned forward and put my lips close to the microphone again and said “No way, Jose”. I had picked that expression up from a kid in first grade last year. He had told me that was a way of saying no when you wanted to let someone know you were really sure the answer was no, so don’t bother to ask again.
Just as soon as I had spoken into the microphone, the E-mail that had been highlighted disappeared from the screen.
“So far so good”, my Grandfather said. “But it’s got to be foolproof”.
“Do you see any other E-mail?” He asked.
“Yes, I see one that is from you, GranPop”.
“How can you be sure it’s from me?” he asked me.
“It’s got your E-mail name attached to it”.
“Maybe it’s somebody pretending to be me”.
“How would I know that”, I asked him.
“That’s what we’re going to find out”.
“Just highlight that E-mail like you did the one from the devil, but don’t click on it to open it."
I highlighted the E-mail that looked like it was from my Grandfather. Almost as soon as I did I heard the voice come from the speakers and say “Knock Knock”.
“Remember what you’re supposed to do next?” he asked me.
I put my lips up to the microphone and asked, “Who’s There?” Almost right away I heard the voice in the speakers say “You know who I am. I am your Grandfather”
I looked at my Grandfather sitting in the chair next to me, but still he didn’t give me a clue as to what I should do next. He seemed to want me to decide who to let in. Who to trust and who to turn away.
After I thought for a minute, I spoke into the microphone and said, “How can I be sure it’s really you behind this message and not someone who stole my Grandfather’s password?”
The voice in the speaker didn’t hesitate. It came back and said, “That’s for me to know and for you to find out”.
I was stumped by this smart-alecky, if it wasn’t my Grandfather. My Grandfather was smart, but he was no smart-alecky like Jimmy Driscoll. I looked at my Grandfather for a clue as to what I should do or say back to the voice in the speaker.
My Grandfather saw I was stumped and so he gave me a hint. “If it really is your Grandfather and not some devil who is pretending to be him”, he said, “ “You could ask him some question that only he would know the answer to”.
"Good idea”, I said. Then I thought for a minute and added “GranPop, there are a million questions he would know the answer to, and I wouldn’t even know what the questions were”.
"You’re right”, my Grandfather said. I mean the one sitting in the chair next to me. Not the one whose voice was inside the speaker. "Try asking him something that he told you just a day or two ago”.
“Okay, that’s easy.” I said. Then I leaned toward the microphone and said “Hello, person in the speaker who might be my Grandfather. Can you tell me where you were born?”
In a second, the voice said, “ I was born in Philadelphia, long before E-mail was invented”.
I turned to my Grandfather and said, “ I think it’s really you”.
“I think it is too”, he said, “No devil would ever admit to being born in Philadelphia, or being older than E-mail. I think the voice gave you a good enough password”.
I knew what I should do next. I clicked on the highlighted E-mail, it opened and it said:
“Congratulations, Tyler, you have passed your E-mail protection test”.
I don’t think I was ever so proud of my Grandfather as when I read his E-mail. My Grandfather was a computer wizard and he was only seventy-one. He had told me before that after he retired and every day was Saturday for him he got interested in the computer and taught himself how to do programming. He had written this computer program for me that I’m not sure many other people would have been able to do. I could hardly wait to tell my Cub master about it at our next Pack meeting. Mister B. was our Cub Master. He was a computer person himself. He worked at the University and he was always on the lookout for things that the Scouts could teach kids that would help them.
After I had shut down the computer my Grandfather and I talked for a while about why some people would want to send E-mail messages to little kids with words in them that little kids weren’t supposed to use. My Grandfather told me that some people in the world were sick and not happy with being sick by themselves and so they wanted to see if they could make other people sick too. It sounded a little like Jimmy Driscoll. He cursed a lot but he never seemed to be happy using bad words, so he wanted to get other kids to curse too so he wouldn’t be different. I tried to tell him it was no sin to be different, but he only cursed me and walked away.
The next Monday night my Grandfather and I went to the Cub Scout Meeting at our church. We were sitting at one of the tables waiting for the meeting to start when I saw Mister B.. He waved at me and I called him over to give him the handshake and to tell him about my Grandfather’s E-mail program.
“Mister B.”, I said to him, “This is my Grandfather”.
“Yes, I know Tyler”, Mister B. said, “ I met your Grandfather the night he brought you to sign you up. Nice to see you again, Sir”.
Mister B. was a grown-up but he must have learned from being around kids so much to always call someone “Sir” when you didn’t know their name.
"My Grandfather wrote a computer Program to keep me safe on the Internet. It talks to you through the speakers so you can figure out who the bad guys are”, I told him.
Mister B. looked impressed. “I’d like to hear more about that. Maybe we could talk about it when you have time”.
Time was usually what my Grandfather had a pocketful of. “Sure thing. Anytime”, my Grandfather said. I went off to meet with the other kids in my Den, and looked back to see My Grandfather and Mister B. sitting at the table and talking.
"What did you and Mister B. talk about, GranPop?” I asked him on the ride home.
"Oh, he was very interested in Knock Knock Who’s There. He said he had two boys of his own and he often thought about better ways to keep them safe on the Internet. He invited me to have lunch with him someday at the University to talk about it some more”.
"If you have lunch with him at the University can I come with you, GranPop?”
“Sure you can. Do you think GranMom would want me to go anywhere without you. She’ll think of some way to call it a home-school field trip”.
When my Grandfather and I walked into the University Cafeteria that they called the Hawk’s Nest, we saw Mister B. waving to us from a table where he was already sitting. My Grandfather waved back at him and we went through the food line to pick up a sandwich and chocolate milk for me and a salad for my Grandfather.
At the table where Mister B. was sitting, he stood up as we got there. “Nice to see you again, Sir” he said as we sat down.. “I’m glad you brought Tyler along with you. I wanted to ask him if the program was easy enough for cub scouts to use”.
I jumped right in to the question and said “It’s very easy to use. The only thing a kid may need help with is putting in the secret questions and answers that let you know that the E-mail is from a good guy”.
My Grandfather said “He’s talking about asking a secret question that let’s you know the message is from someone you know”.
I couldn’t wait to make it even easier to understand and said “ I ask my Grandfather where he was born and he comes back and says ‘Philadelphia’”.
“What if the message is from somebody else and you don’t know where they were born?” Mister B. asked.
I looked at my Grandfather to have him answer, cause I wasn’t sure how to.
"You always have to have a prearranged question and answer with the friend. There has to be a kind of password that they give to let you know it’s OK to open their E-mail”, my Grandfather told him.
“That doesn’t sound like it would be too hard to set up a Q & A password for whoever you wanted to let get past the gate”, he said.
"The only thing is it would have to be the same question each time like ‘Can you tell me where you were born’ because if you asked a different question for each E-mail you wouldn’t be able to match up the person with their answer”.
“I see that’s why that would be necessary” Mister B. said. “If you asked him where he went to school he would come back and tell you where he was born if that was the secret password you put in when you set up his gate pass”.
“That’s neat” Mister B. said. “It’s the same thing you do when you send someone money through Western Union. You have a prearranged question and answer to make sure only the person with the right answer is the one who is able to pick up the money. I needed to do that sometimes when I had to have my Dad send me money through Western Union and I needed emergency money when I was in College”.
I munched on my sandwich while the two of them continued talking.
"Did you know I teach Computer Programming here at UNC?” Mister B. asked him. “ Visual Basic and a few other program languages”. I remember you telling me that your Program is written in Visual Basic. I’m quite impressed that you had the patience to teach yourself VB. Did you find it difficult?”
"It just took one book from the library and a lot of hours in front of the computer”, my Grandfather told him.
"My Grandfather’s amazing. Isn’t he Mister B.?” I chimed in not wanting to be left entirely out of the conversation.
My Grandfather seemed to be embarrassed with my comment and plunged into his salad looking for a reason to be silent.
Mister B. spoke again. “I’ve talked to a gentleman at the Cape Fear Council who is in charge of new Programs and Activities. I told him about the computer program you wrote for Tyler. He said it sounded very much like something the BSA would be interested in knowing more about”.
I wasn’t sure my Grandfather understood all the acronyms we use in the Scouts so I quickly added “Bee Ess Ay stands for Boy Scouts of America”.
"Have you ever thought about selling the rights to your Program?”.
"I hadn’t thought about it at all”, my Grandfather told him. “But I’m sure I wouldn’t want to sell the Program to the Boy Scouts or any one else”.
Mister B. looked a little disappointed.
My grandfather continued speaking. "If the Boy Scouts thought it would help kids like Tyler to be safe on the Internet I would be glad to just give it to them”. He hesitated for a few seconds, then he added “They would have to pay for the postage to send it to as many kids as they wanted to. I wouldn’t be able to afford to pay for the postage”.
"There are more than six million members of the Boy Scouts in the United States and more than twenty-five million worldwide”, Mister B. told my Grandfather. “I think they can afford to pay the postage”.
My Grandfather told my GranMom about the meeting with Mister B. at the University and she seemed pleased that I was there too. She said she would record it as a meeting to discuss “Keeping kids safe on the Internet”.
The next week My Grandfather called Mister B. and invited him to come over to our house to see how the Program worked when I checked my E-mail. Mister B. arrived just after supper and the three of us went to the computer room to show Mister B. what my Grandfather had done about my E-mail.
To say the least Mister B. was even more impressed to see the program working on our Computer than he had been just hearing about it.
When we were finished my Grandfather must have wanted to impress Mister B. with my computer skills. He let me make a copy of the Program on a floppy disk, which I did, and I gave it to Mister B. He thanked both me and my Grandfather. Before he left he told my Grandfather that he would probably be hearing from someone at the Cape Fear Council in Wilmington or maybe even from someone at the BSA headquarters in Texas.
The next time we heard anything it was from Mister B. at our next Pack meeting.
"Guess what”, he began. "You and Tyler are going to be famous. Word about your Program went all the way to Texas like it was a lightning flash. The BSA is going to make it available to any of their members who want it. It will become part of the Member benefits."
My Grandfather listened and seemed please that there was no mention that he would have to pay the postage to send it to as many as six million kids.
By next month a half a million copies will be distributed and available for pick up at meetings all over the United States.
I couldn’t resist jumping in to the conversation. “If it’s picked up by the kids at their meeting there won’t even be any postage”. I was sure my comment would get that concern out of my Grandfather’s head once and for all.
Mister B. nodded his head to show he agreed with me and then he continued. "I was also told that next month there will be a full page ad in Boys Life Magazine, announcing that the program is available at no cost to any member of the scouts who wants it. Distribution in the next two months could reach 3 to 4 million."
"My Grandfather’s amazing. Isn’t he Mister B.?”
“Yes he is Tyler. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he is invited to the National Conference in New York in the Fall to be given some kind of award”.
"Wow”, I said. "New York. That would surely have to be a home-school field trip for me. Maybe they would let my Grandfather jump over all the other stuff and go right to being made an Eagle Scout”.
On the way home from the Pack meeting I didn’t say much. I was thinking about the Home-school field trip in New York. We might even meet Rudee Guliageronomo. My Grandfather told me once that he didn’t have many favorite politicians after both Kennedys were killed, but Rudee Guliageronomo was one of his few favorites. My Grandfather was quiet too. He was probably thinking how it would feel to be a seventy-one year old Eagle Scout, who went right to the head of the line for one great thing he had done for millions of kids.
The next day Mister B. called my Grandfather and told him he needed to come by and talk about the program. I heard my Grandfather telling my GranMom that Mister B. had told him there was some kind of problem with the Program. He said something about a bug that we had to find and fix before the program got installed on millions of computers.
When Mister B. arrived later that night I followed them into the computer room and listened to what Mister B. was telling my Grandfather.
“I kept a copy of the program that I gave to the Council and yesterday I installed it on my Computer. When I ran a test with my sons, something seems to have gone wrong”. Mister B. seemed puzzled. “I saw it work on your Computer the way it is supposed to. I don’t know what happened when I installed it on my computer. As soon as any E-mail is highlighted a voice comes through the speakers and says ‘Knock Knock’ like it’s supposed to. But then before anyone has a chance to say ‘Who’s There’ the Highlighted E-mail is deleted.”
"Are you sure?” my Grandfather asked.
"Yes, I’m sure. I tried it for more than an hour. I kept sending friendly E-mails to my son, but they were all deleted as soon as they were highlighted”.
My Grandfather called up my E-mail screen on our Computer and tried it out. It worked perfect. Just the way it was supposed to.
"Somehow”, Mister B. said "There’s a bug in the program that was copied onto a floppy that night I was here last time”.
“The devil must have figured out how to put a bug in it so it wouldn’t work right”, I said.
“I don’t understand why a bug isn’t in the version that is installed on our computer”, my Grandfather said.
"Since we know your program is working the way it’s supposed to, there must be some difference between that one and the one I passed to the Council and which I also installed on my Computer”. Mister B. continued speaking. “I brought the floppy disk with the program I got from you that night”.
“That’s good”, my Grandfather said “The first thing we can do is check the size of each file”
Mister B. gave him the floppy disk and my Grandfather put it in the disk drive and clicked on it.
"It shows that it is 21,585 bytes”, he said. “Now let’s check the program that is installed on this Computer. He called up the program on our computer that was called ‘Knock Knock Who’s There’. “Very interesting. This file is 26,638 bytes. They are definitely not the same. It’s very possible that the version that was copied to the floppy was not the final version”
"We’ve got to find the difference between the two and then make a patch for the earlier version”, Mister B. said.
“You’re right”, my Grandfather said. “I’ll have to check the source code, line by line”.
“I can help you with that if you need me to”, Mister B. said.
“I think I can do it OK, Mister B.” my Grandfather told him. “I’m the one who made this mess. I need to be the one to fix the problem”.
I couldn’t hold back from saying what had been on my mind all the while the two of them had been talking. “GranPop, maybe I’m the one who made the mess. When you let me make the copy for Mister B. that first night he was here I might have copied the wrong version”.
“If you did Tyler, it’s not exactly your fault. We’ll put that down in our “lessons learned’ book. I should have remembered to add a line to all earlier versions so that they couldn’t accidentally be copied as the final version”.
“That’s a neat trick”, Mister B. said. “I’ll have to remember that”. My Grandfather looked up at him, winked and said “Some things I taught myself weren’t in the book I got from the library”.
After I showed Mister B. to the door I came back to the computer room where I looked in and saw my Grandfather staring at a bunch of gibberish on the screen, all the while he was tapping on the desk. I knew it would just be a matter of time before the devil would be back in his box.
I didn’t see much of my Grandfather for the next three days. Right after breakfast each morning, even before I started my schoolwork, he was at the computer working on his job of finding the bug. “Once I find the bug, making the fly swatter will be the easy part”, he told me when he came in to my room to take a break.
Mister B. called every night to find out how he was doing. I used to get my reports second hand, since he kept my GranMom up to date as to what was going on. She told me that Mister B. gave him some good news about the program. It seems that the BSA headquarters had tested the program and had put a hold on making it available when the test showed it didn’t work the way it was supposed to.
I found out later from Mister B. that the BSA must have got a lot of free software programs that had a virus in it that some sick devil was trying to get put in to millions of computers. They had to be careful so they tested everything that was given to them to be sure it was not infected with a virus. When they tested my Grandfather’s program it didn’t have a virus in it. It just didn’t work the way it was supposed to.
Mister B. told my Grandfather that since the buggy program had not been distributed to any one yet, there would be no need to find the bug and kill it with a patch.. All that had to be done was to throw away the bad program the BSA was given and use the good one that could be copied from our computer and which worked the way it was supposed to.
My Grandfather kept right on working to fix the bad program anyway. When he tapped his finger long enough, there was no bug on earth that could hide from him forever.
It took about two more nights and about five cups of coffee each night, but I finally heard my Grandfather on the phone telling Mister B. that he could come by any time he was ready and get a patch for the program on his computer that didn’t work. He told him he could also get a good copy of the program that he could pass on to the BSA headquarters to be tested.
Next month Mister B. introduced my Grandfather at our Pack meeting and told the audience that it was expected that nearly five million copies of ‘Knock Knock Who’s There’ would be distributed. He also told everyone that my Grandfather had sold his E-mail protection program to the Boy Scouts of America for the huge sum of one dollar.
There was no mention of them nominating my Grandfather to be an Eagle Scout, but there was a mention in the last issue of Boy’s Life Magazine that he had been invited to receive one of their highest awards to be given at the National Conference of Scouts to be held in October in New York City.
As soon as she had heard about it, my GranMom had decided that she and I were going along with my Grandfather to attend that Conference. She told me she was afraid that his head would get so big that his eyes would be squinty and he might get lost in the Big Apple. But the truth is he admitted to me that he was embarrassed to be getting any kind of award, but he agreed right away that he would go when he found out that the keynote speaker was going to be Rudee Guliageronomo.