feature image via shutterstock
It’s time for another edition of SE(N)O, an essay series on A+ for personal stories we wish we could tell on the accessible-to-our-employers-and-everyone-we’ve-ever-known mainsite, but can’t for personal and professional reasons.
When I was seven years old, my parents, thinking they were trying to raise a young boy into a man, signed me up for Cub Scouts. It was there that I learned how to whittle a bar of soap into the shape of a whale, how to walk old ladies across the street and how to stop acting like such a little girl.
The scout troop I was in was run through the Catholic Church, and I guess they thought it was more important that we learned how to be Men of God than how to pitch a tent or ...
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