The doctor gave him until Christmas time. Then, one day there was a glimmer of hope in the darkness. Tommy’s cousin Tom Tripodi called one morning and told Tommy and his wife Barbara about an Indian healing ceremony. Skeptical at first, we began to learn more about the ancient art of healing ceremonies. We all warmed up to the idea, and Barbara took out several books on the subject. The decision had been toiled over, and finally made. Tommy was going to go through with it.

For they would be the ones who would truly heal. Each item had a specific meaning and purpose, and each order must be followed exactly. The day came closer and we were all very nervous. The ceremony was to take place at Baiting Hollow Boy Scout Camp. Everything was coming together and the next weekend the healing would take place. We were all anxiously awaiting the day. It finally arrived, and as my mom and I drove down the small, dirt, boy scout camp road, you could almost slice through the tension in the car. I walked up the path, my heart echoing the faint sound of a beating drum. As we came upon a clearing I began to feel nervous and a bit unsure. No one knew what to expect. Familiar faces came into view. Some were faces I hadn’t seen in years. We felt the urge to display our excitement, but we were told there was a sweat lodge nearby, and to resist the temptation. I wandered amongst the blur of faces saying hello to my large “extended family,” of life-long friends. I eventually found the man I was looking for.

Our reason for gathering in the sweltering heat. The common bond we all shared. Looking upon his withered body almost broke my heart. He looked frail, nothing but brittle bones beneath his skin. His head is nearly bald with

Some topics in this essay:
Scout Camp, SAD ESSAY, Keith Sean, Barbara Indian, Tommy Various, Tom Tripodi, boy scout camp, believe power, anxiously awaiting, scout camp, boy scout,