I have a letter that was mailed. I got in the mail sometime ago. The man who wrote the letter does not want his name revealed on this

podcast but he's a 71 year old he describes himself as a good old boy a hillbilly from the back haulers of

Eastern Kentucky and he's got quite the resume he's got a lot of experience in

two or three different trades he He is a professional. He's not a, he's a formerly educated man and he tells me all that to say that he's credible. That, you know, someone's educational resume and even their

work resume is not necessarily an indication they're credible. However, you know, the Bigfoot stories are normally attributed to people like me, just average

guys, you know, rednecks living in Mississippi. I saw Bigfoot and so I think that's the point he's trying to get across and

so with all that said this is a long story and it's a long letter and I'm gonna read every word of it. It's very very good and I hope you enjoy it.

And since it is a letter you may hear some paper turning because I'm just going to flip the pages as I go and I probably want him to edit that out but it's really good so I'll shut up here we go

His first incident was June of 1964. He was 15 years old.

I was a 15 year old boy scout when our troop was taken to Carter Caves State Park in eastern Kentucky for a week of primitive camping.

One evening, after a day of carousing around, swimming, hiking, cave exploring, and loving to be wild young teenage boys,

we finally had a very late supper.

Afterward, we drove the chilly night away around our campfires, a large one for the

troops, and a second for the Scoutmaster and his assistant some 20 feet away.

Upon this scene, about 10 p.m. or so, arrived a Park Ranger on his nightly visit to our camp. He usually just looked us over, asked if we had any needs, and then he left. But this evening, he apparently had a couple of things on his mind.

Upon gathering up the scouts, the ranger said he was looking into an incident concerning one enterprising scout.

He said that he was told that the scout one enterprising scout.

He said that he was told that the scout was going down to the trading post at the bottom

of the mountain, buying up all the nickel candy bars during the day, coming back to camp and selling them after dark for a dime.

After being informed that doing such a dastardly thing to fellow scouts was wrong,

the culprit who was me was admonished for practicing my first

try at Free Enterprise.

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