A Scout Week in the North Country: What Hasn't Changed

I guess I've been feeling really unsettled lately.

I know I've written about it before, and it just keeps coming up. Some things take a little longer to work through than others. It's not something that once I write about it, it's over. It's still here.

I think one of the things I've really been wrestling with is something that I have to stare at every single day because of my job.

Part of what I do is help people become more visible online while trying to understand and navigate all of the major changes happening in our world. One of the things that comes up is understanding and navigating the impacts of artificial intelligence, specifically in how businesses are discovered.

I've already written about it. I'm hosting a webinar next Wednesday to talk about it with local business owners. But the truth is, it's scary to me. It's unsettling.

Suddenly, the visibility of our existence is relying on something that isn't human.

To be honest, I think I've spent the past few months living more out of fear than out of love.

That is not particularly easy for me to admit.

I've noticed it showing up in ways I don't especially like. More time spent worrying about what might happen. More time trying to predict the future. More time looking for answers that nobody seems to have yet. The reality is that we're all trying to understand this at the same time that we're living through it.

And while I don't think fear is the right word every moment of every day, I do think it has been sitting quietly in the background of a lot of my thinking lately.

It keeps me up at night.

So I feel like the universe knew that I needed some help.

Having Dick Bielefield on North of Normal this week was no accident.

What a joy it was to sit down across from someone who has seen so much change. Way more than I have. Someone who has been through almost a century of life.

He talked about Pearl Harbor and remembering the day his mother called him inside to hear the news. He talked about listening to the Russians during his time in the Navy and not understanding what he was hearing, but writing it down anyway and being part of something bigger than himself. He talked about hiking, skiing, public service, and the many twists and turns that eventually brought him to Sugar Hill.

As we talked, I found myself thinking about how much change one person can witness in ninety-eight years.

The world Dick was born into doesn't exist anymore.

The world he grew up in doesn't exist anymore.

The world he entered as a young man doesn't exist anymore.

And yet there he sat. Steady. Grounded. Present.

Talking with Dick for an hour wasn't enough. There were a hundred more questions I could have asked him. But what stayed with me wasn't any particular story. It was the feeling of sitting across from someone who has witnessed tremendous change throughout his lifetime without allowing that change to shake the foundation of who he is.

Near the end of our conversation, I asked him what advice he would give younger people.

His answers weren't complicated:

Tell the truth.

Don't take yourself too seriously.

And then there was the third piece of advice he shared.

"If you have to beat yourself up to go to work every morning, you'd better find another job."

What I heard in that was the importance of finding joy. The importance of doing something that gives you a reason to get up every day.

Then, as if the universe wanted to put a cherry on top, I found myself with Troop 209 in Littleton less than forty-eight hours later.

I had actually been invited over a month ago, but because of illness, I had to postpone. This was the week we finally made it happen.

There were about ten scouts ranging in age from eleven to fifteen. Most were boys. One was a girl. They showed up in uniform. We introduced ourselves. We raised the flag and said the Pledge of Allegiance.

Then I stood there and listened as they recited the Scout Oath with their right hands in the air.

I was so touched by what they were saying.

In fact, after they finished reciting the oath and before we started talking about communication, I asked them what it was they had just recited. I told them I was going to look it up when I got home because I thought it was so beautiful.

The part that impacted me most was this:

"On my honor I will do my best to do my duty to God and my country and to obey the Scout Law; to help other people at all times; to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight."

It was so meaningful to see and hear these young people making a commitment like that.

I don't know if, at this point in their lives, they fully realize what they're saying. When you're eleven, twelve, thirteen, or fifteen years old, your understanding is naturally filtered through a much shorter life experience than someone who is ninety-eight. That doesn't mean they don't understand it. It just means it's different.

And they probably say those words every week. I'm sure sometimes they’re on autopilot.

But I was hearing them for the first time. And it moved me.

I think it moved me even more because I had just spent the previous day with someone who had lived that oath. Not recited it. Lived it.

As I stood there listening to those scouts, I couldn't stop thinking about Dick.

One day earlier, I had been sitting across from a man who spent more than forty years involved in Scouting. A man who has spent decades serving his community, helping others, showing up, and staying engaged. A man who, at ninety-eight years old, is still mentally sharp, still curious, still involved, and still willing to spend an hour talking with a stranger on community radio.

Suddenly, I wasn't just hearing the words.

I was seeing what they can look like over the course of a lifetime.

The scouts were at the beginning of the journey.

Dick is ninety-eight years into his.

And somehow, despite everything that has changed between those two points in time, the values were exactly the same.

That is the part I haven't been able to stop thinking about.

For months now, I've been focused on everything that is changing.

Technology is changing.

The way people search is changing.

The way businesses are discovered is changing.

The world feels like it's changing faster than ever.

Maybe that's why this week hit me so hard. In the middle of all of that uncertainty, I had just witnessed something that hasn't changed.

I think I’ve forgotten that there is always something that remains unchanged that we can hang on to. I think I've spent so much time looking ahead at what might be coming that I stopped paying attention to what has always been here.

Not everything is changing.

Honesty isn't changing. Service isn't changing. Character isn't changing. The commitment to helping other people isn't changing.

I spent one day with a man who has spent nearly a century living those values and another day with a group of young people just beginning to learn what those values mean.

What a gift. I needed that reminder and that hope.

The truth is, we won't ever have the certainty that the future will somehow become less complicated, nor the certainty that all of these changes will suddenly slow down.

But we can be certain of this: there are still things sturdy enough to build a life on.

And somehow, realizing that immediately washes away the fear.

No matter what changes around us, there is always something that remains unchanged that we can hang on to.

-Amanda

---

About Clear View Advantage

Clear View Advantage is a New Hampshire-based digital marketing and online reputation management firm focused on helping businesses stay visible, trusted, and easy to find in a rapidly changing online landscape. From local SEO and Google Business Profile optimization to review management, business listings management, and AI search visibility strategy, Clear View Advantage helps businesses adapt to how customers search today while building a strong foundation for tomorrow.