If it had been up to me, I would’ve spent all my free time during childhood playing sports or writing. But in the interest of making me well-rounded, my parents encouraged me to try new and different things. “Encouraged,” I should say, is a generous term. Rather, I was signed up for an activity, typically with a brief consultation beforehand so that there would be no surprises. As you may recall from prior blogs, I am not a person who cares for surprises.
One night when I was in third grade, my mother made good on her “no surprise rule.”
“Tomorrow,” she began, “you will be going to Mrs. L’s house after school. She’s the troop leader for the Brownies.” I vaguely remember having a discussion with my mother several weeks prior about whether I would be interested in becoming a Brownie. I reluctantly agreed, hoping the “scout” component meant sports. Truthfully, I knew little to nothing about the Brownies. I was aware that a tan uniform with a sash was involved, and the group met monthly. I secretly hoped the official snack served at Brownies meetings were, in fact, brownies.
Soon enough, I would learn all that I needed to know about being a Brownie. And it turns out, it wasn’t quite for me. Which brings me to today’s life lesson: when you’re exposed to new things, try and approach that experience with an open mind. You never know what you might like until you try it. As in, really try it. And while I’m not advocating being a quitter, sometimes, a situation just isn’t a good fit.
Here’s my story…
Scout it out loud
I recall being hesitant about joining the Brownies based on what my older sister did as a Girl Scout. There were so many projects involving macaroni and/or yarn. I mean, I was OK with arts and crafts in small doses. But given the choice, I would be happier running around outside.
On paper, the Brownies could’ve been amazing. According to the Girl Scouts USA website: “Brownies learn how the world works, fall in love with the great outdoors, and share their interests—from bugs to ballet—with a small group of true friends. Along the way, Brownies try and explore new things, gain important social skills, and, of course, have a blast.” Sounded good to me, except for the ballet part.
Unfortunately for me, I had a different experience.
The troop leader for my local Brownies unit was Mrs. L. The L’s lived on the corner lot at the end of our block. They had a modest dark brown house with an even more modest yard. Sadly, the L’s yard and driveway had become the de facto bus stop for all the children who lived on Tanglewood Drive.
The L’s also had a small, forever-barking dog who must’ve gone bananas with the kids invading his turf every weekday morning. Mrs. L was rarely seen but could often be heard yelling at the dog to shut up.
At least joining the Brownies meant I got to see inside the L’s house.
Your best guest
I knew from the few Mrs. L sightings that she was a petite woman. She didn’t seem overly warm, nor did she display any sense of humor.
Needless to say, I was intimidated by Mrs. L before I’d even met her.
When it was time for the first meeting, I eagerly knocked on the front door. I was escorted inside by one the L’s daughters (I didn’t know which one, since there were four girls). As I took in the surroundings, my mind was working overtime. Extensive collection of beer mugs. A lot of knitted items. But, a pleasant enough house overall.
I was careful not to touch anything as we waited in the minimally furnished meeting area. The L’s probably removed all their “good stuff” just in case.
Once we reached quorum—which I believe was five girls plus myself—Mrs. L began the meeting. I tried my best to keep an open Brownie mind.
Then things got interesting.
Sounds promising
Mrs. L announced that we’d start the meeting by forming a Brownie Scout Ring. She could’ve just said “sit in a circle.” We continued with the Pledge of Allegiance. Thankfully, I knew the Pledge well; we recited it at the start of every school day.
Once we said the Pledge of Allegiance, Mrs. L announced we were going to learn the Girl Scout Promise. I’ll admit I was skeptical that I had to promise something so early on in my Brownie career. But, I had vowed that I would keep an open Brownie mind, and so I tried not to judge.
I paid close attention as Mrs. L had us raise the three fingers of our right hand starting with the pointer finger.
“Hold those fingers high,” Mrs. L said. She explained that our three fingers represented the three parts of the Girl Scout Promise. “Now repeat after me: On my honor, I will try to serve God and my country, to help people at all times, and to live by the Girl Scout Law.”
Mrs. L then asked each of us to recite the Promise on our own. By the time she’d reached me (I was number five of the six girls), I had successfully memorized the Promise. Mrs. L smiled a tight smile of approval.
After explaining some of the activities that we were going to do as Brownies—such as baking, hiking, and something called community service—it was time to hand out the uniforms.
Acting sash-y
Right off the bat, I wasn’t all that into the uniform. For starters, it was a tan dress. Not pants. Not shorts. A dress. For the entirety of my childhood (and perhaps a portion of my adulthood), I wasn’t a fan of wearing dresses; definitely not ones with sashes. Mrs. L explained that we would earn badges over the course of our Brownie journey. And that we were expected to sew those badges onto our sash. By ourselves.
Even though I’m fairly achievement-oriented, the thought of having to sew wasn’t all that inspiring to me. But, again, I had to keep an open Brownie mind.
After singing some songs and working on a macaroni-based arts and crafts project, the meeting concluded with a small snack of cookies and a glass of juice. I was disappointed that brownies weren’t served. Mrs. L told us to come back the following month for our next troop meeting.
And so it went for a few months. I didn’t enjoy the arts and crafts projects. I didn’t like the singing out loud. Nor was I particularly ambitious about earning badges. Over the course of three months, I had acquired a small handful of badges, one of which was a “free” badge you got just for joining the Brownies.
And then came the community service project.
Talking trash
For our troop’s fourth meeting, Mrs. L announced that our community service project would be a neighborhood cleanup. That’s odd, I thought to myself. Our quiet neighborhood was already fairly clean. Sure, a couple houses had a few weeds. But overall, there wasn’t any part of our development that stuck out as being dirty. Still, I was keeping an open Brownie mind about the project.
Then Mrs. L took the cleanup project a step further. “We’ll be picking up discarded grass clippings, and any other detritus located between Thirteen and Fifteen Tanglewood Drive.” Wait. What? That was two houses down from my house!
Even worse, I knew of the discarded grass clippings spot that Mrs. L was speaking about. It was the number one spot in the neighborhood for animals to go number two. That’s what we’re going to clean up?
Almost immediately, my open Brownie mind shut. I wasn’t going to pick up dog poop and broken glass. I’d need to tell my mother about this immediately. I also thought this was a good time to tell her I really didn’t want to be a Brownie anymore.
As soon as the meeting ended (with cookies and juice; still no brownies being served), I rushed home.
I prayed my mother’s open Brownie mind would similarly shut.
I’m pooped
As I explained the project in all of its disgusting detail to my mother, I saw her expression shift. A lifelong germophobe, my mother was not supportive of her daughter mucking around in the grass clippings. That was exactly where our neighbor’s dog, Ginger, enjoyed leaving her mark.
The challenge for us then became how could I gracefully back out of the community service project. My mother decided she would telephone Mrs. L to let her know I was unavailable on the day of the garbage pickup. Mrs. L expressed her great disappointment in my lack of participation. I’m sure she probably had a few choice words about my lackluster enthusiasm for badge acquisition as well.
After Mrs. L’s icy reaction, my mother retreated from her stance that I needed to keep an open Brownie mind. We quietly agreed that I would stay inside the house during the community service project, then tactfully withdraw from being a Brownie at a later time.
At four o’clock on the day of the garbage pickup, I hid in my bedroom. But I couldn’t help myself. I secretly peeked out my parent’s window and watched my troop traipse by with garbage bags. Mrs. L impatiently shouted at a few of the girls who were being silly.
I’m guessing my mother similarly spied on their outing. Because after that, she didn’t make me go back to the Brownies.
I’m sure I would’ve learned a great many valuable lessons had I stuck with the Brownies and beyond. But, I had kept an open Brownie mind for as long as I could. I’m thankful my mother didn’t push my participation. I’m glad she recognized that not every activity can be a match.
I guess you could say that’s just the way the cookie crumbles. Even if those cookies are a box of Thin Mints.
Do you recall any childhood memories that had a strong impact on you later in life? Please share your stories with me in the comments section.
