Saturday, October 3, 2009

And to live by the Girl Scout Law

I had to ask my friend Michelle the other day if it were true that we tried to break my leg back in Jr. High so we could ride in the car during the local parade in our town instead of marching in our girl scout uniforms. She confirmed this nugget of memory that popped into my head the other day. Yes. Anna and Michelle took turns jumping on my leg and trying to break it because we were older girl scouts and frankly, it was the kiss of death for us.
Luck struck and somehow we were able to get Anna's step dad to drive us in his Bronco and throw candy. We spent most of the ride ducking down to avoid eye contact with anyone on the street.

It makes me think of two things:

I am really mortified that I was so focused on what others thought.
That uniform was kinda cute when I jazzed it up and I liked old Betty, the troop leader a lot.
I learned shit there. I liked it inside the brown paneled church basement every Tuesday. I did.

I also think about Anna's step dad. He was a big part of my preteen and teen years. They lived on a camp as caretakers and it was amazing to go to Anna's house. I grew up in the woods but this was insane. Trails and tents and lodges and it was a wicked good backdrop for the teen years let me tell you.
But Anna's dad was just so good. He was a good and cool and funny man and he had two sons and they both died really young. One of them I loved in the way you love a boy when yr quite young and stupid. Like when you are so hot and cold and playing along with some game the older girls whisper about as they paint their faces in tiled beige school bathrooms.

I think about Anna's step dad and how I would still like to know him now. But I don't know him anymore. He is just sitting in the back of my brain in a room reserved for all of the other people that I just don't know anymore.
And I don't why.


Renovation Therapy said...

How awesome would it be for him to get a print out of this post in the mail? Everyone wants to know that they were/are meaningful. Go ahead. Send it.


flutter said...

He made a difference. That stays with a person.

Anonymous said...

Dennis would also die laughing if he knew about us trying to break your leg. I can still see him his mostly fixed up MG - is that what it was called, that cool little car? I am glad I didn't break your leg. That would have been terrible, really! xoxo bsmell

Alexis said...

I love this post. Your writing is so beautiful!

Corinne said...

I always get a little embarrassed when I think about my past, for better or worst. You change so much over a lifetime, or even a few years, it's a little bittersweet to look back.

I agree w/ the above poster about sending your friends father a copy of this post. That'd be pretty incredible.

secret agent mama said...

I agree with RT, send him a note of appreciation!

Boy Crazy said...

I love that this got me thinking about all of the people I don't know anymore. And it gave me a vivid flashback to my middle school bathroom.

avesta said...

This cracks me up!

It reminds me of college when I begged you to let me just bump into your car from behind with my car so we could get out of taking a final.

I spent so much time and effort trying to figure out a way to get out of taking the exam when really all that time and effort would have been much more beneficial studying! :)

Laurie said...

I was a terrible Girl Scout - particularly remember failing at sewing. ;)

I hope your words find him.

karey m. said...

i just seem to need need those words that live in your head...

thanks for emptying it all out here.


{birdie on wednesday! i am very very very scheduled this week! xoxo. again.}

Kim Baise said...

i agree about sending the post out, it would mean so much. I read your posts all the time, they make me laugh and cry out loud. I wanted to let you know that I gave you the Kreativ Blog Award. If you want to post it you can. Just copy the jpeg and list 7 facts about yourself and list other bloggers you like to give the award to.

Lotta said...

Love this post. I was talking to a friend the other day about why my knee is crap. I bashed the hell out of it so it would swell up and go purple. Then I could blow off cheerleading practice with a "real" excuse.

I'm an idiot.


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