Thirty–something speaks

Mike Maddock

The Girl Scouts is a worthy organization. I just never pictured myself working for them. But as my oldest daughter dons her vest and joins her Brownie troop every other Thursday night, I find myself doing more and more work...and I’m just a lowly helper. My wife and many other wives (aka Girl Scout mothers) are becoming regular employees whose only salary is the idea that their daughters are learning to be responsible, productive members of society. I’m not knocking the system, but it seems when the real work needs to be done, the Girl Scouts are told to stay home while the Girl Scout mothers are told to start doing some heavy lifting.

This past Saturday, my wife and her fellow Girl Scout mothers woke up at the crack of dawn, drove their mini–vans and SUVs to the designated drop–spot, unloaded and re–loaded, then distributed about six billion boxes of the infamous Girl Scout cookies. And where were the actual Girl Scouts when these dedicated mothers were up to their eyeballs in caramel delights, iced berry pinatas, and thin mints? I know my daughter was snug in her bed dreaming of merit badges and sales prizes. She, and most of the other Scouts, would have gladly participated in the cookie distribution day, but ironically, they were ordered to stay home.

I have some idea of the chaos that may have resulted from several hundred little girls running to and fro attempting to accurately distribute cases of cookies, but nothing builds character more than lifting boxes of lemon pastry cremes for a half–day or so. By the time those Girl Scouts would have filled the fleets of mini–vans and SUVs with cookies, they would have certainly learned the value of a hard day’s work. They may have even wanted that nap they hadn’t taken since they were two–year–olds. But instead, the Girl Scouts woke up refreshed and ready to do the easy and rewarding work of delivering the cookies door to door and collecting the cash, while their mothers sought out any couch to rest their aching backs for a minute or two.

I think the biggest lesson my daughter may be taking away from all this is the value of counter space. Until we fill these orders, our kitchen counters will be covered with cases of cookies. The coffee maker has been replaced by boxes of shortbread, and peanut butter sandwiches now sit in the spot my toaster used to occupy. I reached for a napkin the other day and pulled out some fudge animal treasures. It’s all very confusing.

The Girls Scouts organization has been around since 1912 and has grown from 18 members in Savannah, GA to over four million worldwide, so they must be doing something right. I’ve been around since 1969, and the only thing that’s grown on me is my waistline. So maybe I should just defer to the judgement of those involved in the organization, stuff my mouth with a few peanut butter patties, and rejoice in the fact my wife is the one doing all the heavy lifting.