I think about Maryellen often. I still miss her and I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.
Domestic Violence is a subject that many of us choose to ignore.
Often, it doesn’t even enter our minds until it is too late.
Many of us only think about it when it hits close to home.
I was one of those individuals…
I never imagined that one of my close friends was silently dealing with a domestic violence situation
.
She was extremely strong ~ mentally and physically. She’d give you her last dollar if you needed it. She was very talented in Boxing, MMA, and BJJ. She was very spunky. She was full of life and love… and had a super personality.
Of all the people {women} in my circle of friends, never did I ever imagine that she would be a victim and that her life would actually end in domestic violence.
This past Sunday, November 2nd, was All Soul’s Day. At mass, our priest asked us to come forward, light a candle, and say a prayer for those who have left their earthly life and have gone beyond to their life in heaven. I said a special prayer for Maryellen Cano.
3 years ago, sometime during the 24 hours between November 6th and November 7th, Maryellen’s life ended and she became one of my Guardian Angels.
There is no doubt in my mind that she is watching over me {and all those who knew her well} in everything I do.
I love you, Maryellen. May you forever rest in peace.
My soul is blessed and I have found peace in knowing that one day I will see you again.
Last week, we celebrated what would have been Daddy’s 81st Birthday.
Sixteen years ago, at the age of 65, he unexpectedly died of a massive heart attack.
He was an Old Military War Horse.
A retired {26 years served} Air Force Chief Master Sergeant {CMSgt}.
A rugged Korean and Vietnam War era veteran, whom we always believed would outlive us and whom we undoubtedly thought could live FOREVER.
On Saturday night, my Big Brother and I sat at the bar of a little Mexican Restaurant and raised our beer mugs to honor “The Old Dude” whom we now affectionately refer to as: “Mr. Anderson” (a long story).
Later, we relaxed at home in the living room, toked on an half-smoked Cohiba (a REAL Cuban, left over from New Year’s Eve), and “clinked” shot glasses full of Jack Daniels – all while we laughed and shared tales of our childhood.
This was the first time we’d celebrated Daddy’s birthday together in years. It was a surreal experience. Daddy was definitely with us that night – in Spirit.
Our memories of Daddy are similar, yet very different. My Brother and I share most stories word-for-word, yet some other “Daddy Tales” seem more like third person fables that have been passed through the years of our lives.
A five-year gap between me and my Brother’s ages caused Daddy to relate to each of us differently… We assume THAT is the catalyst of our different memories.
Still, it’s funny that although Daddy has been gone from this earth for so many years, that night, both of us admitted that we still seek Daddy’s wisdom and advice on a daily basis.
You may find it strange, but I probably “talk” to Daddy more now than I did during the last years of his life.
How could that be possible?
Well, Daddy comes to me in my dreams, he speaks to me when I am troubled and alone. At times when I find I need an “extra push”, or when I need help with a difficult dilemma, he’s there to gently nudge me along. For simple decisions or even for the most complex issues, he is there to offer his advice.
I liken it to the tiny Angel and/or Devil that the Protagonist feels sitting on his shoulders while in the midst of a difficult decision.
It is similar a quick phone call to a Buddy to ask her opinion: “Should I choose Red or White?” or just like a “Phone a Friend” option on a game show. Either way, Daddy is always there for me.
Today, as I drove to the gym, I thought about some of the life lessons that Daddy taught me = Future Fodder for this blog…
Occasionally, it does me well to reflect on these and consider their validity.
A Few Lessons from My Daddy:
You need to be happy to survive this life. Do what YOU love and don’t surrender = You will always be happy.
Nothing has to be permanent. Although there may be consequences, you ALWAYS have the option to change your mind.
Never, Never, Ever burn the bridge. That bridge could lead you to new and exciting places that you never knew existed -OR- you may need to cross that bridge again to go back from whence you came.
We are taught to LOVE one another, but no one ever said that we have to LIKE one another. To be Cordial is enough.
It’s a small world… You’re gonna keep running into the same folks over and over and over again. Keep THAT in mind, because, one day, either YOU or The Other Guy is gonna need a favor. {In other words: Just keep it Cordial.}
Whether he’s your Daddy literally or figuratively, or Dead or Alive, I’m certain that each of us have bits of wisdom from our “Daddy” that guides us through our lives.
Today, I challenge you by asking:
“Who’s YOUR Daddy?”
and
“What are some of the life lessons that he’s taught you?”
My Best Friend came home this week.
His visit had been planned for several weeks.
Little did he know, He came home when I needed him most.
It’s funny how things work out.
He came running…
And I am Thankful.
For all my life, I have been The Responsible One.
I’ve been The Go-to-Gal.
I’ve been The ONE in Control.
When it’s lost, I’ll find it.
When it’s off kilter, I’ll tap it.
When it’s twisted, I’ll unwind it.
If you cry, I wipe your tears.
Need a hug?
I hug like no other.
Want to talk?
Call me.
I throw the party.
I mix the drinks.
I plan the menu.
I keep the jokes flowing.
I spend most of my days “fixing” Things.
I fix Friends.
I fix things at Work.
I fix things at Home.
I even fix things that don’t belong to me.
I walk the Walk.
I talk the Talk.
I play the Game.
Without doubt, when you need Me,
I am There.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
According to Wikipedia:
“You’ve Got a Friend” was written by Carole King during the January 1971 recording sessions for her own album Tapestry, and James Taylor’s album Mud Slide Slim. King has stated that “the song was as close to pure inspiration as I’ve ever experienced. The song wrote itself. It was written by something outside myself, through me.” King’s album was recorded in an overlap with Taylor’s, and King, Danny Kortchmar, and Joni Mitchell perform on both. The song is included on both albums; King said in a 1972 interview that she “didn’t write it with James or anybody really specifically in mind. But when James heard it he really liked it and wanted to record it”.
Taylor’s version was released as a single, and reached number 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 and number 4 on the UK Singles Chart. The James Taylor version also spent one week at the top of the Easy Listening charts.
James Taylor and Carole King performed “You’ve Got a Friend” together in 2010 during their Troubadour Reunion Tour, as video screens show the two as they looked when the song was first written and recorded.
According to author James D. Perone, the song’s themes include an expression of “a universal, sisterly/brotherly, agape-type love of one human being for another, regardless of gender.” The “reassuring” lyrics have long made the song popular with lonely people needing a boost of self-confidence. The song’s messages of friendship having no boundaries and a friend being there when you are in need has universal appeal. For Taylor the lyrics had particular resonance due to the depression he had recovered from shortly before hearing King play the song.
I was awakened early this morning by the sound of my cell phone ringing and sad news of the passing of a Good Friend.
I cried.
I’ve continued to cry for the better part of the day.
And as the day has gone on, I’ve received call after call and text after text from friends far and near.
So sad.
Calls to extend condolences & hugs and ask for explanations or details of what actually happened to our friend.
We may never know.
One thing is for certain, we all have great memories of Mark Selbee.
Mark was Everyone’s Best Friend.
Mark made everyone laugh.
Found on a friend’s FB page this evening: “R.I.P. Selbee. You were a pain in the ass and you loved every minute of it.”
Sooooo, True!
And to THAT allow me to add this: —–> Mark was the only guy I knew who could punch a dude in the face while training/sparring — break the dude’s nose and then make him think it was his own damn fault.
I can hear Selbee laughing about it now.
Peace Be With You, Mark Selbee.
We will pray for you.
And our prayers will continue for your wife – Amy and your children, your entire family and all those whose lives you have touched…
Hopefully, we will see you again on the other side.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia::::::::Mark A. Selbee(March 2, 1969 – May 24, 2014) was an American kickboxer from Atlanta, Georgia. He had recently expanded his knowledge of martial arts to include Brazilian jiu jitsu and trained out of Knuckle Up Fitness in Atlanta.
Mark Selbee
Born
Mark A. Selbee March 2, 1969 (age 45) Atlanta, Georgia, United States
She’d listened to a few of my “He just broke up with me” stories…
And I’d done the same for her.
We’d hung out together when there was no one else around.
Our apartments were two floors apart.
On some Friday nights, we would be almost penniless.
Neither of us would have enough money to buy a six pack.
We’d dump our purses, gather what little change we had, and drive to the Beer Store to purchase a quart to cry over.
For entertainment:
We opened the curtains to the sliding glass door, cranked up the music, and danced with our reflections while the radio played full blast.
Our neighbors would knock on the ceiling to ask us to “Turn it down!”
When her son was born, He would not acknowledge him…
But, I did.
I was there to see his birth.
I saw him step on his first school bus.
I watched him graduate high school.
Our lives moved in different directions.
We lost track of time and years.
We missed each other.
Her son called today to tell me the news.
“She is Gone.”
I have been accused of many things in my lifetime, but recently was taken aback when I was accused of Disrespecting you.
And though you may think I have forgotten and brushed the incident away, this has caused me to think long and hard about what the term “Respect” actually means – to ME.
I try to Respect the world that I live in… My Country, in particular, and the laws that govern me.
I may not always agree with my Local, State, and National Government & Laws, but I try to do what the law says and with that, I feel I Respect the Law.
Same thing with Religion… I have Mine and You have Yours.
My Religion really has no proper name, but for what it’s worth – I believe in Something and Someone Higher than myself – I Respect MY God.
You may not agree with my Religion and I may not agree with your Religion, But if THAT’s your thing – Have at it.
That’s all the Respect I have for Religion.
While my Parents were alive, I had great Respect for both of them.
And now that they have passed away, I probably hold them in an even Higher Regard.
Yes, I STILL Respect my Parents.
I Respect my property and yours.
I take care of my stuff and when you ask me to look after your stuff, I take care of it, too.
I treat it like my own.
I feel I return the same amount of Politeness and Cordiality to most individuals as they assert to me.
I try to treat others the way I feel they should treat me.
I try to treat myself the way I want to be treated.
I give Respect.
I Take Gap, I Give Gap.
I give a Smile for a Smile.
I relay an Attitude for an Attitude.
What I get, I return.
In My Opinion, THAT is “Respect”.
But now I think about what “Respect” may mean to you.
… And for this, I’ve pulled out my trusty dictionary and found the following definition:
re·spect
[ri-spekt]
noun
1.
a particular, detail, or point (usually preceded by in ): to differ in some respect.
2.
relation or reference: inquiries with respect to a route.
3.
esteem for or a sense of the worth or excellence of a person, a personal quality or ability, or something considered as a manifestation of a personal quality or ability: I have great respect for her judgment.
4.
deference to a right, privilege, privileged position, or someone or something considered to have certain rights or privileges; proper acceptance or courtesy; acknowledgment: respect for a suspect’s right to counsel; to show respect for the flag; respect for the elderly.
5.
the condition of being esteemed or honored: to be held in respect.
6.
respects, a formal expression or gesture of greeting, esteem, or friendship: Give my respects to your parents.
7.
favor or partiality.
Have I really been Disrespectful to YOU – My Accusor?
Ok, maybe you believe that I don’t see the high worth and excellence in you.
Or that I don’t hold you in a such a High Degree of Esteem or Honor.
But have you earned THAT?
At one time, I saw you as a Tough and Tumble Individual – possibly even a bit stronger than myself.
But the chink in your armor was revealed.
I saw it and I realized that we are equals.
Is my personal re-evaluation of You – and of myself {for that matter} – really what you should deem as Disrespect?
I think not.
If asked if I have ever been disrespected, I can only think of a few instances in my life that I feel I have come close or may fit.
Like: The few times that I have been Stood-up for a Date or Appointment and have not received an apology or an explanation,
Or Like: Having Someone {particularly a Man/Love Interest} try to “Door-Mat” me or “Wear” me like an Old Sock,
Or, Like: When I’ve loaned someone some money or an item and the money or item was never returned, acknowledged, or worse – Returned in an Altered State.
Or, Like: When I was 10 years old at Girl Scout Camp and one of the other campers called me a few Not-So-Nice names and then threw dirt on me.
Other than that, I can’t think of much that is really worth dwelling over.
So now, I just Googled this sentence: “What are examples of Disrespect?”
And this is what I got:
“A few examples of disrespect are: Talking about someone behind their back, Mocking or Teasing someone, Stereotyping someone, Making fun of someone, or Pressuring someone into doing something they don’t want to do.”
Is This Really What You Mean?!?
THAT stuff happens to ALL of us.
Every Day. Day In and Day Out
If THAT is what hurts you, I’m sorry.
I truly, truly am.
But I think we all may need to lighten up a bit.
Shake it off and keep moving.
Maybe you shouldn’t allow yourself to ponder so much on Others’ respect for you.
Think about it.
Instead, maybe you should concentrate on the Respect you have for Yourself.
It’s Rough out here.
If I have learned nothing else in my short life time, It’s THIS:
Self Respect is one of the most important personal attributes anyone can have.
I turned 13 years old during that summer and lived on a street where a neighbor had a Doberman Pinscher.
This was back in the mid-70’s when Doberman’s were really popular as a guardian and protection breed.
The Smith’s had a beautiful female named Lacy who was tall and majestic and looked like a shiny Pony.
Whenever I walked past the Smith’s house, she would run to the edge of the yard and stop just long enough to sniff me and let me me rub her head. She was protecting “her territory”. It was my guess that she was “allowing” me to continue down the street, because she “knew” me.
In July, Lacy gave birth to a litter of 4 puppies. Out of those 4, was one lone male pup whom they decided to keep. He was the runt of the litter and I don’t think the Smith’s really expected him to survive long.
… But, he fooled everyone and quickly, he grew to almost twice the size of Lacy. Just as any Mother would be, Lacy was very protective of her “little” pup.
For hours on end, I used to sit at my bedroom window and watch Lacy and that male puppy play in the yard.
I noticed that somehow, even though the Smith’s yard was not fenced, Lacy managed to figure out the property limits and she knew just how far the two of them could wander without getting into trouble. In essence, Lacy had set her own Invisible Fence/Boundary for herself and her pup.
When strangers approached her Boundary line, Lacy would let out a warning bark. The Bark was meant not only to tell strangers to “Beware of Dog” but also to warn her pup of impending “Danger”.
Everytime her pup got close to the sidewalk or the edge of the driveway, Lacy would run over and nip him at the back of his hind legs to remind him to “stay close”.
Funny… I thought I “knew” Lacy very well, but apparently, I didn’t.
One Saturday afternoon as I was walking home from the Bowling Alley, I saw Lacy and her pup playing in the front yard.
The Smith’s and their children were no where in sight.
As I approached the yard, Lacy let out her Bark. I kept walking. Her pup ran closer. Finally, as Lacy realized that I was getting “too close”, she ran and cut the distance between me and her pup. She hurried to nip his hind leg and then {for good measure} turned an bit a chunk out of my thigh.
Before I knew it, I was down and both Lacy and her pup were back sitting on the front step of their house just as though nothing had happened.
****
Many years passed before I realized that THAT experience proved to be a lesson in Boundaries.
Boundaries.
We set limits, guidelines, and rules for how we associate with the world around us. Our friends, families, and aquaintences, even strangers are expected to understand and obey the Boundries that we place around ourselves.
Unfortunately, sometimes our Boundries are not clear to everyone. Nor do they remain in place ~ Often times, we lose sight of the line all together. The invisible lines – Boundary – that we draw in the sand gets erased, yet we still expect it to be seen and obeyed by the people with whom we come in contact.
Social Media is interesting… Where are the Boundaries?
Many people use Social Media as a way to express themselves and often do so without realizing that they have opened their life for EVERYONE to see.
We say things and portray ourselves in ways that we would never consider if we were not sitting behind a keyboard… Then, when an acquaintance crosses the line or replies with something deemed inappropriate = All Hell Breaks Loose.
We classify a list of 2500+ people as our “friends”, yet we get Mad and/or Angry when they act too friendly.
In today’s world, it is nearly impossible to separate Social Media from True Life.
We can not be one person on our facebook page and another person at work or on our resume. It’s impossible.
Lacy kept sight of her Boundary at all times. She knew where it was and she protected it against friend and foe. She made certain that everyone around her knew just where it was, too.
When we blur or erase our own personal Boundaries, how can we expect others to know where the line is drawn?
As defined in Wikipedia:
Personal boundaries – Guidelines, rules or limits that a person creates to identify for him- or herself what are reasonable, safe and permissible ways for other people to behave around him or her and how he or she will respond when someone steps outside those limits. They are built out of a mix of beliefs, opinions, attitudes, past experiences and social learning. Personal boundaries define you as an individual, outlining your likes and dislikes, and setting the distances you allow others to approach. They include physical, mental, psychological and spiritual boundaries, involving beliefs, emotions, intuitions and self-esteem.
Last week, we celebrated what would have been Daddy’s 81st Birthday.
Sixteen years ago, at the age of 65, he unexpectedly died of a massive heart attack.
He was an Old Military War Horse.
A retired {26 years served} Air Force Chief Master Sergeant {CMSgt}.
A rugged Korean and Vietnam War era veteran, whom we always believed would outlive us and whom we undoubtedly thought could live FOREVER.
On Saturday night, my Big Brother and I sat at the bar of a little Mexican Restaurant and raised our beer mugs to honor “The Old Dude” whom we now affectionately refer to as: “Mr. Anderson” (a long story).
Later, we relaxed at home in the living room, toked on an half-smoked Cohiba (a REAL Cuban, left over from New Year’s Eve), and “clinked” shot glasses full of Jack Daniels – all while we laughed and shared tales of our childhood.
This was the first time we’d celebrated Daddy’s birthday together in years. It was a surreal experience. Daddy was definitely with us that night – in Spirit.
Our memories of Daddy are similar, yet very different. My Brother and I share most stories word-for-word, yet some other “Daddy Tales” seem more like third person fables that have been passed through the years of our lives.
A five-year gap between me and my Brother’s ages caused Daddy to relate to each of us differently… We assume THAT is the catalyst of our different memories.
Still, it’s funny that although Daddy has been gone from this earth for so many years, that night, both of us admitted that we still seek Daddy’s wisdom and advice on a daily basis.
You may find it strange, but I probably “talk” to Daddy more now than I did during the last years of his life.
How could that be possible?
Well, Daddy comes to me in my dreams, he speaks to me when I am troubled and alone. At times when I find I need an “extra push”, or when I need help with a difficult dilemma, he’s there to gently nudge me along. For simple decisions or even for the most complex issues, he is there to offer his advice.
I liken it to the tiny Angel and/or Devil that the Protagonist feels sitting on his shoulders while in the midst of a difficult decision.
It is similar a quick phone call to a Buddy to ask her opinion: “Should I choose Red or White?” or just like a “Phone a Friend” option on a game show. Either way, Daddy is always there for me.
Today, as I drove to the gym, I thought about some of the life lessons that Daddy taught me = Future Fodder for this blog…
Occasionally, it does me well to reflect on these and consider their validity.
A Few Lessons from My Daddy:
You need to be happy to survive this life. Do what YOU love and don’t surrender = You will always be happy.
Nothing has to be permanent. Although there may be consequences, you ALWAYS have the option to change your mind.
Never, Never, Ever burn the bridge. That bridge could lead you to new and exciting places that you never knew existed -OR- you may need to cross that bridge again to go back from whence you came.
We are taught to LOVE one another, but no one ever said that we have to LIKE one another. To be Cordial is enough.
It’s a small world… You’re gonna keep running into the same folks over and over and over again. Keep THAT in mind, because, one day, either YOU or The Other Guy is gonna need a favor. {In other words: Just keep it Cordial.}
Whether he’s your Daddy literally or figuratively, or Dead or Alive, I’m certain that each of us have bits of wisdom from our “Daddy” that guides us through our lives.
Today, I challenge you by asking:
“Who’s YOUR Daddy?”
and
“What are some of the life lessons that he’s taught you?”
I used to have two cars.
Both cars, I owned – free and clear.
One of my cars was a really “Nice” later model car that I drove almost all the time – rain or shine.
It had a lot of accessories, special features, and bells and whistles that I liked.
Actually, I really LOVED ALL the extra stuff that I’d added to my Nice car!
I special ordered that car and I liked to show it off to all my friends.
I had a special vanity plate on the back and a cute little sticker on the back bumper that set my car apart from all the others.
I always kept the gas tank full of premium gas.
Usually, when I drove my Nice car, I kept the convertible top down and played the music really loud so that everybody noticed me, heard me coming, and saw me driving.
Parking was a no-brainer…
I always used the valet service to park it and I always allowed the valet person put it right out in front of the building so EVERYBODY could see it.
I loved to watch other people’s faces as they admired how nice a car I actually owned.
I LOVED that car!
I kept my other car parked in my Garage.
My other car really was not a “Rust Bucket” – it was actually a pretty cool little car – but for the sake of THIS story, that’s what I’ll call it – “Rust Bucket”
Sometimes, I parked it in my driveway to allow the sun to shine on it.
Sometimes, I kept it wrapped in a cloth car cover to keep the dust off of it.
But usually, I just kept my Rust Bucket in my Garage.
It really was nothing special.
It didn’t have a lot of accessories, special features, or bells and whistles.
I didn’t special order it.
Actually, I really can’t even remember exactly how I acquired it.
It didn’t have a vanity plate or special bumper stickers to identify it as mine.
It didn’t have a special paint job or any special features of which I was aware.
I only kept the most minimum maintenance on it.
I rarely gave it a full tank of gas – usually I maintained only ¼ tank…
Sometimes, I didn’t wash it for months.
I don’t think I ever waxed it.
I didn’t change the oil very often and regular tune-ups non-existent.
I only drove the Rust Bucket occasionally.
Sometimes, I drove it on special occasions and holidays. But on those days, it was only because:
A) I knew I wouldn’t be traveling far from home
B) I knew I wouldn’t to be out for a long time
C) I knew I would not be leaving the house until late at night
or
D) I knew that no one would see me
I was NOT ashamed of my Rust Bucket – I just really liked driving my Nice car and preferred to keep my Rust Bucket around for emergencies and boring rides.
Every now and then, someone would inquire about buying my Rust Bucket.
But, I didn’t want to sell it.
Sometimes, they would even ask if they could borrow it.
My answer was always: “No!”
My logic was that although I rarely drove my Rust Bucket, there may have come a day when I actually NEEDED it.
So, whenever someone would show a little interest in my Rust Bucket, I would take it out of my Garage and drive it around for a few days.
A few days was just enough to prove to myself {and everyone else} that I still NEEDED my Rust Bucket.
Once, someone came to my Garage and took my Rust Bucket for a joy ride.
They didn’t ask me if they could drive it, they just rummaged around in the drawers of my Garage, found the keys and drove it away for a few days.
The engine was very quiet.
I didn’t even notice that the Rust Bucket had been gone until it was returned.
They parked it back in my Garage seemingly unnoticeable.
Upon return, I noticed that my Rust Bucket had been washed and the oil had been changed.
It didn’t have any scratches on it, but I could tell that it had been driven by someone else.
I didn’t report it stolen. But, I did get very, very, very angry once I realized what had happened.
Yep, I had two cars…
And after many years of maintaining those two cars, I realized that it was more of a hassle than it was worth.
Why did I NEED two cars when in actuality I was only driving the NICE car on most days?
I was being Greedy.
And you know what?
I realized that my Greed not only affected me but it affected others as well.
Greed is the inordinate desire to possess wealth, goods, or objects of abstract value with the intention to keep it for one’s self, far beyond the dictates of basic survival and comfort.
It’s my opinion that Greed can be applied to People, Places, or Things.
Thus, I believe that a person can be greedy in a Romantic Relationship or Friendship – an inordinate desire to possess another person and/or their feelings.
Obviously, my Tale of Two Cars is a very broad analogy.
It’s MY assessment of one type of Romantic relationship that I have been involved in over and over again.
There were times when I played the part of the Owner of the two cars and there were times when I played the part of one of those two types of cars.
Occasionally, I have been the Nice car.
But sometimes, I have have been the Rust Bucket.
Either way, whether I played the role of the Owner of the Car or The actual Car – the situation NEVER turned out nice.
Who are you?
How many cars do you own?
Or, better yet, who is holding on to your keys?
When you think about it like this, it doesn’t give you a very good feeling inside, Does it?
If you see yourself as the owner of two cars, then today is the day that you need get rid of one of those cars.
You really don’t need TWO cars.
And, what if you’re the Nice Car or the Rust Bucket?
Go find that greedy owner, reach in his/her pocket, and take back your keys!
You should do it now, while the engine is still hot.
I must apologize that this week I have been slack with posting to my new blog. It was not until yesterday that I finally tore myself away from my other busy work and realized that I was neglecting all of you. Someone on Facebook reminded me that the Girl Scout Cookie season had begun.
Here we are at the time of year when we will get bombarded by giggling young girls who will block the entrances of banks and grocery stores in last stitch effort to hu$tle our dollars and “force” us to buy box after box of tasty treats.
I remembered that I was once one of those Girl Scouts who sold many, many boxes of cookies. Back then, we did it different. With my fellow Girl Scout troop members we proposed to “divide and conquer!”. We paired up with a partner and split the neighborhood, walking door-or-door selling the old-fashioned way.
I was involved in Girl Scouting in some form or another until well after I graduated from Senior High School.
Yesterday, as the memory of Cookie Sales entered my mind, a smile came to my face as I thought about my some of my experiences as a Girl Scout. Some experiences were good and some were bad, but ALL of the experiences taught me lessons that I have carried throughout my adult life.
Through scouting, I have met many friends – many whom I still remain in very close contact.
I value all the friends I have. Mainly because I’ve always felt that true friends are like irreplaceable gifts. Our friends come into our lives for reasons unknown. Some are there for short times – some are there for a life time. Some we talk to every day – others we may go weeks, even years without hearing from them or contacting them. Some friends are our crutches whom we lean on to make it through life’s journeys – Others depend on our strength and lean solely on us.
I have one friend in particular, whose friendship I have valued for many, many years. And probably unless she reads this, she may never really know how much.
We met over 40 years ago. She – a blonde haired 10-year-old girl, with a personality much like mine. I would probably describe us, as “cute” little girls with a tomboyish edge. Both of us were as crabby, cynical, bossy, and loud mouth as Lucy Van Pelt from the Peanuts comic strip.
And though we did not attend the same Elementary School, we became fast friends and confidants during our 5th grade school year in 1972.
A strange dynamic – our only interaction occurred during our weekly Girl Scout Troop meetings with 30 other very impressionable little girls. Needless to say, the other girls were probably not as “bold” or as “alive” with personality as she and I.
The Girl Scout Law (Circa 1972) I will do my best: to be honest to be fair to help where I am needed to be cheerful to be friendly and considerate to be a sister to every Girl Scout to respect authority to use resources wisely to protect and improve the world around me to show respect for myself and others through my words and actions
Ah, yes, Girl Scouts.
And now, this year – some 40 years later, as she and I each will turn 51 years old, we can sit back and laugh about our experiences.
I can only image that enrolling us in a Girl Scout Troop must have been some last stitch effort by our Mothers to salvage some of the “little girl” personality they had hoped we would develop before we stepped into Junior High School. Maybe we would act more like “little ladies”.
And summer came quickly that year. Girls like us needed to be kept busy or take a chance at an opportunity {Yes – any opportunity} to get into trouble and undo the good that our Mother’s had cultivated while forcing us to live the Girl Scout life.
So, AWAY we went! We were sent to away to Girl Scout summer camp! Yippee! ~ SIGH.
Two weeks of living in cabin huts in the woods of Lizella, Georgia. Summer life among the fire ants and garden snakes, brown bats, and wood rats.
Unbeknownst to each of us – out of an 8-week summer, luck had it that she and I were enrolled in the same summer session, for the same two weeks, and once there, we were assigned to bunk in the same cabin with 8 other girls.
Was that Fate, Fortune, or Coincidence?
And oh… the stories we now tell about our adventures in the “wild” during that notorious summer! I think we kept the “trouble” kettle brewing for most of those 14 days… What a joyous summer we had!
I am not sure, but for whatever reason, I don’t think our paths came close again until 2 years later when we began Junior High School.
I would never describe us as having been “Best Friends”, but we have continued to maintain a very unique friendship for many years.
As the years progressed, we attended many of the same social events and were members of the same clubs and activities. Our Junior High and Senior High School years, were spent attending the same schools.
Often times, we sat in the same classroom. It was not unusual that we may not have said more than a few words to each other during any given school year, yet we remained friends.
Our lives were very similar – almost parallel, yet never not quite the same. We maintained our friendship from afar, but continued to travel along different paths.
We have not lived in the same city since we graduated from High School.
We have never shared ALL of our life experiences with each other and to this day there is much that we still don’t know about each other.
Yet, at various times during the past many years, we have discussed our experiences with the single life, married life, the birth of children, and the loss loved ones.
Through it all, we’ve managed to maintain some semblance of our friendship.
At any given time – for any reason – if we needed to reach out to one another, we have always been able to do so.
To each other, we have been the epitome of the unknown accomplice often described in many a well written best-selling novel.
How odd a Friendship is this?
Last week, I managed to “pocket dial” her… long distance. Once I realized what I had done, BUT before she had a chance to answer – I hung up and ended the call.
Within 10 minutes, my cell phone rang.
It was her:
“Hey, Girl Scout! I just saw that you called. Is everything all right? Are you OK?”
I laughed hysterically as I told her what happened and so did she.
We ended the call with both of us saying: “I love you, Girl!” and with the joint knowledge that she and I will always be those goofy 10-year-old little Girl Scouts from Robins Air Force Base Troop #197.
Who knows when we will chat again? But, no matter – I know that she is always there for me and vice versa.
Who is YOUR Girl Scout?
EVERYBODY has one.
Give her a call – TODAY.
The Girl Scout Promise On my honor, I will try: To do my duty to God and My Country To help other people at all times. And live by the Girl Scout Law.
reginathegodmother.com 
