JGA July-August 09 - The Jewish Georgian

Page 8 THE JEWISH GEORGIAN July-August 2009
4455 Roswell Road
Atlanta, Georgia 30342
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Upon my honor, I will try
A
friend brought me a delicious
casserole that tasted even better
than it looked, and she hit not only
my taste buds but also my heartstrings
when she said, “This is a Girl Scout dish,
and I knew you were an old Girl Scout and
would appreciate it. We were taught to wrap
all of the layers in aluminum foil and take it
on our hike and cook it over hot coals.”
I said, “Lordy, chile, there was no such
thing as aluminum foil when I was a scout.”
There were my early childhood years,
when I just dreamed of being a Girl Scout.
We didn’t have Brownies and might never
have had a scout troop if one of the schoolteachers
hadn’t become interested because
of her daughter. And then, for the rest
of my grammar and high school
days (almost), I was first a Girl
Scout and then a person.
My whole world
became organized around
the olive green of the uniform
and the three fingers
held high in a pledge. It
was all-important: the
merit badges, passing the
tests, the hikes, the camping,
the projects; and I adored it.
My friends adored it, and we
became even closer friends.
But here comes a “however”: Although
my fondest memories involve being a
scout, and we were all so appreciative of
our leader, who gave unmeasured time, she
was a stern lady, unyielding and unforgiving.
She preached to us constantly about the
evils and sins of the world, such as speaking
to a male classmate as he rode by on his
bike. Her assistant was warmer and laughed
more easily, but our leader was a forceful
disciplinarian. We were innocent children
and needed to learn discipline mainly as it
involved our natural surroundings. She was
fearless in those times when you could
afford to be, and we experienced many
wondrous things.
We should not have been surprised
when the day came that she announced, as
we stood at attention, that, since her daughter
was finishing school that spring, she
would no longer be our scout leader. Her
assistant could not take on the responsibility.
We cried and wandered the residential
streets, going in and calling, unannounced,
on those ladies we thought might adopt us.
Sympathetic ears all, but no one wanted
such a commitment. We had been blessed
with our stern mistress; it was too much to
hope that she might have mellowed like Mr.
Belvedere.
BY
Shirley
Friedman
A lifetime later (actually only eight
years), I returned to my high school as a
teacher and had the most wonderful students
possible. One afternoon after classes,
a group of young girls came to my room
and said, “Our scout leader had to quit. Will
you take us?” Deja vu! I pressed my lips
together and tried to blink away the tears. I
said, “Let me tell you a little story about
what happened when I was your
age, and you’ll know why I
can’t possibly say ‘No’ to
you.”
I said “yes,” and, once
again, scouting became
an important part of my
life. I was there only a
year, and we didn’t do as
many outstanding things
as I had done under my
efficient leader, whom I
could not duplicate. I was many
years younger and not nearly as brilliant.
But we were properly organized, our
activities were well-planned and controlled,
and we had some wonderful, wonderful
times. My last memory was of winding up
in the hospital with a terrible ear infection
from swimming in a “not too clear” pond.
Many, many years later, I went down
home for the centennial of our town. At a
reception, I was talking to a young friend
who is a mountain climber of great note. I
told her how thrilled and astounded I was at
her prowess. “Well, you got me started,”
she said. My husband spilled his punch and
lifted an eyebrow.
“But,” I said, “I could never climb a
mountain.”
She said, “Don’t you remember all of
the great hikes we took when you were our
scout leader? I just loved them, and that’s
what made me become interested in mountain
climbing.”
That one remark was worth the ear
infection and all of the weekends spent
camping and hiking instead of partying or
sleeping late.
Here’s to Juliette Low and hiking and
cooking on coals (and aluminum foil!)—
and to love and warmth and understanding,
mixed with merit badges.