The Brownies


Isn’t this just the cutest little girl you’ve ever seen? That’s me when I was in the Brownies. I hated the Brownies. Part of the reason I hated being a Brownie was because my mom was a co-leader. I couldn’t get away with anything. There were other reasons, however. For one, the big honcho leader of our little troop resembled the wicked witch in The Wizard of OZ. I was only a little kid, but I knew homely when I saw it. If that lady was an example of a grown up Brownie, I wanted no part of it. Also, we did stupid stuff in the Brownies in 1962. Gluing popsicle sticks together didn’t strike me as a valuable trade. I always felt very silly making that stuff. The absolute worst was when we took an apple and stuck cloves in it until the entire apple wore cloves like a bullet proof vest. Then we tied a ribbon to the masterpiece so our mothers could dangle this nice smelling piece of fruit in a closet. It was allegedly intended as a closet freshener. Uh-huh.

Imagine opening the closet door months later to be confronted with a shrunken head that smelled like cloves.


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