My parents should have seen it coming.
Age 6-7ish..Already making sound socialization decisions.
Sarah Neary's Mom was our Brownie Troop leader. Sarah Neary was my best friend. You would think I would have played nice and behave for sake of not giving my best friends mom a hard time. You would think. I could never get past the 67 cent chicken noodle soup she used to feed us when ever I visited. To this very day I can' t go near that noodle soup.
There was the Brown beanie, the Brown bow Tie. The Brown sash, the Brown pants, and in cooler months the Brown sweater. Let's not forget the hand gesture, circa 1980 gang sign I still cannot make. I hated the Brown. I hated the idea of it and the rigidness of the organization. Being in Brownie's ruined me of the Brown. Almost to the point of Not cultivating a relationship with Louis Vuitton. Settle down ladies, I said : Almost. Some years ago in college I hosted one of my first Halloween parties. My guests came in unique costumes and we all had a good laugh. Then the Brown surfaced again. Pun intended. A girl from my Cross Country team showed up in a Brown turtleneck, Brown pants, and a Brown hat. Taped to various parts were bits of toilet paper, and the occasional corn kernel. Yes, this actually happened. Now you see why I have a distaste of Brown.
I agreed to wear the sash, and I believe the Beanie. But there is not photographic evidence of this. Thank God. I went to a few of the chaperoned field trips and attended even fewer mandated meetings. I couldn't stop thinking, "What was the big deal"?(early cult-like behavior) and on the carefully guided tours, Why didn't they just let us explore the terrain ourselves? Yes, 7 years old and I wanted to tear up the terrain, alone.
This wanderlust surfaced many years later on a high school tour of Europe. 10 days and 8 of them were spent on a bus with a lovely Frenchwoman screaming into a microphone. There I was in Western France burying my head in a pillow waiting to get to Paris. All the Guide-ing as bringing me back to my Brownie Days.
So because I wouldn't wear the Beanie, the Bow-tie, the Brown sash, the Brown Pants and definitely not the Brown Sweater, a decision was made. Because I questioned the guided tours and looked bored all too often. And because I didn't think an activity merited a patch, my brief time as a Brownie came to an end. And for this 7 year old, it couldn't have come soon enough.