My heart swelled with pride today when I heard the news on npr that the girl scouts of america had rejected a $100,000 donation because it would come with the proviso that the money could not be used to benefit transgender girls.
I went to the girl scout camp outside sweetwater, texas about 1959. My camp name was "tater" because my favorite counselor went by the moniker "frito." The first night I used the latrine, I set my shining flashlight on the edge of the seat & watched it roll in slow motion into the bog below. glug glug and there was only a faint glow down there. the next day I tripped on a rock and my knee hit a tree stump, necessitating a trip to the sweetwater emergency room. It was there that I first learned about butterfly stitches, which were much preferable to real stitches. The letter home to mother and daddy read "dear mother and daddy, last night my flashlight fell into the latrine, and today I had to go to the hospital. love, ralla sue."
I saw my first tarantula with our troop when we were walking back from the mess hall to our camp site. Those texas girl scouts did not panic or scream, but gave it a wide berth. Legend had it that tarantulas could spring up to 20 feet. We stayed quiet so we would not upset it.
We lit a fire under an overhang that looked like it was growing moss underneath. Turns out it was millions of intertwined daddy long legs. They scurried apart, and then we calmly toasted our some mores where the daddy long legs had been peacefully dozing.
Today I felt glad that I had a connection with an organization that showed it has a heart.