No trip to Paris…No broken body parts…Just the kind of 0pportunity that presents itself only once in a lifetime. This is a short tale of my life as a horseback riding Girl Scout. It is the kind of thing that would happen only to me.
I loved being a Girl Scout. I was best friends with each Girl who belonged to my Gainesville troop and was a Patrol Leader. I loved our troop leader, Mrs. Jones, and she loved me. Plagued with petit mall seizures and night terrors as a child, these problems never kept me from camping in a tent with my troop in my leader’s huge backyard. My issues could prove to be challenging for a scout leader. But, when my problems came to light on one camping trip, Mrs. Jones was there to calm me down lovingly, and I was okay and back in my sleeping bag within the hour. She knew what I needed, and all was right with the world.
Everyone always wore their scout uniform on school picture day.
After leaving Gainesville, Florida, and returning to Jacksonville, my mom found a troop in the neighborhood for me to continue my Girl Scouting. The girls in the troop were not particularly welcoming, but I had hoped that things would change after they got to know me. I tried my hardest to fit in with the girls in the troop but left each meeting disappointed. I was not used to being treated like an outsider.
The scout leader planned a trip to a horse stable in Mandarin, and since I had never been on a horse, I was excited about the new experience. After a few horse riding tips from the man running the stable, I rode off into the sunset, and right before the ride was about to end, my horse just stopped in its tracks. With no experience riding, I could not get the old mare to move. Everyone else kept going. In my mind, hours had passed. It was only fifteen minutes. I began to cry, and panic set in. Where was everyone? Was I going to be left out in these strange woods to spend the night with a horse?
My mother showed up at the stable to pick me up, and since I wasn’t there waiting for her, a search party was dispatched. The half-mile trail behind the stable seemed like the Ocala National Forest. After my rescue, I was comforted by my mother, who was a little peeved. Following my experience, I remained in the troop for the remainder of that 6th grade school year and then gave up on Girl Scouting entirely. Attending a different school didn’t help matters. I could not break into the clique. That was around 1961. Trust me… I AM OVER any trauma suffered during my experience stuck out in the woods on the horse. I can’t say the same about my feelings for the girls in the troop. Being left on the outside looking in, I can say that I’ve never forgiven those girls, even though I have no recollection now of who was in the troop.
Until one afternoon, while ringing up a sale at my beloved former job at Joyce’s Quilt Shop, I noticed my customer’s last name was that of a well-known local college professor and pianist. Many years had passed since I attended a Gerson Yessin concert at Jacksonville University, but I remembered his unusual name and incredible talent. I introduced myself to his wife and inquired about him, and one thing led to another. You know me….she asked where I was from….I said here…I said I went to Wolfson….she said her daughter graduated the second year it was open….I did, too….she said she knew many of the girls in that class…..and why? Because the woman standing there in front of me was the leader of that unfriendly Girl Scout troop.
Okay, so this is something that happened fifty-some-odd years ago…So what? I told her my “horse tale” anyway. She looked puzzled and did not remember me. She did remember taking her troop to Mandarin to ride horses.
Back then, many Girl Scout troops had a focus. However, one thing all the girls in this troop had in common… wasn’t sailing….or expanding interests through merit badges….it was HORSES…My former scout leader is now explaining (and unfortunately feeling the need to apologize, although not remembering) that each girl in the troop owned a horse. I wish the scout leader had mentioned this fact when my mother and I registered to join the troop.
It all made sense to me now. The reason why I didn’t fit in with those girls and why they made no effort to welcome me into the “fold” was horses. I didn’t own a horse. I know the girls in my new troop were not as familiar with the Girl Scout Laws as I was. They forgot the part about being a friend to every other Girl Scout. I took that very seriously at that age.
Too bad I carried that grudge for so long when all I needed was my very own HORSE. Regretfully, my former scout leader probably went home and telephoned her daughter to discuss the incident. But, on the other hand, she probably thought I was a little insensitive to have even brought the subject up with her 85-year-old mother (which might be true).
Sometimes you need to get some things off your chest.
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