Well today was interesting.
As some of you know, two of my daughters are Girl Scouts. We love the Girls Scouts and do as much as we can to support their troops and activities.
One of the things that I do is co-coordinate cookie season. For those of you who have been involved in the world of Girl Scout cookies, you know that this is no small undertaking. And as much work as it is, I cherish the time I have had with the troop over the years.
The 2015 cookie season has begun and we had the first to two 10-hour days in the Castro District, a GREAT place to sell cookies: accessible booth locations, great foot traffic, and plenty of people watching.
99.9% of our interactions with even the most colorful of souls has been positive and a testament to raising our kids in The City. Watching our girls interact with people from varying socioeconomic conditions, gender classifications, and all else San Francisco, has made me proud, proud, proud.
Well, today that .01% made it’s way into our realities. Without going into too much detail a person with some mental health issues ended up throwing a glass bottle in the direction of the scouts, the police had to be called, and arrests were made. The girls were fine, a little taken aback, for sure, but by the end of the shift . . . it had all become a “remember when . . .” adventure story.
As the responding police officer put it, “You girls sure are tough cookies.”
This was met with the appropriate groans.
But what I was most proud of was again, the ways in which the girls treated this person — like any other customer who was coming up to support their troop and buy some cookies. There was no apprehension because of the multiple layers of tattered and mismatched clothes, there was no discomfort because the person’s gender was not easily identifiable, and there was no judgement because this adult was carrying around a fairly large stuffed teddy bear. After all, these girls had many a quirky people approach them and engage in playful banter and enthusiastic support, so they, unlike many of us who might let our jaded selves get in the way, simply treated this person as they would anyone else, with courtesy and respect.
If only more if us could be this way more of the time.
The second day of lent, while tiring — was a gift.
See you tomorrow.