Original Watercolor Depiction of Generation X Girls in their 1970s Girl Scout Uniforms. This artwork was commissioned for jenX67.com | All Rights Reserved, but please feel free to pin!
When I was in high school, I put together a scrapbook of things I’d held onto from childhood. We moved around a lot, so it’s a miracle that I was able to save anything at all, but somehow, I held onto these Girl Scout membership cards including one from 1977.
It’s hard to imagine that they meant so much to me at one time, but they did. Even with my name misspelled, it’s like they were some proof that I existed in the world. I was officially a person. I had a membership card and my name was on it. I must be very important — or so I thought.
1977 Girl Scout Membership Card
This card — ID Number 30033878334 — was issued by Girl Scout Troop 00017, 586 Permian Basin, in October 1977. The troop was located in Kermit, Texas, where I lived during 4th and 5th grade. (Go, Yellowjackets!)
I never had a picture taken in my Girl Scout uniform, but what I remember about it most is what I loved about it best: the gold flashes I wore at the top of my dark green knee socks. They were those gold fringy-flag things attached to elastic. I also wore them as a Brownie, except they were orange.
I searched for Girl Scout pictures from 1977, so you could see what I’m talking about, but all I found were stories about the three Girl Scouts from Oklahoma who were murdered that year at Camp Scott. And, who could forget? Doris was 10. Michelle was nine. Lori was eight.
I was nine when they died, and the crime has never been solved.
Until tonight, I never realized this card was issued the same year those girls were lost. They were Gen-Xers, you know. Just like Charlotte Kinsey and Cinda Pallett, two Oklahoma girls who went missing from the Oklahoma State Fair in 1981. They were 13 at the time; both born in 1968, and just a year younger than me. Unlike the girl scouts, they’ve never been found.
During the early 80s, my parents and I often visited family in Oklahoma City. One time, we stopped at the toll booth on the turnpike and the attendant handed us a flyer with information about the missing girls. I kept that flyer for a long time. In those days before the Internet, I often wondered if the girls had ever been found.
I’ve never forgotten any of these tragedies or the shadows they cast on my childhood. My father never let me go on Girl Scout campouts or door-to-door selling cookies. And every September, when the fair comes to town, I always think of Charlotte and Cinda.
Hell will freeze over before my kids ever go camping or to the fair without me. I wish this stuff hadn’t affected me as it did, but the truth is I’m a bit messed up because of it all. These girls’ deaths had a big impact on me, and seeing my little Girl Scout card from 1977 — I don’t know — it kind of takes my breath away. I’ve got this tattered scrap of paper from that era and it bears my little girl name and I stare at it and wonder: Was my survival random or destiny? Why them and not me?
Here is the card from the troop I was a member of in 1983. Troop 08196, Council 529 Meadowlark.
Throughout my school years, I had an OK time in Brownies and Girls Scouts. I don’t remember going to many meetings or earning any badges, but once I made a toy for a sick kid in the hospital, and another time I learned to make homemade egg rolls.
Original Watercolor Depiction of Yours Truly, as I might have looked in my Girl Scout uniform, circa 1976-1979. This artwork is exclusive to jenX67.com | All Rights Reserved, but please feel free to pin!
In recent years, I’ve been a troop leader and am now a regular volunteer. My little girl loves the tradition of the uniform, so I spare no expense in buying her the whole giddup. In the back of my mind, I’m always thinking about how fleeting and fragile it all is — time and us. Green grass that withers. Daisies that fade.
One thing is for sure; none of those deaths were wasted on me. They were lamps in the heavy fog of life. Amber light driving through the hard snow, and they have driven so much of my gratitude. I am so glad to be alive; to have survived girlhood and made it all the way to motherhood. Every day has been a bridge to the next, and then the next, and so forth and so on. I’m still here, and no passage is too small not to cherish with a prayer of thanksgiving.
Jennifer – just read this, and I’ve had a lot of the same thoughts about fate and our larger purpose. I’ve lost some friends in car wrecks and to disease, and come out of the experience wondering how I’ve survived for this long (we’re about the same age).
My kids are involved in Scouting, and they camp out whenever time permits. As much as I enjoy the great outdoors, I try to not go with their troop on many of the campouts. It can be nerve-wracking, especially for a week at residence camp, but it is necessary. It’s amazing how much they grow after only one week away and under capable adult supervision. Boy Scout troops are to be boy-led, with guidance provided by Scoutmasters.
Also, as a Cub Scout leader, we would take the kids camping (with the parents, of course) for a weekend just to give them a taste of the outdoors and get them ready for the Boy Scouts. We always scheduled some down time, where we would let the kids go off into the woods and let them just do whatever they wanted to do. Of course, they weren’t far from the camp site. We could still see what they were doing, and quickly intervene if necessary.
They naturally took to climbing the trees, building shelters, playing tag and splitting into “tribes”. Reminded me of my childhood. And it wasn’t just the boys. I went on a Girl Scout outing with my daughter, and we did the same thing with the GS troop. Guess what – the girls did the same thing when we let them play in the woods near their cabins.
We are doing our kids a disservice by not letting them out of the house and filling our roles as helicopter parents. I hope as a society we can get over our fear of the boogieman and evil clowns so maybe our grandchildren can experience life a little less sheltered. It’s more fun.
I know what you’re saying is true. It just scares me so much! I admire you for being able to let them go and experience the great outdoors. I have found an outdoor for my son during daylight hours where he is outside and I’m not there. He’s with other adults and kids — and he is having such a great time. I hope I can find a similar activity for my daughter. Thank you, Marty!
Hey Jenn fellow gen xer…I remember the 70’s vaguely being born in 72. But most of my recollection is the 80’s. Playing atari and coloecovision and wearing underroos of my favorite superhero. Watching whats happening and happy days, laverne and shirley and the jokers wild. They were the good ole days, days when you come home and play in the neighborhood and come in when the street lights were coming on. Mom telling you to get outside and run the stink off and the neighbor could smack you if you got out of line. What i wouldnt give to hear my dad call us kids at dark time one more time….cheers
Sweet memories. I remember when they came out with Underoos for girls. I’d love to hear my dad say my name one more time, too. And, to this day, I love to be out in the street right before the street lights come on. Thanks for stopping by, Wayne. jen