The Girl Scouts were setting up a folding table by the doors of the hardware store.
“Omigod,” I said to the cashier. “It’s March.”
The cashier looked at me flatly.
“Debit or credit?” she said.
“This is March,” I pointed out again. “Don’t you know what this means?“
She said nothing.
“It means cookies,” I said.
She cleared her throat. “Sir. There’s a line.”
I paid for my wares, then hurried out to the Girl Scout cookies. I did a quick inventory check, using my cookie-sonar to investigate the boxes on the Scouts’ table.
I was not looking for Trefoils or Do-si-dos, Tagalongs, Lemon-Ups, or Adventurefuls. Neither Samoas nor Toffee-Tastics. I was looking for a uniquely mint-chocolatey cookie which is an American institution in and of itself; a cookie that tastes like I’m about to transition to wearing sweatpants full time.
“Do you have any Thin Mints?” I asked the little girls.
The girl who answered was very matter-of-fact. Her name was Mary Kate. And from the looks of her sash, she is an overachiever.
“Yes. We have Thin Mints.”
One of the Scout moms whispered. “Ask him if he’d like some.”
Another Scout answered. Her voice was quiet. Her name was Amelie. She was also a highly decorated officer.
“How many boxes?” she asked.
I wanted to say, “I’ll take as many as you can sell me without losing your jobs.” But I showed restraint. I only asked for seven boxes.
I am a big fan of the Girl Scouts. In a modern age when nearly every classic American pastime is belittled and threatened, I like knowing the Girls Scouts are still kicking.
This nation has lost sit-down family dinners, newspapers, even the sport of baseball has undergone modern rule changes. (There is no clock in baseball.)
The Boy Scouts have been the victim of culture wars and bankruptcy. Dr. Seuss has been taken off the shelves. But the Girl Scouts keep going.
The first Girl Scout cookies trace their origins back to 1917. There was a World War on, 20 million soldiers were dying overseas.
The “Mistletoe Troop” in Muskogee, Oklahoma, started baking and selling cookies in a high-school cafeteria to raise money to send gifts to the troops. These soldiers would have been the girls’ brothers, uncles, and fathers.
The cookies became so popular by the 1920s that Girl Scouts all over the nation were using the same simple sugar cookie recipe to raise money.
Back then, the cost of ingredients was about 25 cents per each seven dozen cookies. The girls would bake several batches in one afternoon, then sell these cookies at 35 cents per dozen.
In other words, they were raking it in.
By the ‘30s about 127 Girl Scout councils in America were holding cookie sales. By the ‘50s, the cookies were a national thing, baked in commercial bakeries, delivered door-to-door by hand. By the ‘60s all Americans wore sweatpants.
The Scouts are still going strong today. Currently there are about 2.5 million Girl Scouts in 92 countries. In an average cookie-year, 1.7 million girl members will raise about $800 million.
The remarkable thing about this is that one hundred percent of the money raised stays within local councils and troops, which makes the Girl Scouts of America a uniquely run organization. Especially when compared to, say, televangelism.
The Girl Scouts support local food banks, help collect clothing and toys for shelters, aid in disaster relief efforts, such as Hurricane Helene, when multiple local troops tirelessly served affected areas, gathering supplies.
So thank you, troop 28122 of Chelsea, Alabama. Not just for the cookies, and not just for the kindness your organization espouses. You’ve helped my waist size grow by at least two inches.
Also, my heart.