Post #173 – Women’s Memoirs, ScrapMoir – Matilda Butler and Kendra Bonnett
Memories Expressed in Memoir Vignettes
A memory triggered by the calendar. It happens. Sometimes a memory comes rushing at us from a scent wafting through the living room. Sometimes a sight brings a long-lost memory. Memories are so precious and it is important to write about them. Today, Women’s Memoirs is pleased to publish a memoir vignette by Sara Etgen-Baker. Perhaps it will trigger a memory from your past. That’s one of the benefits of reading stories.
Then, after your memory has been sparked, we invite you to write your own memoir vignette about something special that happened in a March in your life.
MARCH’S PROMISE
By Sara Etgen-Baker
Spring’s sweet aroma drifted through March’s open windows signaling that promising days were just beyond the living room window where I stood ironing my Girl Scout uniform in preparation for tonight’s annual Father-Daughter banquet. My mind wandered as I breathed in the smell of freshly cut grass and the intoxicating scent of mother’s honeysuckle. The March afternoon was mild and bright with the breath of spring stirring as it wove a spectacular green gown that clad the entire neighborhood. The soft air outside—like a butterfly with frail blue wings—enhanced the beauty of the pink and white plum tree blossoms where the hummingbirds now danced.
I longed to remain a child and linger in March’s splendor, but mother’s steam iron spewed and hissed at me commanding me to return to my task. So, I guided the iron—heavy in my hand—carefully removing the wrinkles from the collar, sleeves, bodice, and skirt of my crisp, new green uniform. As I pressed, the voice of fear pounced on me like a wild beast as I wondered to myself, “What if I forget the words to the Girl Scout Promise? What will I do?” Although I’d said the Girl Scout Promise every month since I’d been a Brownie Scout, tonight I’d say the Promise in front of an entire group of people including my father, the mayor, other adults, and my fellow Girl Scouts as I officially received my patrol leader cords.
So, I stood at the ironing board repeatedly voicing the Girl Scout Promise:
“On my honor, I will try: To serve God and my country, to help people at all times, and to live by the Girl Scout Law.”
Once I was satisfied that my uniform was properly pressed, I retired to my bedroom where I stepped into the dress carefully adjusting the dark green elastic belt around my plump waistline. I then slipped on my delicate, white socks with the official Girl Scout trefoil emblem; stepped into my black patent-leather shoes; wrapped my badge sash over my shoulder; and brushed my hair nervously pinning my dark green, beret-like hat on top of my head. Before leaving my bedroom, I glanced in the mirror and remembered to pull on my white gloves.
While waiting in the living room for my father, I opened the father-daughter dinner box my mother and I had prepared earlier that day. Inside we had placed two portions of my father’s favorite foods—southern fried chicken, mashed potatoes, biscuits, cream gravy, and peanut butter cookies. Before closing the lid, I shut my eyes, inhaled the comforting aroma, and imagined how the evening’s events would unfold.
At that moment my father appeared in the living room meticulously dressed donning his two-piece, dark blue suit, and complementary navy paisley tie. He looked uncomfortable inside his stiff, properly-starched white shirt and its button-down collar. Even though my father was a plumber by trade—rarely wearing a suit—he promised my mother that he would wear his one-and-only suit tonight. I almost cried, though, when I glanced at my father’s rough, calloused hands and noticed him awkwardly fiddling with his cufflinks and tie clasp—evidently unable to open and attach them.
I looked in his eyes as silent understanding passed between us. I tenderly removed the cufflinks and tie clasp from his hands, placing them on his shirt and tie. His eyes danced as he smiled then extended his arm to me escorting me out the front door saying, “You look beautiful tonight, Sweetie Pie. Are you ready for this evening?”
“I think so, daddy, but I’m afraid and nervous about saying the Promise!”
“No need to be skittish; know that I’m proud of the young woman and leader you’re becoming. So, remember—when you’re time comes—look at me and no one else when you say the Promise. You’re gonna be okay—I promise!”
Reassured with my father’s words, my fear subsided; but when we arrived at the banquet hall and my father pushed open the door, my heart jumped into my throat. In that instant, my father grabbed my hand, giggled, and said, “Follow me. Quickly now!”
With that, he ushered me to a table located front and center directly in front of the speaker’s podium. “Remember, he whispered, “I’ll be right here in front of you.”
After dinner and conversation, we Scouts cleared the tables; then the leadership installation ceremony began with the mayor moving toward the speaker’s podium addressing us Girl Scouts and our fathers.
“I am honored to be here tonight to recognize March as “Girl Scout Month” in our community. I’ve long recognized the important role Girl Scouts play in our community and our homes. Tonight I am privileged to acknowledge a new group of Girl Scouts who’ve been chosen as patrol leaders in their respective troops. So, as I call your name please step to the front to receive your patrol leader cords.”
When my name was called, I stood up initially feeling a bit like a timid fawn as it hesitates with fear even when it knows that it must take its first steps away from the comforting warmth of its mother’s side. Surprisingly, though, the podium and the noisy expanse of the room—like the forest—held an intriguing allure, for the sights, sounds, and scents made me want to run, dart, and leap. I paused, for at that second I acknowledged something I’d never acknowledged before—the juxtaposition of fear and celebration.
Then my father’s words snapped me back to reality. “Sweetie Pie, don’t listen to the voice of fear. Now’s your time to be courageous.”
I quickly made my way to the podium where my troop leader pinned my patrol leader cords on my left shoulder and handed me a candle stating, “A patrol leader wears a cord on her left shoulder as a sign of her office. The cord has two gold circles, which represent two circles of people the patrol leader serves: her own patrol and the whole troop…Do you promise to do your best to be serve your troop well?”
I lighted my candle and said, “Yes. I light this candle as a symbol of my promise to do my best to serve my troop well.”
After receiving our cords, we patrol leaders assembled in a horseshoe formation with our troop leader asking us to repeat the Patrol Leader’s Oath. Before returning to our seats, I bravely stepped to the podium, raised three fingers on my right hand, and without a single stutter asked my fellow scouts to follow along as I said the Girl Scout Promise.
Afterwards, my father—a simple man of few words—shared these enduring words with me: “I’m incredibly proud of you for overcoming your fear. Many times in your life you will be afraid just like you were tonight. Whenever you are afraid, I want you to remember that behind fear lays the promise of courage. Courage—once discovered—is as perennial as a river that flows forever in your soul.”
My father’s words—March’s promise—are like indelible ink and are permanently scribed into my memory and my heart.
We invite you to leave Sara a note in the Comments section below. I know she would appreciate you thoughts on her story.
Memoir Writing Prompts:
1. Let your mind go back to a March in your past. Does one stand out? Were you a child? An adult? Does the memory focus just on you or are other members of your family involved? This of this memory as a mini-story. Become a storyteller and write this memory.
