I know of no one that doesn't love a fresh baked snicker doodle cookie.
More than forty years after that memorable phone call, I cannot eat, see or even hear of a snicker doodle that does not bring me back to that day.
The carrot had been dangled in front of us young girls long before we were given the assignment.
I mean, what is more American Pie than a 4H Club? Isn't that the epitome of rural America? Young kids join the 4H, they are encouraged by the selfless volunteer mothers to join in a club and then to create some entry into a local county competition of a prized steer or photography or gardening or......cookies.
Even in my rural community, there was some expectations of little girls in clubs like 4H or the Girl Scouts. Their parents had to buy the uniforms. Now in today's society, that doesn't sound like much of a stretch, does it?
Back in the late '60s, with four kids in school, purchasing a silly Girl Scouts uniform was just simply not in my parents' budget. So I, more or less seemed to have "flunked out" of the Girl Scouts. I just remember attending a couple of the meetings, which was difficult when my mother worked and wasn't able to drive me to the after school meetings and I felt out of place, sitting there among the girls all proudly outfitted in their fancy Girl Scout uniforms.
And in my mind, I cannot separate the Girl Scout meetings from the 4H meetings, except for the cookies.
Before the days of King's Island and Disney World, amusement parks were few and far between. But Indianapolis had a memorable one. Riverside Park.
At least it's memorable for me, because I cannot ever remember going there.
As part of the annual 4H county fairs, kids of all ages are encouraged to take part, leaving them with a sense of accomplishment and fun. I have a dear friend whose entire family participates, their kids, nieces and nephews spend an entire week camping out among the animals, the mothers even taking Grand Champion ribbons in the cake decorating or present wrapping contests.
But back in the late 60s, the 4H kids were led by the moms who had the convenience of being able to spend a great deal of time at the school.
Which, in my little world, meant families who had more money than we did. They were the same parents of the cheerleader girls, the one's who were popular. The ones the boys liked. The ones who seemed to rule the world. Even if that world was some tiny speck of a dot in the middle of America that meant nothing to anyone else. They ruled.
And the mothers lived vicariously through their precious little daughters, not unlike the ones you see if you catch a 30 second glimpse of Toddlers and Tiaras.
Thank you Mom, for NEVER being one of those.
But I didn't understand that back then.
I understood that I just did not fit in.
Early in the spring, the 4H mothers told us the club would all go on a trip to Riverside Amusement Park. An amusement park! An entire day at an amusement park was something a little girl could not even imagine.
Of course the 4H was and is today, known for the county fairs. The fun competitions, the bringing together the families. Everyone was expected to participate in the fair.
So I decided I would enter the 4H contest for cookies. I can still remember making them in the kitchen with my mom. Roll the dough in a small ball, run them through the cinnamon and sugar mixture and press the balls onto the cookie sheets with the bottom of a glass. I'm sure we ate more than the number of cookies I had ready for the county fair entries.
Since we knew the day at Riverside would require some additional money, my parents told me that if I picked the green beans in the garden, they would give me five dollars for spending money to enjoy my day with the other little girls. I picked a LOT of beans to earn that money.
But when I attempted to submit my baking creation, I was told that snicker doodles were not an acceptable entry. The category was "Drop Cookies". As an 8-year-old, I had no clue what they were talking about. But I quickly discovered that by forming the little round balls of dough and flattening them into that wonderful cinnamony-sugery goodness, the cookies were not just dropped onto the sheet, so they could not be entered into the county fair.
Well, okay, so we ate them instead.
But a few weeks later, the telephone rang and someone called me to the phone. Unlike today where every kid has access to phones and computers, kids did not get called at home.
I picked up the receiver and listened to Mrs. Bodine, the 4H mother. I can still hear that woman's voice ringing in my ear.
"Rita, the GIRL'S HAVE DECIDED at the last meeting that you did NOT attend, that ANYONE who did NOT enter the county fair contest would NOT be allowed to go to Riverside."
Up until that moment, the trip to Riverside had never been connected to the entry into the county fair. But supposedly a group of 8-year-olds all voted at a meeting that the two were connected and that some girls would not be invited. Yeah, you believe that, don't you?
On behalf of my little-girl-self here, I'd like to stop for a minute and think about this from an adult viewpoint.
............... OK, one more second.....................................
I'm trying to picture myself as if I'm Mrs. Bodine.
...........................................................
..........................................................
Nevermind. I'd like to be nice, but I just can't.
Someone should have bitch-slapped that broad. Excuse my French.
I'll tell you that as an 8-year-old, I was more forgiving then than I am now. I look back now and I'm infuriated. But as a little girl, I was just heart-broken. I burst into tears as my entire family stood there looking at me trying to figure out what was wrong.
My parents were not ones like we have today, where the parents rush in and berate the school over some minor infraction. They were ones that believed we should stand on our own. They would never have come our defense if we had been bullies or not respectful of our teachers. They believed in discipline.
But it took several minutes before they could even manage to get out of me why I was crying.
Where normally my parents would have stood back, I can still remember my dad looking at my mom. He said, "Either YOU call her back or I WILL."
The visions of picking those beans and realizing that Riverside was now off the table, I sat crushed in the living room floor while my mom dialed the rotary phone calling back Mrs. Bodine to find out what was going on.
Mom listened more patiently than could be imagined and then I can still hear the words she told Mrs. Bodine before she slammed the phone down on that nasty broad's ear.
"Yeah, well you are all nothing but a bunch of DAMNED SNOBS."
And they were too. And most likely they still are.
A week later, I received an invitation to attend the Riverside day. Back then I only wished I could go, but today I can tell you that I am glad my parents decided that I would never go back to another meeting of the 4H.
And the funny part is that the Bodines were not then nor now actually rich. They were just like the stupid mothers on Toddlers and Tiaras. They get their self-worth from separating themselves from simple little girls so they suddenly become worthy somehow. Hope that tiara looks good on your head, Mrs. Bodine.
How sad for them. Really.
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