During a late night dinner in Little Tokyo we talked about the event we’d just been at, grad school and childhood. Well, I talked and he listened. It’s often like that when I’m around new friends. I give up all sorts of information and dominate the conversation out of fear of uncomfortable silences.
I don’t remember why I brought up childhood, but I did.
“I was a Girl Scout.”
That’s right. I was a Brownie in more ways that one. But before I sold my first box of Thin Mints in third grade, I was already a veteran of the typical suburban children’s activities. I’d played little league baseball, danced in a ballet folkórico group, sang in the Spanish and English language choirs at church and did nature-y and crafts-y things with the Girl Scouts. In high school, I focused on academics and band. I extended my band career to my first two years of college.
“What did you play?” he asked.
“Guess! No one ever guesses correctly on the first try.”
He looked at me for a moment before answering, “trombone.”
“You knew that already!” I said, assuming he’d seen that somewhere on my blog.
“No I didn’t,” he defended himself.
I continued talking more about my activity-filled childhood in Hacienda Heights.
“How long did you dance/play/sing/sell cookies?” he asked.
“A couple of years.”
“I get it. You do something for a few years and then move on.”
I was a slightly offended. He made the kid-teen version of me seem flaky. I explained that I stopped some activities because I aged out (Girl Scouts) or chose something else (band over folkórico). I’m glad I made those choices too. I had a fun childhood thanks to my parents who had the time and resources to support me and my siblings.