It’s not about the cookies

Football is over for the year. So is baseball more or less, with spring training having just begun. The entertainment options for a major portion of the American public have gone into hibernation for the time being, awaiting the magic of spring and summer to wake them from their annual slumber.

There is a season of joy upon us, however. One that sneaks up and catches us off guard year after year. I only discovered the launch of the 2024 version of this momentous occasion as I was departing my local Publix supermarket.

Just outside the doorway, tucked into an alcove for protection from the wind and rain, stood a young girl at a table. The table was stacked with colorful boxes filled with sugary goodness in a variety of flavors and textures that immediately set my mouth to watering.

It’s Girl Scout Cookie season. Brace yourself.

In years gone by I could eat Thin Mints by the sleeve. That chocolatey crisp cookie flavored with mint just worked for me. I can probably attribute 5 or 10 pounds to my ingestion of those deviously delicious treats.

In later years I discovered Tagalongs, the peanut butter and chocolate sensation that added a whole new dimension to my snack cravings. But the icing on the cake turned out to be the Caramel deLites, more commonly known as Samoas. Left unattended I could easily work myself into a diabetic coma chomping down on an infinite supply of these caramel, coconut, and chocolate confections.

Obviously, ingesting that many calories and that much sugar in one sitting would be unwise. I lack self-control when it comes to sweets. Plop me down in front of a quantity of gelato, or pie, or certain sweet bakery products and I’ll make them disappear in no time. Being full has nothing to do with it. I’m the snack food equivalent of an alcoholic. How much do I want? All of it.

When my daughters were young they got into the Girl Scout cookie selling business pretty heavily. Being a doting dad, I helped out with all the vigor I could muster. We sold box after box, an unfortunate number of them finding their way to my own kitchen table where they ultimately deposited themselves on my waistline.

Many boxes were sold to others as well. Nobody was safe. Friends, family, co-workers were all accosted and converted to cookie customers. The money flowed in. So much money, in fact, that it tempted the troop leader enough that she took a good portion of it and got herself a boob job.

True story. That really happened. Police and lawyers and legal proceedings were the result. But that’s another story. We’re talking about the cookies, here.

My solution to that insatiable craving is to leave those sweet treats at the store. As long as they don’t make it into my house, I don’t really have much of an appetite for them. I certainly don’t have much interest in making a trip to the store just to buy something I’d be better off not having. So, I just don’t buy those things. I leave them at the store for the rest of you to struggle with.

But…how does a decent human being help these adorable little Girl Scouts and Brownies reach their financial goals? The hit to a young person’s self-esteem can be pretty uncomfortable when they’re shut out of their sales quota by jerks like me who are more interested in their health and welfare than they are in loading up the car with boxes of cookies.

Thankfully, I’ve discovered a solution over the years that works for me, works for the Girl Scouts, and tends to bring a bright shiny smile to the faces of the front-line kids who shill these tasty treats to the rest of us.

I made my way over to that table covered in boxes, staffed by a girl who couldn’t have been more than 12 years old. Maybe even younger. Her mother hovered not far away, detached but watchful.

“How much for a box of cookies?” I asked the sales girl. She told me.

“Which one is your favorite?” I inquired. She assured me they were all excellent choices. Clearly, she had some time in the game. This girl knew what she was doing.

“If you were buying a box for yourself, which one would you, buy?” I pressed. She indicated her preference. “I’ll take two boxes,” I replied. The sale was completed. I handed over a $20 bill. She made change and returned it to my hand, then picked up the boxes and extended them in my direction.

“You keep them,” I said. “I’m too old and fat to be eating that many cookies. Why don’t you share them with your friends and enjoy yourselves.”

She wins, I win, life is good.

Charity truly does begin at home. It’s possible to help boost the confidence of that young girl, bring a smile to her face, a few dollars to the coffers of the organization she represents, and save her mom and dad from having to buy an inordinate number of cookies themselves.

This is true of any fundraising endeavor.

Can you imagine what would happen if every member of every Experimental Aircraft Association (EAA) chapter threw a few bucks into a pot to start a scholarship for a local kid who wants to fly but can’t afford it? What if every local pilot’s association member did the same? Imagine if the businesses we worked for did something similar.

Inspiration, motivation, and opportunity would all converge in every community across the land for the benefit of young people who want to reach a goal but have no idea how to get there, and few resources to work with.

It’s not important that the recipients of our generosity know our names. It may not even be important that we donors know theirs. What really matters is that we extend the helping hand we wish had come our way when we were young, and ambitious, and unsure of how to reach our goals.

It’s not really about the cookies at all. It’s about making a positive difference in someone else’s life, simply because we can. And if you get to snack on a tasty cookie along the way, so much the better.