A few months ago, I volunteered to help with the annual camp out for Girl Scouts in my area in November. It’s a very big deal, the highlight of the entire Girl Scout annual experience for girls in this area — and it will be the highlight of some of these girls entire Girl Scout experience.
At the time I volunteered, it was several months away. I was unemployed, feeling worthless and so tired of a life devoid of any social activities. Plus, there’s a big rift among the Girl Scout troops in this area; a lot of people who should be volunteering aren’t. This was my way to show support for all of us coming together and helping, regardless of various differences.
So the weekend is approaching. Of course, now, the timing isn’t great; Stefan and I haven’t had a weekend together in a while, because he’s had to travel. And I’m missing the premiere of the next-to-last Harry Potter movie, but I thought, okay, I got to read the last Harry Potter book the day before it came out in the USA and hours before it came out in Europe, so I’m not going to complain. Besides, we can go Thanksgiving weekend, as we have no other plans, and I do know how it ends…
And this morning, my brother informed me that the University of Kentucky men’s basketball team will be playing in Portland on Friday.
Yes, I wept. No kidding. I had a big, long cry. My face is still a little swollen.
Believe it or not, I have seen the UK men’s team play only once my entire life. Yes, you read that right. Just once. December 1980. Against Maine. Chuck Verderber missed the game – out for an appendectomy (first game he missed for that). It was a blowout by UK. It was fantastic.
But I never got another opportunity to go. Years passed.
The team never came to New England the two years I lived there after college. The team came to San Jose the year after I moved to Austin, Texas. When they played in San Antonio for the NCAA final, I called every person I could think of to get tickets – to no avail. And then they finally did come to Austin — but I had moved to Germany.
And after 30 years, I still won’t get to see them. Because I have a commitment to keep. If I don’t go on Friday, I leave about five adults and more than 60 kids in the lurch. And I send a really lousy message to Girl Scouts.
When I posted about this to Facebook, I was looking for “Wow, you are such a martyr, what a huge sacrifice on your part, what incredible character you have, you’re like Gandhi.” What I got instaed was “Oh, forget the Girl Scouts, they’ll get over it, commitment shommitment.”
I know I’m doing the right thing. But, geesh, it hurts so bad…
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