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A random little thought...
Mar. 5th, 2005 12:05 amOf the pet peeves I've inherited from my parents is my mother's abhorrence for children with food on their faces. Seriously, it is not cute. As a corollary, I'd add that children with food-stained clothes are also a sorry sight. Grass or dirt stains are fine, if the child has just been rolling around on the ground. But a kid with fruit juice stains that never completely faded in the wash seems neglected, to me. As a kid, I was always very careful about not getting food on my clothes and it always puzzled me that other kids could just dribble milk or gravy on themselves and not even bother to wipe it off.
When I was eight years old, I went to a five-day Brownie camp, where I shared a tent with a girl named Bree. She was a spoiled brat and from the way she talked, it sounded as though her parents were well-off. However, she wore the same t-shirt with food stains on the front at least three out of the five days -- and I can't beleive she had no other shirts with her, all the parents had gotten a packing list detailing everything their daughter was to take to camp. I couldn't fathom this; there she was, with parents who could buy her plenty of nice clothes and she couldn't be bothered to change out of an ugly top with crusted spaghetti sauce on it. And her parents must have come to pick her up at the camp (I rode the bus back to Ottawa with most of the other girls) because I remember seeing them, he wearing a grey suit, she wearing a rose mother-of-the-bride type of dress. Maybe that was one of the main reasons I thought they were rich, because who else but rich people would be dressed like that on a hot July day to pick up their daughter in the middle of the woods at Brownie camp? Not because they might have been attending a wedding, certainly. But I also remember thinking that her father was pretty short.
See, I have all these vivid memories of things that have no importance whatsoever, as I never saw that girl again.
When I was eight years old, I went to a five-day Brownie camp, where I shared a tent with a girl named Bree. She was a spoiled brat and from the way she talked, it sounded as though her parents were well-off. However, she wore the same t-shirt with food stains on the front at least three out of the five days -- and I can't beleive she had no other shirts with her, all the parents had gotten a packing list detailing everything their daughter was to take to camp. I couldn't fathom this; there she was, with parents who could buy her plenty of nice clothes and she couldn't be bothered to change out of an ugly top with crusted spaghetti sauce on it. And her parents must have come to pick her up at the camp (I rode the bus back to Ottawa with most of the other girls) because I remember seeing them, he wearing a grey suit, she wearing a rose mother-of-the-bride type of dress. Maybe that was one of the main reasons I thought they were rich, because who else but rich people would be dressed like that on a hot July day to pick up their daughter in the middle of the woods at Brownie camp? Not because they might have been attending a wedding, certainly. But I also remember thinking that her father was pretty short.
See, I have all these vivid memories of things that have no importance whatsoever, as I never saw that girl again.
