On the second Monday of every month
at 7 in the evening I find myself wondering,
“Who is Robert?” At my very first 4-H meeting when I turned 8
last March, Debbie’s Mom, our adult leader, explained to me all about Robert
and his Rules of Order. I drew the conclusion right then and there that Robert
must have influenced everything that
had to do with celebrating the four “H’s”—head, heart, hands and health. My awe
of him flourished, endowing 4-H with an elevated otherworldly mystique bordering on a religious experience. In time
I even concocted an entire epic about Robert’s magical powers. He is my hero
and makes it possible for 4-H to sweep me up and provide me a safe place.
My big brother, this year’s club
President, hits the wooden gavel twice on the desk and calls the meeting to
order. First we cross our hearts with our right hands and pledge allegiance to
the flag of the United States of America. Then we pledge our lives to the 4-H
flag. The flags are about 4 inches long and stand side by side in a plastic
base that is the color of metal. When my brother ceremonially unfurls the flags
each month I actually feel like I am standing taller than usual.
The power of mystery pulls me into
the 4-H meetings like nothing I’ve ever experienced. The rituals, undoubtedly
created by Robert and his rules, mesmerize me. It is kind of like being at
church only without God and Jesus and the Holy Ghost. It’s not that they aren’t
here, too. It’s just that this club
is about having fun and making stuff and square dancing and cooking and sewing
and collecting bugs and raising vegetables and farm animals.
The Victory 4-H Club makes my heart
sing, that’s for sure. It is the only place in my life where I
know for certain I belong hook line
and sinker. When I am doing something that has to do with 4-H, I feel like I am
part of a community. Isn’t it odd that I live in such a small town but feel
like an outsider? My mother’s unspoken attitudes about the people who live here
have probably rubbed off on me. She seems to almost dislike the farmers who
come into the lumberyard. And among the folks who live in town, there are only
a few she really trusts. Of course, she is always
nice to everyone—they all love her
and I don’t think they have any idea how she really feels. But I know. It is obvious she feels different from
them. Not better than them, just not the same. That makes me feel lonely and
sad and afraid to admit because it means when I want to get close to people,
Mom discourages me with a few harsh words and a look.
Whenever I go to a 4-H activity,
however, it is like I am dropped off at the front door of heaven and set free.
I can be a friend with any of them.
We are all part of the same club, and even though they are the very same kids Mom dislikes when we’re
not at 4-H, here it is okay. I am
certain Robert must have an enormous part in providing me this place where I
can connect with people. I just love being part of something greater than my
family and myself.
Tonight, our main “order of business”
is to decide which float we are going
to make for the county fair parade. Mom has been brainstorming ideas and
designing floats all afternoon on thin paper with colored pencils. The idea I
like best seems like it might be the hardest to make. For that one she asks my
dad if he could build an 8-foot frame and cover it with chicken wire to form
the structure of a giant globe. Then, the Saturday before the parade, us kids
would stuff the chicken wire with napkins. The napkins are supposed to look
like the flowers on the floats in the Rose Bowl parade.
We will create the world in just one
day. The continents will be green, because that is the 4-H color and the oceans
will be white because that is the color of most of the napkins. Hanging down
from the bed of the lumberyard’s big delivery truck, a skirt will say; “4-H
Builds A Friendly World”. I like this idea a lot, even though it sounds like
we’re going to need a lot of help from our parents and all of us kids working hard to make it happen. A motion is made and seconded and in an
instant it has been decided that this is the
float we are going to make. I join the others in shouting out my “yes!
As the next order of business is brought up I
let my mind wander. My eyes fall on the adults who are sitting in the back of
the room. Some are not just parents but are also leaders of different 4-H
activities. I really love when a small group of us kids goes to one of their
homes. There is something about the adult attention at those times I don’t get
anywhere else in my life. They share what they love and I really feel it. Even when I’m participating in
an activity I don’t like, I am inspired. When they encourage me with their
exhilarating stories while relating to me—it
feels like the whole world has fallen completely away and there is nothing left
but that activity leader and me.
Take Mrs. Flowers, for instance. Last
week I went to her farm just outside of town out by the cemetery to learn how
to make vegetable soup. First, all six of us girls put on bibbed aprons and
were given little paring knives. We drew little papers out of a hat to pick a
vegetable to cut up to put into the soup. I got okra. Since my mother hates
okra I had never tried it. I understood why as soon as I made the first chop.
The insides were slimy and stringy. I was completely disgusted and wanted to go
home. I felt envious of Linda Luberg’s carrots that she was slicing into perfectly flat round
disks and the green beans Debbie Kittleman was happily snapping in her fingers.
When the soup was done, it tasted delicious and did not, due to my insistence,
include okra.
My Auntie Margo is the sewing leader.
She has “the patience of Job with those kids” everyone says. I don’t have any
idea who Job is, but I love Auntie Margo, even though I don’t like sewing. I
did feel like a grown up, though, when she taught me to thread the sewing
machine by myself. You would never guess how her shiney black Singer with fancy
gold letters comes right out of the top of a wooden cabinet that looks like a
table. As many times as I’ve been to her house I never imagined her sewing
machine was tucked away like that!
Mrs. Luberg is my favorite activity
leader. I am crazy about how excited she gets when she shares what she enjoys.
No matter what activity we do with her, it is fun. She really takes Robert’s
magic to a whole new level and shares it with us until we squeal. Her real job
is teaching junior high reading and English. But her true calling is being a
4-H activity leader. At least, that’s what I think. I especially love it when
she gets us square dancing. She makes dos-e-does and ale-my-lefts feel like
we’ve been doing them all our lives. I don’t even mind wearing a red-checked gingham
skirt or touching cooty boy hands.
Mildred McClurgh is a sophisticated
and stylish woman. She fascinates me for two reasons. First, she is the only
person in our town who has ever gotten divorced. And secondly, Mildred is one
of the people my mother trusts. Mrs. McClurgh is preparing us for the fashion
show at the fair. This is the first year I have ever done this so I don’t yet
know how uncomfortable and hysterical I am going to feel in front of a bleacher
full of people watching as I stop and turn left and then turn right and pause to pose
with one foot at a slight angle behind the other. Mrs. McClurgh is sensitive
and friendly. She looks me right in the eyes when she talks. Just being around
her makes pushing through this seemingly useless activity tolerable.
Before I know it, it is time to
adjourn the meeting. The flags and their base are slipped back into their box
and the gavel taps two times--signaling the meeting is officially over. After
refreshments I am spinning from the sugar in the pop and cupcakes. The room is
swirling. It feels like I am inside a snow globe. Everyone is gathering their
belongings and getting ready to go home.
Parents are talking while their children run amuck. Some boys are
chasing each other with their thumbs over the end of their pop bottles, shaking
them as they run.
I climb into the back of our Chrysler
between my brother and sister for the ride home. The next thing I remember is
being woken up so I can walk into the house to go to bed. In that slip of time
between sleeping and nearly being awake, I am so full of joy and gratitude I
think I might explode. Before I slip into bed I thank Robert for everything he
does to make the Victory 4-H Club so incredible! I am floating on the feeling of happiness and am fully renewed by the experience of belonging. “Thank you, Robert, for everything!”
