HAGEN: The American cookie jar

I  spot the pack of small children from afar. Five or six little girls are approximately 50 feet away. All dressed alike, they are bubbly and chatty. I rabidly charge at them with wild eyes and a frothing mouth, money clutched tightly in my paws. I have spotted my prey: a carton filled with small purple boxes. “Give me all of your Samoas!” I manage to choke out. Yes, it is Girl Scout cookie huntin’ season.

One of the Brownies informs me that what I want is actually called “Caramel deLights” (seriously, their spelling, not mine) and that my meager six dollars will afford me one box. As if I was in the backroom of a Chinatown store, I try and bargain her down and almost succeed – tears means I am winning – until her leader swoops in and tells me that there is a fixed price and haggling is not tolerated. Especially with a 10-year-old. I retreat with my single measly package and in an act of incredible willpower, eat only half the box in a sitting.

I am not alone in my uncontrollable passion for Girl Scout cookies. In the past few weeks I have yet to find a classmate who does not only know what they are but also goes into an epileptic fit of joy when they hear they are on sale at the George Sherman Union. These treats are one of the few enduring American traditions. Along with baseball and overzealous patriotism it is a uniquely American custom passed from generation to generation.

The other evening I was discussing my favorite childhood foods with my roommate. We made an extensive list extolling the delicious merits of Dunkaroos, Lunchables, Fruit by the Foot and Capri Sun. We could forever poetically wax on about these pieces of nutritious nostalgia, but these snacks are very specific to the period of our early childhood: the ‘90s. Girl Scout cookies, on the other hand, are the food of our entire country’s childhood. They have been sold since 1917 and so almost every citizen alive today has always known a world in which Girl Scout cookies and thus, civilization, have existed.

It is not only the tastiness of the treat which gets people excited about them, but also how they are sold. Even my 5-year-old self (bowl haircut, buggy eyes, chipmunk cheeks, you get the picture) becomes adorable when I put my blue Daisy smock on. Neighbors knew they didn’t need 10 boxes of these sugar-coated, trans-fat filled disks of diet-busting goodness, but justified their spending on the fact that they were doing it for the precious (or in my case, quasi-cute) children.

The opportunity to become a saleswoman at such a young age taught me a lot of lessons about life, many of which parallel things I am learning today. For example, I found out that becoming the top-seller of cookies for your troop had nothing to do with skill or marketing talent. No, what matters most is how many co-workers your parents have and how many boxes they can sell at work. Coincidentally, I find myself in the same position now as I search for post-graduation jobs. It’s not about what college graduates know or who they know but rather who their parents know. Teaching tykes about the importance of nepotism over personal merit may seem cynical but it’s the way of the world. I know it’s harsh, but feel better, here’s a Tagalong.

Girl Scout cookies teach our youngest generations lessons for tomorrow, but more importantly, they allow all of the older generations, regardless of background, to enjoy a piece of yesterday. Unlike many countries, America is not known for having its own particularly strong food tradition and any specialties the nation has to offer are regionally-specific. If you are not convinced, go to Georgia and order a New England clam chowder. You’ll see what I mean. Girl Scout cookies are simply iconic and can practically be found in every kitchen of every generation in every part of the country.

Furthermore in a nation often severely divided not only by regional food, but also by politics, Girl Scout cookies are one thing there is no bipartisanship about. Whether you like to gnaw on the communist propaganda of Keith Olbermann or prefer to lap up biased-laced feculence which spews from the toilet known as Fox News, the one thing the left and right can feast upon together are a sleeve of sweet refreshing Thin Mints. A bill to make Girl Scout cookies the official national food would undoubtedly sweep through Congress unanimously (and also be the first constructive thing Capital Hill has done all year).

So take part in the great American tradition of Girl Scout cookie consumption. Remember, they are only on sale for a short while until they again disappear and we must undergo another dark, bleak 11 months until they re-emerge. One more thing: if you don’t already, put your Thin Mints in the freezer and eat them frozen. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.

Steph Hagen is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences and a weekly columnist at The Daily Free Press. She can be reached at shagen@bu.edu.