My daughter, the back alley candy dealer

"I'll sell door-to-door, but not on Main Street!"

Confused and seeking an explanation for such a statement, I launched into a futile and exasperation laden explanation that there is no difference between wearing her emblem encrusted red vest to school, at meetings, and in front of WalMart hawking boxes of candy for her Campfire cause, and wearing that same vest while she pulls her Radio Flyer full of chocolates and nuts up and down the sidewalks of the busy 4-lane that runs through our town.

I took a moment to channel the energy that spawns from the popularity of The Prairie Home Companion, Norman Rockwell's artwork, pharmacy soda fountains and a two-tone red 1957 Chevy BelAir convertible (although I'm partial to the '58 Chevy), as I explained to my 8-year old the significant impact she may have on passers-by as she takes her stock of Campfire candy down the sidewalks of Main Street.

My diatribe began with a summary definition of nostalgia, followed by a flowery explanation of the importance of preserving the past so we don't make the same mistakes over and over again.

Next we discussed the positive effects that the triggering of the neural connections that stimulate long-term memory have on both physical and mental well-being.

Finally, with a flourish of wild gesticulations, I launched into a passionate speech relaying the positive impact on the world she could have by making just one person smile, by helping them rekindle an image of a time long past, and traditions not yet forgotten.

All this by simply walking down the sidewalk of Main Street, ringing doorbells, and saying with enthusiastic authority, "Would you like to buy some Campfire candy or send a box to the Troops?"

To which I finally received my answer..."I don't want to do it because people will be honking and waving and seeing us selling candy...that's so embarrassing, Daddy."

Will I ever understand girls...even the two who spawned from my very own seed?

Not likely.