Are you an award-winning pastry chef? An award-winning carpenter? How many cups, plaques and trophies do you display on your mantel?
This is America 2009, and if you’re 8 years old or more and still don’t have at least one award to your name, you’ve probably been asleep most of your life. Which might qualify you as an award-winning snoozer, if such a contest were being held.
We’re a nation of award lovers. All the way from pre-school classes to the Academy and Tony award shows, we are awash in prizes, citations, all-star recognitions and dozens of other ways of bestowing honor and glory on ourselves.
The adjective “award-winning” has become mandatory in front of the name of anyone who can claim a place in the spotlight, no matter how dim. This is especially true of blurbs and advertisements about writers. If an author cannot be truthfully called “award-winning” in his promotional ad, he/she proably should not even show his face in public.
This proliferation of awards has spread into the ranks of the military. A recent Newsweek article focused on a comparison of the very few decorations worn by such World War II warriors as Dwight Eisenhower and Chester Nimitz, and the technicolor panoply of ribbons displayed by today’s high-ranking military and naval officers. Are today’s generals and admirals more worthy of these medals than Ike and Nimitz were? I doubt it.
What’s behind our obsession with awards, recognition and other forms of being praised? Certainly one element is the deification of self-esteem that began 30 or 40 years ago. I’m not sure which guru or institute first decreed that, in rearing children the primary goal is to nurture a child’s self-esteem. Whatever made the child feel good about himself was to be desired. Anything that hurt the child’s feelings was to be avoided.
Such as not being a winner in everything the child attempted. This led to today’s common practice of giving some sort of award, or at least a memento, to every child who even shows up for a competitive event. It is also quite probably one of the roots to our national emphasis on being No. 1 in everything from college football to being the best arm wrestler at Sal’s Tavern in Parsippany, N.J.
I hope that while today’s parents and teachers are boosting the youngsters’ self-esteem, that someone whispers in the kid’s ear, “In real life, you may occasionally find yourself finishing in 57th place with a lot of other – forgive the expression – losers.”
Do other nations and cultures idolize awards the way Americans do? Do Latvians and Nepalese scatter honors about like flower petals at a wedding? Are the acceptance speeches by Latvian and Nepalese award-winners as lugubrious as what we watch every spring when the Oscars are broadcast on TV? I hope not. As I’ve mentioned before in this column, the most polished award shows are those produced by the British. As a rule, a Brit prizewinner’s thank-you remarks are self-effacing, witty, without tears and – praise God – brief. Get on, get off.
It occurs to me that one of the most common forms of award are holidays. A holiday can be viewed as an award we bestow on ourselves. After all, humans deserve holidays as a thank-you for putting up with the ordinary and humdrum during the rest of the year.
In light of all these ponderings, I’m surprised that no one has come up with a program of awards for average folks, like you and me. The possibilities are endless. We could have awards – with appropriate lapel ribbons – for “30-Year Voter,” “Best-Maintained Lawn on 23rd Avenue,” “Mother of Least Bratty Kids on the Block” and “Man Who Can Name Every Character in ‘War and Peace’.” Naturally, someone would have to write the rules and regulations for all these awards, and somehow attain agreed-upon standards. But once that hurdle is cleared we could arrive at a satisfying world in which almost everyone could sport a ribbon or two on his/her vest or blouse.
If nothing else, the ribbons would serve as conversational ice-breakers at social functions.
“Excuse me, but what is that purple-and-green ribbon for?” “I received it for having the Most Artistic Thigh Tattoos in Largo for 2006.” “Oh, wonderful. Perhaps you could show me, some time. My name is Harry.” “I’m JoAnne. I’ll think about it.”
