I don’t know about you, but I really don’t like the idea of getting an award. Yeah, it’s nice to be appreciated for something you’ve done well, but I could do without the whole awards ceremony thing. I think it’s because of the traumatic experience I had in third grade.
When I was eight I entered a fire prevention contest. I had to draw a poster to help educate children about fire safety, and my poster was one of the winners. A fire truck came to the school to pick me up. The firemen came to my classroom and announced that I’d won and they were there take me to the award ceremony. My whole class went outside to see me off. It should’ve been very exciting, but it wasn’t. A few weeks earlier, I had gotten a very unfortunate haircut.
On the way to the fire house one of the firemen referred to me as “he” and I didn’t correct him. At the ceremony when my name was called to get my award, some boys in the front row loudly exclaimed, “It’s a girl,” and all I wanted to do was run out of the room, but I couldn’t. I spent the whole rest of the day holding back tears. Since that day I never wanted anything to do with award ceremonies ever again. Well, until the other day that is.
My husband was nominated for some jazz award. I’m so terrible because I don’t even know what the award was.
Anyway even though we usually behave like hermits, we decided to go to the ceremony/jam session. Though my husband was nominated he never got any kind of notice or invitation to the ceremony. He only found out about the ceremony because he did a gig with the person who nominated him the day before.
The awards looked like someone had sawed off a couple of table legs and painted them gold.
When they read the list of nominees not everyone’s names were on the list. People were yelling out from the audience, “What about me. I was nominated too.”
The person who announced the award left a list of the nominees and who voted for whom on the stage. Of course, everyone who was nominated got a good look at it during the jam session. It turns out that the nominees who didn’t get their names read out weren’t on the list because no one had voted for them. That’s a drag.
And, the best part of the whole evening was watching a twenty minute tap dance routine done on a carpeted floor by a guy who only knew three moves. Classic, as my husband would say, just classic.
I’ll post pictures from the evening tomorrow.