The friend I know with the most awards – his office shelves are in danger of
collapsing onto the head of the receptionist and knocking her unconscious in
the middle of ordering his lunch – laughed about what it would be like if
EVERYONE got an Oscar. Just for showing up on the red carpet in front of those
art deco columns.
‘Hello, welcome, here is your Oscar. Aaaaaaaaaaaand - one for your husband! He does what? Data
entry? Fabulous! We love his work.’
Obviously there are some who think that universal award-giving
deflates the value of the award. But I don’t agree. Universal oxygen does not
deflate the value of having it.
This posits that winning an award is tantamount to
breathing. When in fact what I want to suggest is that breathing is tantamount
to winning an award. We just don’t think of it that way.
Not until someone has shoved a pillow over our face or our
SCUBA gear has packed up at six fathoms deep. Then, if Jack Nicholson were to
show up in a designer submarine, brandishing an Oscar and mouthing the words
‘Congratulations!’ while offering air to
the schmuck in the suit next to you – you wouldn’t feel like a winner. You’d
think ‘Jack! Throw me a tank! I don’t NEED the statue! I don’t WANT the statue,
it’s HEAVY, I’ll take the Air!!’
But no, you hadn’t been nominated for oxygen. Only for Best
Supporting Actor in Best Short Film Live Action (Two Reels).
Awards are in the eyes of the beholder.
I worked in prisons on and off for three years. I
facilitated workshops for The Forgiveness Project, a glorious organisation that
explores forgiveness through real stories – stories of people who have
experienced criminal trauma and made the decision to forgive. The guys who took
the course often lived on the ragged edge of life, exposed to treatment that would have levelled creatures of a lesser species. At the
end of the three-day workshop every participant got a certificate of
attendance. An award.
We sat in a circle, 25 of us. We’d bonded, after our three
days of hearing and telling stories, doing role play and reading journal entries,
and no one wanted to leave. The prison governor stood at the front of the
room calling names. One of our staff stood beside him, giving the certificates
and shaking hands.
The men would rise from their chairs as their names were
called, to huge applause. They beamed. Some cried. One confided, gazing at the paper that had been printed off in the
Forgiveness Project office two days earlier, ‘I’ve never won a thing in my
life.’
We get to decide what counts.
I was in Paris last month, visiting the city with my family
who had flown from Canada to spend the season in Europe. I don’t see them often
enough and every moment in their company is a joy.
Strolling down the streets of Montparnasse en route to an
evening by the Seine, my sister asked ‘What’s on your bucket list, Steph? What
do you want to do before you die?’
I’ve thought about this. My answers were quick to hand.
‘I’d like to learn to tie knots,’ I said. ‘You know, good
ones. I want to speak fluent French. And I’d like to win a BAFTA.’
That is an award from the British Academy of Film and
Television Arts. I think it would look good on my desk. Well, I don’t actually
have a desk but if I had a desk, it would look good on it.
My sister was two steps behind. She quickened her stride
to catch up. She looked down into my face, her eyebrows raised.
‘A bathtub?’ she said. (She’s from Canada.
They have different awards.)
Two days later we were ascending the charming and
history-steeped streets of Montmartre, six of us looking for a café with a
view and good food, maybe tables in the shade. I was arm-in-arm with my bilingual
nieces, trying to get them to speak French so I could pick it up, when I felt a
hand on my shoulder. I turned and saw my sister pointing straight ahead.
‘There it is, Steph!! Just what you wanted!’
I looked in the direction she indicated. I saw what she
meant. I ran up the hill, my family followed, I stood before them and made my speech. And as humbled and
honoured as I was to win what you see on the bottom right of your screen –
a life’s goal, my heart’s desire – I think the greatest achievement I could
ever hope to know is the love and faith of the six hilarious, kind-hearted,
generous-spirited supporters and fans recording the event for posterity:
 | |
| Stephanie wins her first Bathtub. (Photo by Graham Young) |
