Awards

   On the wall of what is affectionately known as ‘David’s Hole’ hangs an interesting collection of debris: mirrors (to keep the vampires in line), masks (offering various views into the souls of the artists), sculptures (from the crucified Christ to a commemorative bottle of bourbon (sadly empty), pictures of angels, a close up of a sculpture of a Madonna, an elderly woman walking past a grave yard, fishermen bringing boats onto the beach, waves breaking, the Giants winning the Super Bowl, a sea bird in flight, , Marilyn holding down her skirt,  the church where I grew up, the twin towers (lots a pictures).  Then there’s a shaggy doll of Gerry Garcia, a clay casting of an Assyrian battle plaque, a Chinese Dog, a Butterfly in a plastic case, a muskrat’s skull, an amethyst geode, a silver trophy given to my father for being first in his class in high school, crossed foils, my high School varsity letter, two bronze medals for college fencing, a nautical map of a section of the Maine coastline, Ethiopian spear heads, a fork made by my grandfather, a brass fire nozzle, homemade knives (not by me), a Goofy hat from Disney World, a Celtic cross covered with fish and sea monsters, a whale tooth, a dragon claw (novel in the works), a cork board, a hanging plant, and a ton of books (or at least half a ton).  There are other things I haven’t mentioned, awards given in honor of some things I did along the way. 

   Awards are nice.  They say nice things.  They bring back memories.  They remind us that somebody is watching and appreciating.  But in some ways all the ‘debris’ on the walls and shelves of my ‘hole’ are awards.  They commemorate days lived, adventures come home from, glimmers of beauty and glory that lit my life. On my desk is a picture of my birth family with my kids, gathered on a sand dune just after my mother’s funeral, yelling at the camera, and next to it is a close up of my wife.  Are they awards?  More like blessings living outside of time forming me as surely as everything I’ve been recognized for and managed to collect. 

   All our lives have awards.  We just have to claim them and treasure them.  They are invested with the power of the moments that brought them into our lives.  Don’t be afraid of such debris.  I knew a guy who collected rocks.  Each one had a name that reminded him from where it came and what had happened in his life there.  It was a hard collection to move around.  We don’t need monuments.  We just need to appreciate the miracle of life as it comes to us and open ourselves to our role in it.    

   As Bobby Burns said:

                        I burned the candle at both ends, it did not last the night

                        But oh my foes and ah my friends, it gave a wondrous light.