The Little Lady

I barely know how to tell the story of Reginald. You've heard about him all your life; I can say almost all my life, since I'm older, and even though it seems like he's been around forever, he's still mortal like us all.

Somewhere in the world right this minute someone's in need of Reginald. History's shown that. And he's answered the call over and over. He's may not always be the first on the scene -- that's the province of attention-seekers and the vain -- but sooner rather than later, he comes calling. To soothe ruffled feathers, if that's what it takes, but more generally to act as oil on troubled waters. And more than once he's laid down his life for the world, only to take it up again. He's the first among his peers.

There's been a few times, myself, when I've been in the right place at the right time. It's then I have to pinch myself; 'Am I really here?' Life is sometimes like a dream. I pinch myself, and, yes, I'm really here! That happened at the latest awards ceremony for Reginald. With Izora, The Little Lady, at his side.

It was a grand affair. If you've never been, you really must. The decorations were extensive. Various banners and flags of the grateful nations. I kept pinching myself; that's just my way. I expect good things to come my way and I've never been disappointed. But I'm not always so optimistic that I can take anything for granted. Which I'd also expect to be the outlook of any well-rounded person, and here I'm thinking of Reginald and The Little Lady. They're realistic folk.

Anyway, enough about me. I could go on and on, but... A raft of speakers preceded Reginald, each singing his praises in a higher key. Until he was finally introduced to applause that rang out like the thunder. No one saw it happen, but it must've been right about here that The Little Lady disappeared. I hadn't noticed. All eyes were on Reginald making his way to the podium. What confidence, what a stride; cocks of the walk are only half as grand.

Reginald shared how honored he was for such a grand reception. He took his sweet time to speak of his company, his friends' companies, as well as the various governments and their good administrations paving the way for good. These are essential stepping stones in the work of diplomacy, whether on a grand scale or in the intricate and meticulous dealings that also have to take place. It's all important. Like cogs and gears and things operating smoothly.

As Reginald spoke, I thought what a stunning profile he makes. Others were no doubt studying him too as an example of inspiration. Certainly any naysayers kept it to themselves. As they should, anyone whose heart would be that dark. There couldn't have been anyone that far gone, but these days you never know.

This evening was an evening of evenings, an event to be sure. When the massive piles of awards, ribbons, trophies, and what-not Reginald had accrued over the years would be traded in for "The Simple Star" award. You don't get any simpler than The Simple Star. But equally, you don't get any higher honors than The Simple Star. If it's ever been passed out before in our time, I've never heard of it. The Lord himself had one over his crib, but that's the only precedent I know of. Until Reginald.

The man spoke simply and elegantly of the honor he felt. And how he would continue on, to the extent we would allow. He thanked all the guests for coming. And reserved his last words for The Little Lady, Izora. Every eye scanned the dais to pick her out, but she wasn't there! Reginald himself looked about, a little confused, until a smile played across his face. I nearly snapped a picture but my phone was down to 10% and giving me fits.

Reginald called to Jimmy, an aide at the door, and had him step out and see if he could find The Little Lady. For she had already slipped away and was in the kitchen, supervising and helping the clean-up crew! In her own wonderful way, like always, showing modesty and service going beyond the call of duty. She's seen enough awards given out, to her this was just more of the same. For her, service to the world, that's also her calling.

They nearly had to drag The Little Lady out; that's how reluctant she was to stop her work. But out she finally came, to the greatest ovation. She tossed her apron to Jimmy at the door and made her way to the dais. Reginald lifted her arm, pointing to The Little Lady, as if to say, "Huh? Huh? Am I right? Isn't she the greatest?"

We Get The Key To The City

Billionairemania has overtaken the city, as the billionaire and I have spread our wealth far and wide. When they see us downtown or at the shopping center, kids are opening the doors for us and getting twenty bucks. Such good kids.

I've never been so popular or conspicuous, in a positive way, in my life. For which, all I can say is, Thank God for money. It's true what they say, the world kneels at the feet of a rich man. There's always someone nearby with his hand out and a look of sincerity, a beautiful thing.

This thing has taken on a life of its own, like a volcano. I imagine volcanoes gather their magma below in pools, and that it becomes super-heated, then somewhat confined, until it has to blow upward. That's what billionairemania's like. A little town with two billionaires in it brings out the fever and fervor, and it's packed tight, until, "Kerblooey!"

It has reached the highest levels, too. The city council a few days ago, in emergency session, came through with a long-rumored resolution that there simply must be a celebration, an event of some sort, to commemorate the billionaire's arrival, and by extension my favorite-sonship in the town. The billionaire's billions are his glory and my billions reflect his glory, being a gift. But some are warmer to me, because they imagine the billionaire eventually leaving but me remaining. And as long as I keep spreading the cash, I'll have a special place in their hearts. What a beautiful feeling.

So the ceremony was at noon today on the courthouse lawn. The townspeople were gathered, the various fathers of the city, and the one councilwoman we have, and the mayor. The mayor gave a few remarks about shared prosperity, then called us forth "as a couple" to receive the golden key to the city.

Each of us made our remarks of thanks. For my part, I noted, "This has been my home all my life. I have never known another home. In my opinion, and I know I'm prejudiced, this has to be the greatest town on earth. Friends, I receive this key in the same wonderful spirit in which it is given. It is the greatest honor I've ever received in my life. And I have a special place to mount it. Presently I have several pictures, wall-hangings, above my couch. But when I get home, those will all come down, and this key will take their place. At the present time, I am a very wealthy man, and it feels special to have this key. Who knows, though? Someday I may be poor, and if that happens I will still see this key as special, and think back to this day and you with fondness. You are my friends and neighbors, my people, and I love you very much."

Remarks like that are the best, completely sincere. Truthfully, I was almost overcome with emotion, by the power and sincerity of my own words. After the ceremony they crushed in on me and the billionaire. As a goodwill gesture, and as another way of giving thanks for the honor, the billionaire and I handed out fifty dollar bills till they ran out, about a half hour later.

Just as a follow-up, if I was uncomfortable with any of it, it was on one small point, the mayor calling the billionaire and me "a couple." I guess we are, but not in that sense. There's other things going on in my spirit, a sense of longing.

OK, enough of that. I have a book sale to go to -- the biggest book sale in the state. It opens tonight!

The Many Awards I've Received

When I started my blog -- Grandma Slump -- a little over five years ago, it was the furthest thing from my mind that I would go on both to present and receive so many awards. But my efforts, if I may be permitted to step out of the bounds of modesty for just a second, turned out to be good. Hence, the commendations.

Of course I'm not sitting or resting on my laurels, as comforting as they are to body and soul, and which would in other circumstances lead to sitting and resting. Because, I don't know ... I guess I'm shooting for more! I guess I'll keep going to the well 'til the well runs dry! I hate to jump ship before I get where I'm going. That wouldn't make any sense.

But for today -- today only -- I thought I'd just take it easy ... lounge here in my trophy room ... and maybe let you take it in, some of the various citations for blogging I've gotten. In presenting myself with these awards over the years,  naturally I've been humbled. But along with humility goes a certain satisfaction, falling just short of hurtful pride, knowing that you all have been touched in some little way.

I have the ribbons you see above, two outright blues for first place in a couple of divisions. I have all the paperwork somewhere, telling which blog posts these ribbons were for. But to go get it is too much work on this restful day. It's sufficient to show that I did get two blue ribbons. Then -- and I don't know what happened, something bad -- I got a red for second and a green for third. I hate second and third. If I had a whole box of second- and third-place ribbons, I'd use them to patch clothes. It's only first that I like. So you can see, I traded in those two ribbons -- losing one ribbon in the process -- and got a third blue.

Quite a number of my posts have been granted the normally-rare designation of "Already Classic." These are given almost instantly, for a particular excellence that doesn't need age to recognize. In fact, it wouldn't make any sense to wait, because then they'd be merely "Classic," whereas "Already Classic" denotes jumping the gun, as it were.

I've been getting these awards steadily over the years. So many, in fact, that I think it might need to be snazzed up a bit, since, while I appreciate the honor, I'm getting a little tired looking at it. Maybe it's something to do with the arrow. It seems to be at distinct variance with the gold seal and lavish red title of the award.

People always say I'm one of the friendliest bloggers they've ever met. I appreciate that so much, although I would question the phrase "one of the." The trophies don't lie. I don't just have one Friendship trophy. I have six. I'm pretty sure that's a record.

I just like winning them, I guess, so I'm as friendly as I can be. Someone praises me, I smile. Someone criticizes me, I keep smiling, even if it's tougher. I just figure, I'm friendly enough to stand there and take it. There's no payoff for erupting, especially if I've already been friendly. That would only take away the investment I'd already made in being friendly. I can always kick a box around the yard when I get home.

You see the face of James Taylor, who sang one of my favorite songs, "You Got a Friend." I tried to play that on guitar a few times. It has some unusual chords, making it tougher to do, but with a little work, it can be done.

The Strongman trophies, I received those for denying myself a few times along the way, doing anything I had to do to get the blog out regularly. Like anyone, I need a certain amount of sleep each day. But I also have a very severe responsibility gene. If something needs to be done, some goal needs to be met, I stay up and stay late to get it done.

There have been times I've even denied myself meals and going out with friends. They've acted like they didn't understand, but at some level I believe they did. After all, their going out was so important to them. And I didn't see them denying themselves that pleasure. The best way to summarize: I've gotten several Strongmans and they haven't.

A Fist Pump certificate is given for any little thing. It accompanies smaller encouragement awards, like a mug with a bag of M & Ms in them, smaller denomination gift cards, and little laminated wallet cards with encouraging sayings. I've got some of them set out here. Five "Attaboy" mugs, with the M & Ms now gone. Three "I Can Do It" certificates. Six "10 shopping spree" gift cards, also now used. And three laminated "You're Super, I Appreciate You More Than Words Can Say" wallet cards.

One other trophy I've been proud of is this fish one. It was 2010, and a combination of factors all came together. It was like catching lightning in a bottle. It was for my series on industrialism -- 200 hard-hitting -- both indicting and commending -- posts on industrialism.

No one else would touch the topic, let alone do with it what I was doing, which was, as I said, 200 consecutive -- not hit and miss, but consecutive -- posts on industrialism.

For that labor, I received the prestigious Gorton Fisherman Award for Writing Excellence for 2010.

Local Man Receives Blogging's Highest Honor

This is a day for pride. I've felt fairly proud of myself all day.

Now that one of my posts -- The Mule Stands Alone -- has received the respected "Already Classic" designation and the right to display the certifying medallion, I feel that I have every reason to be proud.

It hasn't always been this way. I've been around, I've done my work quietly, not expecting a lot of recognition. That's been fine. Just doing a good job to me is reward enough.

But how nice is is to finally be recognized for something and to receive certification of the same. I appreciate it.

Being local -- not international, not an automated aggregator, etc. -- is a rarity these days. But that's the way I've always been. Local, right here on the scene, looking out for the well being of my family and community.

When you apply that to blogging, this is where the local guy can shine. Because we're looking out for things that the international bloggers and the automated aggregators are bound to miss.

How good it is to finally receive some glory, to be able to put that on my list of accomplishments, achievements, and to know that it was well-deserved.

I'm honored, blessed, and humbled.