I’ve never been a particularly competitive person—at least that’s the lie I tell myself. The truth is, I care about winning.
In fifth grade I won an essay contest. The topic we all had to write about was “What America Means to Me.” I believe my essay mentioned our forefathers and their fathers (would they be eightfathers?) and a lot of stuff about tradition and equality. Guess what? I knew more about America as a fifth grader than Trump does as our president.
As a junior high student, my friend, K, and I won the three-legged race two years in a row at our school’s annual field day competition. On my own I won the 50 yard dash. If I attempted to run fifty yards now, I’d probably have a heart attack. No one gives a medal for that.
I’ve won spelling bees and trivia contests. I even won a combination spelling/handwriting contest a couple of times. Once I won an essay contest based on a bunch of lies about my participation in band class. I was mortified when the judges returned that essay to my band director. I’m sure he was bewildered. He’s dead now. I hope my essay wasn’t to blame:
I’m nearly 64 now, and I haven’t won anything in ages. I guess once one leaves high school the opportunities are few and far between. But honestly, if I can just make it through 2020 in one piece, I’ll take that as a win.