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Greg's Father's Day Magazine Column- "Dear ABBY" |
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Who doesn’t like to have their name on a trophy?
It’s a nice feeling to have a gaudy reminder that we’re the “Best” or “Most” at something.
My Days of Yute were peppered with pomp and ceremony. At 13, the Chicago Daily American made me “Paperboy of the Year”, which earned me a 3 minute appearance on TV- at a time when being on TV really meant something. That was nice but did little to impress the girls in 8th grade. Guys in garage bands who could play Mony Mony got their attention. When I graduated high school, the won the English Department Award as “Most Promising Student”. That was special because I did not have the highest GPA. The teachers gave it to me because I was applying what I learned to start my career. Like the paperboy award, it did little to impress the girls in my class. They wanted football players, and not guys who could diagram sentences with a flourish. I picked up hardware for athletic accomplishment. When someone asked years ago what one thing I would save if my house was one fire, I mentioned my trophy for Most Home Runs in the prestigious Ashburn Baptist Church softball league- 3. I got them all in one game, too. I hung on to that piece of precious metal until the bat broke off- because the little gold player on the stand- minus the bat- looked like he was trying to break wind and no one wants an award for that. The “House on Fire” status has been conferred on a tiny little gold loving cup that occupies a spot atop my dresser. It says “Father of the Year”, and was given to me on Father’s Day 1994 by my daughter, then 4. If anything happens, I want that buried with me, OK? I would imagine the Trophy Business is booming these days because of our kinder, gentler society. Kids today participate in league sports and everyone gets a trophy for something. Personally, I think this “nobody goes home empty handed” mentality is beyond stupid. For every award I’ve won, I have sat at other banquets and watched others receive their honors, and while envious, I did not go home and cry. Losing is motivating! It made me want to become better, try harder and suck up with the best of them. This nauseating “Nanny” mentality- no one should have their feelings hurt because they didn’t win- is manifesting at the highest levels. Word is that the Pittsburgh Steelers will have to relinquish some of their 7 Super Bowl trophies to “less fortunate” (read ‘incompetent’) teams like the Detroit Lions. After all, they’ve been going home empty handed for 50 years! I’m not ready for any Lifetime Achievement Awards because that means you’re best days are behind you and your grave-hole is open. Winning because you’re getting better with age is nice. That’s the best thing about what I do. Athletes and beauty pageant contestants have a limited window for winning. In 2001, one guy at one radio station, had the guts to give me a chance to restart my radio career in Miami as the morning newsman at LITE FM. 6 months later, I was accepting the Best Newscast award and got to thank that man, Rob Sidney- for his courage- and do it in front of all the other broadcasters who were too caught up in their corporate caution to hire me. That was SWEET! I’d collected a lot of hardware for being a DJ, so winning in a different category was an added bonus. Fast forward to 2009. My station manager approached me a few months back and said he wanted me to submit a tape for the Alabama Broadcasters Association awards committee. “When do you need this?”, I axed. “Tomorrow” he said. I pulled a show and boiled it down to the required 90 seconds, gave it to him and forgot about it. On a recent Saturday night, I was lounging gloriously, half-naked in the debris field of my own bed, happily diddling my lower lip to MAD TV when my cell phone rang. Usually, when my phone rings after 8PM, somebody is dead, but this time, the news was good. “You won!” “I won what?” “The Abby! For best morning show!”. The worst thing about news at that hour is that it’s too late to call anyone who might care- because if you ring them up, they’re going to think someone died, too.
It’s weird to win in abstentia. No thank you speech to make- just me in my underwear with a cell phone photo of the prettiest trophy I’ve ever won. And the most meaningful. I am a 50 something guy in a business largely dominated by whippersnappers half my age. That I was able to reinvent myself and be the best was immensely satisfying. That I won a statewide award in Alabama was the real cherry. It would be like winning a broadcasting award for work on the BBC- then moving to France and winning there. For a city boy, to come to the South- where you really have to earn their hearts, well- I was absolutely giddy for days. I still am. When I came down to spend Easter with my daughter, I brought my Abby with me and celebrated Father’s Day early. I explained to Janelle that were it not for her, these last couple awards would have never happened. Nobody wins anything alone. I am part of a great group of supportive people in my company so it was nice to make them proud. The bigger truth is, had Janelle not been in my life- that no matter how bleak I’d made things for myself- I had to keep pulling myself off the ground and get back in the game. When a man has the blessing of a daughter to love and spoil, there is no quitting. Most of my generation of radio personalities is out of the business or dead. No Janelle, and one or the other would have been my likely fate, too. This is not sappy Father’s Day sentiment, and I am sure there are many Dads of daughters reading this who know what I know and how sweet it is.The Power of Daughter prevails over all demons!
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