The Award that Wasn’t to Be
My family was driving through the night to get to the next field for picking. The night being as dark and black as death, everyone packed in one little car. Papa was taking little peeks at the paper while driving, in a deep slow voice he tells me “TV folks are coming to review us while we work, hijo.” Barely awake I replied back in a quiet voice,
“But why papa, what is so special about picking strawberries?” “For one thing it’s what’s kept this family alive but I don’t know if its television worthy,” he said. “You’d better get some sleep; you’ll need it for tomorrow.”
As soon as he finished his sentence I was fast asleep. I awoke to the sound of the horrible screech of the tires as the car came to a stop; with my ears ringing I looked out the window to see we were at an enormous farm with fields farther than I could see. I turned my head to look out the other window and saw trucks and vans all with huge antennas on top. There were people with cameras everywhere and Papa was talking with what looked a whole crowd of people with microphones and cameras. When Papa left he came up to the side door and when he opened it we could all hear him say in a loud voice “Alright time to pick!”
When we got out to the fields there were what seemed to be millions of people all picking strawberries at the same time “there’s twice as many people as their usually is why is that?” I asked, “I don’t know “hijo” maybe lots of people want to be on television.”
When we started to pick one of the men holding a microphone had been watching us particularly me, I wasn’t sure why but I worked as hard as I could. “Stop”! Yelled the man with the microphone. Everyone had stopped so fast it was as if someone fired a gun in the air. He walked slowly towards my family and me; he looked down upon me and said with a deep southern voice “Son, you’ve got it; you just won an award, pack your things and bring your family we’re going to Hollywood.”
My family was so excited when they heard the news and so was I, I couldn’t believe that I had won an award it was the happiest day in my life. In four hours we were in a studio in Hollywood there were cameras all over the studio, there was a large audience, and lights everywhere I was so excited until I heard what the award was. I heard someone with a camera say “He’s earned the least likely to succeed award.”
I was crushed, the award that I was looking forward to receive was nothing special at all I had felt as though someone had picked me up from the ashes then ripped my heart out like I was nothing. As soon as I heard this I threw myself in my Papa’s arms and cried, “What’s the matter son?” He said, “The awards a fraud Papa It’s the Least likely to Succeed Award.”
My dad paused for a moment then said in response “Son, we can’t choose to be who we are, but know this: who we are is all we are. Now go get that award and take pride in doing so.” When my dad finished I was no longer crying because I knew that I would get on that stage, receive my award and my Papa’s words would inspire me forever.
