Second Place?
A friend recently commented that in a certain instance I am second place. Now that in itself gives one pause to think upon not only the quality of the friendship but also the essence of what it means exactly to BE second place.
My friendship being measured, judged, and found less valued than some other, my prime recollection of being in second place consequently came rushing into my mind's eye. This recollection is based upon the continual and unrelenting experience with country school track meets of my far distant youth in terms of real time, but which can be readily accessed through painful and emotionally damaged reveries.
There was this 'other person' involved that made being second become embedded into my forever psyche as much as paint has been embedded in the fiberglass of my husband's helmet as a consequence of a motorcycle accident.
I am referring to the only track event that I could possibly ever have come first in, the only event that took little or no actual practice, the only event that came naturally to myself as a farm girl used to lifting bales of hay, pitch forking out the barn, and shoveling out the last bit of spoiled barley from a partially semi empty mouse laden grain bin.
I am thinking of the fine sport of Shot Putt throwing. My forte. My expertise extraordinaire. My place to shine. Mon raison d'etre part of the Track and Field Team.
But, unfortunately for me but fortunately for HER, there was another prairie girl, another farmer's daughter, another like no other who could out throw, out toss and out perform even moi in the area of this Olympic sanctified event. She was at EVERY field meet and track and field event that I ever attended at the country school, high school, and even district level...and she won the coveted RED First Place ribbon every every time, while I, consequently , took the pale coloured white unnoticeable, ignored, unappreciated and often lost before it even got home ribbon signifying the dubious and unappreciated status of being better than most but not better than best.
Name me one person who has framed their white second place ribbons. Show me one picture in a high school year book that features a collection of white second place ribbons fanned out in the hands of the dubious winner. Indeed, show me any surviving white ribbon of that long ago era where competition was accepted and sportsmanship expected.
Yep, my friend said I was in second place. Thanks friend. In the realm of feel good messages that ranks less than the best..far far down the list and way past second place.
BUT then again second place might not be so bad after all. It might be good to be in second place if you are in a line up to go 'over the hill' during a combat situation, or if you are standing at a buffet and the guy in front of you drops from food poisoning, or even if you are the second place guy crossing an intersection where someone has gone through a red light. A white ribbon in those instances would be a welcome gift, a sign of being chosen, a place of gratitude and contentment.
I think I will choose to attribute the intention of my friend's labeling of 'second' place as a place not at the top but a long way from the bottom. Isn't that and should that not be good enough for anyone?...
...unless of course there are only three in the race which was the case in the 1972 Saskatchewan Summer Games in which I was a participant in Women's Canoeing. We came in third in three races and second in one.
A friend recently commented that in a certain instance I am second place. Now that in itself gives one pause to think upon not only the quality of the friendship but also the essence of what it means exactly to BE second place.
My friendship being measured, judged, and found less valued than some other, my prime recollection of being in second place consequently came rushing into my mind's eye. This recollection is based upon the continual and unrelenting experience with country school track meets of my far distant youth in terms of real time, but which can be readily accessed through painful and emotionally damaged reveries.
There was this 'other person' involved that made being second become embedded into my forever psyche as much as paint has been embedded in the fiberglass of my husband's helmet as a consequence of a motorcycle accident.
I am referring to the only track event that I could possibly ever have come first in, the only event that took little or no actual practice, the only event that came naturally to myself as a farm girl used to lifting bales of hay, pitch forking out the barn, and shoveling out the last bit of spoiled barley from a partially semi empty mouse laden grain bin.
I am thinking of the fine sport of Shot Putt throwing. My forte. My expertise extraordinaire. My place to shine. Mon raison d'etre part of the Track and Field Team.
But, unfortunately for me but fortunately for HER, there was another prairie girl, another farmer's daughter, another like no other who could out throw, out toss and out perform even moi in the area of this Olympic sanctified event. She was at EVERY field meet and track and field event that I ever attended at the country school, high school, and even district level...and she won the coveted RED First Place ribbon every every time, while I, consequently , took the pale coloured white unnoticeable, ignored, unappreciated and often lost before it even got home ribbon signifying the dubious and unappreciated status of being better than most but not better than best.
Name me one person who has framed their white second place ribbons. Show me one picture in a high school year book that features a collection of white second place ribbons fanned out in the hands of the dubious winner. Indeed, show me any surviving white ribbon of that long ago era where competition was accepted and sportsmanship expected.
Yep, my friend said I was in second place. Thanks friend. In the realm of feel good messages that ranks less than the best..far far down the list and way past second place.
BUT then again second place might not be so bad after all. It might be good to be in second place if you are in a line up to go 'over the hill' during a combat situation, or if you are standing at a buffet and the guy in front of you drops from food poisoning, or even if you are the second place guy crossing an intersection where someone has gone through a red light. A white ribbon in those instances would be a welcome gift, a sign of being chosen, a place of gratitude and contentment.
I think I will choose to attribute the intention of my friend's labeling of 'second' place as a place not at the top but a long way from the bottom. Isn't that and should that not be good enough for anyone?...
...unless of course there are only three in the race which was the case in the 1972 Saskatchewan Summer Games in which I was a participant in Women's Canoeing. We came in third in three races and second in one.
I still have the medals and the memories.
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