| Commentary and Philosophy Fiction posted June 4, 2023 |
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A story about pride
What Makes Me Proud
by Jim Wile
“And the winner of the final and most important award this evening—the most cub scout arrows earned award—goes to: Evan Cooper!”
To the applause of the crowd, I walked up to the rostrum, where the scoutmaster handed me the engraved plaque. I shook his hand, mumbled a perfunctory thank you, and returned to my seat to more applause from the crowd of proud parents and grandparents in attendance that night.
Momma G put her arm around me and whispered, “I’m so proud of you!”
I didn’t say anything as we filed out. Outside, I went quickly over to talk to Billy Phelan, who was leaving with his parents. “Hey, Billy. I just wanted to congratulate you on your first-place trophy for the 440 this year. I know you practiced hard, and that was a really great run!”
“Thanks, Evan, but I feel like you were just letting me win it. I know you’re faster than you ran in that race.”
“Well, you’re probably right, Billy, but I really shouldn’t have even been in that race. I didn’t sign up for it. The only reason I ran in it was that the scoutmaster pretty much told me to enter because not enough kids had signed up for it, and he wanted more participants. Look, you’re 7, right?” He nodded at that. “And I’m 10. I probably weigh 30 pounds more than you. I’ve even started growing pubic hair!”
Billy laughed at that.
“So, you see, it really wouldn’t have been fair for me to win that race. Plus, I never practiced running or anything, but I’ve seen you running laps every day after school. I know you’ve been practicing hard for that race, and you were way faster than any of the other kids. How could I have felt proud if I’d won, knowing that it would only have been because I’m older and bigger with a lot longer legs?”
“Yeah, but you could have won a trophy. Don’t you like to get trophies?”
“Not by winning a race I shouldn’t have been in in the first place.”
“But you’re a cub scout, aren’t you? You could be in that race.”
“Technically, you’re right. But the race really should have been flighted.” Billy looked puzzled by this. “What I mean is that they should have broken the race up into one for 5-7-year-olds and one for 8-9-year-olds. I just turned 10 and will join the Boy Scouts in the fall. It just didn’t feel right even being in that race, but they didn’t have enough runners for even one flight, let alone two. Running doesn’t seem to be too popular with most kids. I think they’d rather stay inside and play video games.”
“Well, I like to run.”
“That’s right, and you practice at it. So be proud of your win, because you earned it.”
“Now that you put it like that… okay. Thanks Evan. And congratulations on your win tonight.”
“Thanks, Billy. See ya.”
I headed toward my car with my plaque under my arm. My win. Yeah, right. I was real proud of that.
When I got there, Momma G. was standing near the car talking to some friends. When they saw me come up, they all said, “Congratulations, Evan!” Then they said stuff like, “You must be so proud for winning all those arrows,” and “You must have worked really hard at it.”
I just told them, “Thanks,” and said to Momma G, “Can we go now? I’ve got a math test tomorrow I want to study for, and I’ve got an essay to write too.” The essay wasn’t due for another four days, but I just wanted to get out of there.
“Sure, honey.”
It was about a twenty-minute drive to our house, where I lived with Momma G and Momma A, my other mother. I was adopted by them when I was a little baby, and they raised me as their own. I loved them both, but I didn’t always understand everything they said. Like right now when Momma G said to me, “I’m just so proud you won that plaque tonight, honey, for all those arrowheads.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Evan, aren’t you proud of yourself? That’s quite an achievement.”
“Well, I would be proud if I’d actually earned them, but you and Momma A. kept making me check all those boxes for things I hadn’t done.”
“Oh, Evan. Not this argument again! You did do those activities. It doesn’t really matter when you did them—just the fact that you did them. Don’t you think the other kids filled their cub scout manuals in the same way?”
“I don’t know, Mom, but that’s not the way I wanted to do it. When the book said to make a campfire to check off that activity, I took it to mean make one now with the instructions the book talked about. I didn’t think it meant you should get credit if you ever in your life made a campfire like the one five years ago when I was five. We went on that camping trip and we didn’t know what we were doing and never could get the whole thing going, just the couple of sticks we sprayed the lighter fluid on.
“And Momma A. made me check the box for grooming a horse. There were two whole pages in the manual about how to properly groom a horse, but because once last year I got to brush a horse at the stables for a whole minute before they asked me to give the brush to another kid so she could get a chance, I don’t think that’s really enough to mean I should check the box.”
“That’s the way the world works, Evan. You’ve got to build yourself up. Wait until you have to write a resume when you’re looking for a job. Then you’ll understand.”
“Could we just not talk about it anymore, Mom?” We rode the rest of the way home without talking to each other, although she did call Momma A. to tell her about it.
When we got home, Momma A. called out from the living room to come see her. “Hi, sweetie. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there tonight, but I’m so proud of you for winning your award!”
I looked at her but didn’t respond.
She pulled me into her arms for a hug and said, “Gwen told me how you felt about it, and I kind of understand, but you’ve got to have some pride in yourself. Goodness, most people don’t give a crap about you, so you’ve got to take some pride in yourself. Gwen and I organized the Gay Pride parade tomorrow because we’re proud of being gay. But most people either don’t care or are actually hostile about that. So, if you don’t have pride in yourself, who’s going to ever be proud of you—except maybe your two moms?”
“Well, that’s just it. I guess I don’t really understand what pride is all about. Like, why are you proud of being gay? You didn’t do anything to earn it; you were born that way.”
“Oh, so you’re ashamed of your moms, huh? Embarrassed by our being gay?”
“I’m not ashamed, Mom, but I’m not proud either. The opposite of proud doesn’t have to be ashamed. I just feel neutral about it. It just seems to me like you should have to do something good to be proud of yourself.”
“Look, Evan. It’s not just about being gay that we’re proud. It’s the fact that we have stood up to people because of the strength of our convictions. Do you know what that means?”
“Yes, but I don’t know if I buy that. If that’s what you’re honoring, why don’t you call it “Strength of convictions pride instead of Gay Pride? Lots of different people have the strength of their convictions. Maybe there should be a “Strength of Convictions Month” instead.
“I don’t know, Evan. Are you proud of anything?”
“Yeah, I’m proud of coming in fifth in the archery contest in cub scouts.”
“Evan! There were only seven kids who entered, and you’re proud of fifth place? That’s not much of an achievement.”
“Well, it was for me. Last year when I entered, I came in last. I only hit the target one time, and that was in the last ring. So, I practiced a lot, and this year I hit the target with all ten arrows. They weren’t all that close to the center, but one was a bullseye. That was a whole lot better than last year.”
“But you didn’t even come close to winning. Do you think you deserve a trophy for fifth place?”
“No! But it wasn’t about earning a trophy. I’m proud that I improved so much because I worked hard at it. If I’d gotten a trophy, it wouldn’t have meant anything unless it was for most improved. But maybe next year I’ll earn a trophy if I keep improving. I gotta go up and study now, Mom. I’ll see you later.”
Later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, I snuck downstairs and out to the garage, where I placed the cub scout plaque in the garbage can underneath a bunch of other stuff.
“And the winner of the final and most important award this evening—the most cub scout arrows earned award—goes to: Evan Cooper!”
To the applause of the crowd, I walked up to the rostrum, where the scoutmaster handed me the engraved plaque. I shook his hand, mumbled a perfunctory thank you, and returned to my seat to more applause from the crowd of proud parents and grandparents in attendance that night.
Momma G put her arm around me and whispered, “I’m so proud of you!”
I didn’t say anything as we filed out. Outside, I went quickly over to talk to Billy Phelan, who was leaving with his parents. “Hey, Billy. I just wanted to congratulate you on your first-place trophy for the 440 this year. I know you practiced hard, and that was a really great run!”
“Thanks, Evan, but I feel like you were just letting me win it. I know you’re faster than you ran in that race.”
“Well, you’re probably right, Billy, but I really shouldn’t have even been in that race. I didn’t sign up for it. The only reason I ran in it was that the scoutmaster pretty much told me to enter because not enough kids had signed up for it, and he wanted more participants. Look, you’re 7, right?” He nodded at that. “And I’m 10. I probably weigh 30 pounds more than you. I’ve even started growing pubic hair!”
Billy laughed at that.
“So, you see, it really wouldn’t have been fair for me to win that race. Plus, I never practiced running or anything, but I’ve seen you running laps every day after school. I know you’ve been practicing hard for that race, and you were way faster than any of the other kids. How could I have felt proud if I’d won, knowing that it would only have been because I’m older and bigger with a lot longer legs?”
“Yeah, but you could have won a trophy. Don’t you like to get trophies?”
“Not by winning a race I shouldn’t have been in in the first place.”
“But you’re a cub scout, aren’t you? You could be in that race.”
“Technically, you’re right. But the race really should have been flighted.” Billy looked puzzled by this. “What I mean is that they should have broken the race up into one for 5-7-year-olds and one for 8-9-year-olds. I just turned 10 and will join the Boy Scouts in the fall. It just didn’t feel right even being in that race, but they didn’t have enough runners for even one flight, let alone two. Running doesn’t seem to be too popular with most kids. I think they’d rather stay inside and play video games.”
“Well, I like to run.”
“That’s right, and you practice at it. So be proud of your win, because you earned it.”
“Now that you put it like that… okay. Thanks Evan. And congratulations on your win tonight.”
“Thanks, Billy. See ya.”
I headed toward my car with my plaque under my arm. My win. Yeah, right. I was real proud of that.
When I got there, Momma G. was standing near the car talking to some friends. When they saw me come up, they all said, “Congratulations, Evan!” Then they said stuff like, “You must be so proud for winning all those arrows,” and “You must have worked really hard at it.”
I just told them, “Thanks,” and said to Momma G, “Can we go now? I’ve got a math test tomorrow I want to study for, and I’ve got an essay to write too.” The essay wasn’t due for another four days, but I just wanted to get out of there.
“Sure, honey.”
It was about a twenty-minute drive to our house, where I lived with Momma G and Momma A, my other mother. I was adopted by them when I was a little baby, and they raised me as their own. I loved them both, but I didn’t always understand everything they said. Like right now when Momma G said to me, “I’m just so proud you won that plaque tonight, honey, for all those arrowheads.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Evan, aren’t you proud of yourself? That’s quite an achievement.”
“Well, I would be proud if I’d actually earned them, but you and Momma A. kept making me check all those boxes for things I hadn’t done.”
“Oh, Evan. Not this argument again! You did do those activities. It doesn’t really matter when you did them—just the fact that you did them. Don’t you think the other kids filled their cub scout manuals in the same way?”
“I don’t know, Mom, but that’s not the way I wanted to do it. When the book said to make a campfire to check off that activity, I took it to mean make one now with the instructions the book talked about. I didn’t think it meant you should get credit if you ever in your life made a campfire like the one five years ago when I was five. We went on that camping trip and we didn’t know what we were doing and never could get the whole thing going, just the couple of sticks we sprayed the lighter fluid on.
“And Momma A. made me check the box for grooming a horse. There were two whole pages in the manual about how to properly groom a horse, but because once last year I got to brush a horse at the stables for a whole minute before they asked me to give the brush to another kid so she could get a chance, I don’t think that’s really enough to mean I should check the box.”
“That’s the way the world works, Evan. You’ve got to build yourself up. Wait until you have to write a resume when you’re looking for a job. Then you’ll understand.”
“Could we just not talk about it anymore, Mom?” We rode the rest of the way home without talking to each other, although she did call Momma A. to tell her about it.
When we got home, Momma A. called out from the living room to come see her. “Hi, sweetie. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there tonight, but I’m so proud of you for winning your award!”
I looked at her but didn’t respond.
She pulled me into her arms for a hug and said, “Gwen told me how you felt about it, and I kind of understand, but you’ve got to have some pride in yourself. Goodness, most people don’t give a crap about you, so you’ve got to take some pride in yourself. Gwen and I organized the Gay Pride parade tomorrow because we’re proud of being gay. But most people either don’t care or are actually hostile about that. So, if you don’t have pride in yourself, who’s going to ever be proud of you—except maybe your two moms?”
“Well, that’s just it. I guess I don’t really understand what pride is all about. Like, why are you proud of being gay? You didn’t do anything to earn it; you were born that way.”
“Oh, so you’re ashamed of your moms, huh? Embarrassed by our being gay?”
“I’m not ashamed, Mom, but I’m not proud either. The opposite of proud doesn’t have to be ashamed. I just feel neutral about it. It just seems to me like you should have to do something good to be proud of yourself.”
“Look, Evan. It’s not just about being gay that we’re proud. It’s the fact that we have stood up to people because of the strength of our convictions. Do you know what that means?”
“Yes, but I don’t know if I buy that. If that’s what you’re honoring, why don’t you call it “Strength of convictions pride instead of Gay Pride? Lots of different people have the strength of their convictions. Maybe there should be a “Strength of Convictions Month” instead.
“I don’t know, Evan. Are you proud of anything?”
“Yeah, I’m proud of coming in fifth in the archery contest in cub scouts.”
“Evan! There were only seven kids who entered, and you’re proud of fifth place? That’s not much of an achievement.”
“Well, it was for me. Last year when I entered, I came in last. I only hit the target one time, and that was in the last ring. So, I practiced a lot, and this year I hit the target with all ten arrows. They weren’t all that close to the center, but one was a bullseye. That was a whole lot better than last year.”
“But you didn’t even come close to winning. Do you think you deserve a trophy for fifth place?”
“No! But it wasn’t about earning a trophy. I’m proud that I improved so much because I worked hard at it. If I’d gotten a trophy, it wouldn’t have meant anything unless it was for most improved. But maybe next year I’ll earn a trophy if I keep improving. I gotta go up and study now, Mom. I’ll see you later.”
Later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, I snuck downstairs and out to the garage, where I placed the cub scout plaque in the garbage can underneath a bunch of other stuff.
 Recognized |
Most of this story is fiction with the exception that part of it was loosely based on my own experience with "earning" cub scout arrowheads, to be sewn on my uniform, by checking off the required boxes in the cub scout manual for activities performed in fulfillment of the requirements.
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