Thrift-Store Trophy Case

They sat on a shelf in the corner of the Disabled Veterans Thrift Store. There were at least 20 of them, unmoved for years, as evidenced by the thick layer of dust that encased the polished bronze plastic.

A bowler in perfect handshake follow through stood on top of one of them; A golfer driving a ball, looking into the distance posed on another; A cup with two handles given for the best 4-H goat in the teen class for 1984; Student of the month; An Award of Excellence; and a Most Improved award were all part of the collection.

Trophies. At some point, each of these meant something. The recipient stood beaming and the small gathering clapped while offered a hearty handshake and a smile. They were the apex of achievement. But here they were, disposed and forgotten. The thrill was gone.

We all like to win. Who doesn’t? But the thrill of victory dissipates. For some, it’s sooner than others.

I’ve had a few trophies over the year – A Pinewood derby Cub Scout champion, Speech and debate state award, and a most improved bowler. Where did they go? Where did they disappear? Did I throw them away? Did I given them away, like these thrift store trophies? I looked at them, pitiful, abandoned like forgotten puppies, eyeing each shopper, hoping they could relive their glory.

What happened to the prestige, the glitter, the glamour, the glory?

If I’ve forgotten about yesterday’s trophies, what about today’s? My promotion that I think I deserve, how long will that last? The car I drive will eventually wear out. My 401K will get rocked in the market and eventually not be the same.

The things I hold up as trophies, the things over my head, are really short-lived, vain and meaningless in the end. My house. My good name. My skills and abilities. My good name. All of these are like chasing after the wind.

Over these last few years, I’ve lost a lot of things I thought were important. And through the loss, I’ve learned about trophies, about importance, and about things that last.

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