Old Trophies

What is it about trophies? Well, they have more expansive dimensions and weight than a paper certificate. We can gently cradle them in our hands as we accept them, basking in that proud and ephemeral moment where our accomplishment is both recognized and celebrated. We can regard them with pride as we thank the presenter and beam at whatever audience is present. Our time to shine. Yes, trophies are such a tangible measure of achievement that we always love them.

Back in the 60s, shiny golden statues on solid mahogany bases or plaques were more common than not, and many of us collected more than a few. At first, they found their new homes on our bookshelves, fireplace mantels, window sills, and desks. They may have stood proud for many years. Until many were later relegated to the darkness of cardboard boxes and stored in closets or basements, long forgotten as our lives moved inexorably forward. Forgotten that is, until an upcoming home move surprised us with their presence.

In the end, it was their physical bulk that did them in. When your spouse asks why you were still holding on to decades-old trophies, and you have no good answer, you know it is time to pare down and let them go. Perhaps not all, but certainly the less revered of the batch. After all, you still have ample smaller and less conspicuous memorabilia of achievement, prize certificates and ribbons, small medals, badges and patches, group photos, racing numbers from 10Ks, and that wonderful green Seattle Marathon t-shirt, now long gone since it was worn until threadbare.

If asked, I would struggle to remember the trophies that I eventually discarded. But the one I kept, I still treasure, even more than my science fair awards. In 1962, I won a significant trophy, the award for best constructed racer in the Washington, D.C. Soap Box Derby. That I never expected to win over the 250 other entrants made it even more special. But even that trophy may now leave me, as I have recently offered it to the President.

You see, there has been complete chaos in Minneapolis since dark masses of the 2,000-strong ICE goons stormed into the blue city to harass and injure civilians, and in the process killing an innocent woman, a mother, with several pistol shots to her chest, arm, and head. And then, seeking to further terrorize the populace, Trump quickly escalated the ICE presence with an infusion of 1,000 more troops to wreak more destructive violence. As with so many others. I have found it very worrisome as the pointless oppression has weighed on me. Even though I am not present, I still feel the psychic violence that this maniac has imposed on us all.

Then, other news revealed that yesterday, January 15, 2026, Maria Machado, the leader of the Venezuelan opposition party and winner of the 2025 Nobel Peace Prize, visited the White House and offered her framed Nobel medal to Donald Trump in a nakedly opportunistic attempt to curry favor and gain Trump’s support to place her in presidential power in post-Maduro Venezuela. The entire event was exceedingly shameful for both parties and has thus inspired both ridicule and cringeworthy satire.

Wait a minute. If I put on my clinical psychologist hat, I wonder if Donny ever won any trophies as a child. I certainly doubt it. And if so, perhaps such a void could have created the black hole of desire and entitlement that we witness today? 

I recall passages from ‘Too Much and Never Enough: How My Family Created the World's Most Dangerous Man’ by Mary Trump, where she tells of Donald’s time at New York Military Academy, a ‘reform school’ where he was sent for his rebellious and bullying behavior. During his five years at the school, he remained a bully, was an indifferent student, and an average sportsman. Nevertheless, he loved the dress uniforms. As a senior, he led a special drill team for the Columbus Day Parade in New York, supposedly chosen for that honor by his fellow cadets. He appears in his graduation photo, in his military cadet uniform, adorned with several medals borrowed from a friend. Always a hero in his own deluded mind. And here we are in 2026 with Donny happily accepting someone else’s Nobel Peace Prize medal. Who could have possibly conceived such a cruelly comic event?

Of course, Jimmy Kimmel wasted no time in seizing the opportunity to mock Donny by offering Trump his Daytime Emmy, the one he won for Best Game Show Host in 1999, and if that was not enough, a choice of a few others, including his 2015 Soul Train Award for White Person of the Year, if Trump would just get his ICE thugs out of Minnesota and back on the border. I liked that a lot. Inspired by Jimmy, I found my old Soap Box Derby trophy, in a cardboard box, in a closet, took it out, shot a photo, and posted it to Facebook with my offer to Trump.

“Hey Donald, since you recently accepted the Nobel Peace Prize medal from Maria Machado, I know you like awards. So, check out my 1962 Soap Box Derby ‘Best Constructed Racer' award. It is a big and heavy, solid mahogany wood plaque with a shiny golden statue. Nice eh! Would you like it? You would? Well, get your ICE troops out of Minneapolis, ASAP, and we’ll talk. Have your people call my people. PS: I also have science fair awards, but they're not nearly as cool as this.”

Will it work? Who knows? But I hope that my Facebook post inspires others to do the same with their bright, shiny trophies. Offer them up to the narcissistic black hole and see what happens. Donnie is such a transactional beast that he might be tempted by some. Maybe even my small offer. Wait a minute, what if ‘the Donald’ actually calls? Would I really part with my trophy? No. Not on his word alone. Trust Trump? I don’t think so. Oh, hell no! Not happening. He would have to perform first, and even then, I have significant doubts that he would not reverse himself in a blink and have his 'ICE pack' back on the Minnesota streets as soon as my old trophy was securely hung on a White House wall.

However, since I doubt that ‘the Donald’ will take me up on my offer, I have returned my rare treasure to its dark home in a closet full of cardboard boxes with other memorabilia that I have not yet been persuaded to discard. I mean, really? They help me date and recall a few of my proudest moments. It is really about the memories, and while most recent accomplishments, special occasions, and milestones are usually well documented with photos, those much older ones survive in the form of paper certificates, ribbons, medals, patches, and even the occasional trophy, a physical symbol of a singular accomplishment.

Perhaps our trophies are all-important because they help us remember who we once were and, more importantly, who we are now. And, it goes without saying that they must have been earned through both effort and excellence. And, these days, that is worth a lot.