Subject: ROBERTS' RULES: Honor
From: "Shelly Roberts" <[email-masked]>
Date: Wed, 3 Dec 1997 15:23:12 +0000

ROBERTS' RULES 

by Shelly Roberts

IN PRAISE OF MICKEY ROONEY AND NAPOLEON

I was fortunate enough, last month, to be asked to MC an awards dinner
for the Broward County, Florida community.  That's where Ft.
Lauderdale lives.  And, recently having emigrated to Atlanta, in the
State of OmigodI'veMovedToGEORGIA, it was nice to discover that you
can go home again.

I say fortunate, because this awards dinner was different from many of
the others I've presided over or participated in. This was a precedent
breaker. One that I hope becomes a model for what communities can
foster in the future.

No bar was honored.  No Miss Anything was given to anyone in a dress
and a mustache. No Ms. Tofu of the Year. No lip synching pretenders in
Nancy Sinatra go-go boots.  Not that there's anything wrong with any
of those.  It's just that this awards ceremony, "Stars of the Rainbow"
marked a turning point in the focus of this community, and, I think,
on a larger scale, most of our  communities.

It honored, as you would expect, their "Shining Stars."  The people
who already have a plaque collection, and enough certificates to
wallpaper the guest bathroom.  They are wonderful leaders, deserving
of  being singled out.  They gladly give time and money and hope and
inspiration.  

But what was so refreshing about this event was that it also
recognized their "Hidden Stars."

Certificates were presented (in groups or we'd all still be there
making the waiters wish for a dinner of pantomimists) to honor people
who never sit at the head table.  The worker bees who make it possible
for the plastic memento presentations to the shining.  Stars of the
Rainbow honored  people who "staffed the switchboard,"  who "weren't
afraid to make the telephone calls," who, without the necessity of a
hard-and-fast definition "made a difference."

There were certificates for community doers who were "always there
when needed," and for "driving people home."  Community members who
"stuck it out" got a moment of applause, without having to explain to
anyone, as though we didn't already know what it meant.  People who
"kept us laughing instead of crying" got a chance to stand up and be
recognized, as did those who "speak up with unpopular viewpoints just
because they needed to be voiced."   Folks who "folded the chairs,
swept up, made sure the doors were locked" got recognized.  So did the
people who "always donate something," "always had another idea to
offer," and "always show up at the meeting."

This awards dinner presented awards to the Treasurers.  And whoever
"takes the minutes," or "got the newsletter out." "The most effective
event planner" got something to take home and show the folks.  As did
the switchboard staffers and the family members with nice, big houses,
who opened their doors to house a party or an important visitor. Among
the honored were the clan who "decorated the hall" or "made the
committee more effective"  And my favorite, an award certificate went
to those who "kept a cool head when things fell apart."

What a refreshing recognition to the people who work so hard without
ever expecting any credit. The Greater Fort Lauderdale Gay and Lesbian
Community Center, or GFLGLCC, is to be praised and lauded for this
effort.  

How did they know who to award?  They asked.  They sent out nomination
forms to every place within their boundaries where we might be
gathering.  Then they gave everyone nominated a framable certificate,
because they understood that "thank you" is not a contest.

It was an event I was proud to be a part of.  Everyone looked elegant.
 And nicely cleaned up.  There was an aura of being among the best and
the brightest.  And that night a community came together to ratify the
contributions below the top 5% of usuals.  It gave solemn promise to
the validity of all the work that is being done in our names by people
who choose to contribute in ways that some might call lesser.  But
that night there weren't any lesser stars in the room.  Everyone who
came together to say "thank you" and honor and be honored shown with
the splendor that  makes people give up their own time and money and
effort to add to the greater good.

Maybe, as a result of this event, some of those on the ragged edge of
burnout will stick around longer, or be back quicker.

If you were in Fort Lauderdale at the Airport Hilton that night, you
know, in spite of the lengthy process, how good it felt to recognize
our whole community, and help keep it whole.  If you were in Fort
Lauderdale that night, and missed the dinner, you really missed
something special. If you live someplace else, I hope you will take
what this generous group did with its own as a wonderful example of
how to make certain that all the valuable community contributions are
honored. 

Let's start a trend and a whole new tradition. If you'd like me to
come and MC, just give me a holler.  Time permitting and the creek
don't rise, I'll be there.  

In fact, I'd be honored.

________________________
(C) 1997. Shelly Roberts. All rights reserved. A one-time simultaneous
print right is hereby granted to subscribing newspapers; all other
rights, including electronic or digital reproduction are reserved.
Must be reprinted only in its entirety.

Shelly Roberts is an internationally syndicated columnist, and the
author of the newest best-selling Roberts' Rules of Lesbian Break Ups.
(Spinsters Ink.)