Please spare me any posthumous awards.

I want pre-humous awards. I don’t give a gold-plated hoot for
belated recognition.

Especially if I’m dead.

If I’m dead, I can’t give an acceptance speech and feign surprise and humility.
I can’t thank:
my parents
my husband and children
Oprah
my aunt Ruth
my fifth-grade teacher, Estelle Purcell
my personal trainer, Ramone

If I’m dead, I can’t plan what to wear to the Awards Dinner
or drink Champagne, or sign autographs, or pose for pictures.

I can’t post the award on Facebook either.

Leave my descendants out of it.

I’m here!—very much alive–and ever so humble.