Searching for what has slowly slipped from us

Searching for what has slowly slipped from us


Oprah Winfrey makes her way to the stage during the 75th annual Golden Globes Awards, and my first thought is that she looks pretty trim. Certainly not as pencil thin as many of the starlets that adorned the stage before her, but most certainly projecting a more discreet style of dress than most.

More than once I shake my head when it looks as if fabric that should have been on the upper half of a female presenter’s outfit was scrimped on to be used, for what? The lower portion? Probably not considering many have slits to the hip and see-through lace and well, who am I to comment on designer clothes. Yet I’m curious. How is nature’s bounty kept from sliding into the gap left open by the plunging “neckline”?

Oh, silly ole me. This is Hollywood.

And Hollywood is on its feet, applause thundering as Reese Witherspoon presents the Cecil B. DeMille Award, established in 1952 by the Foreign Press Association and named for DeMille, its first recipient, to Oprah Winfrey. The award is given for, “outstanding contributions to the world of entertainment.”

That Oprah has shared the wealth resulting in her rise from poverty, not only in the monetary sense but in her compassion and grace embracing those less fortunate to become an individual so internationally well known that she is known merely by her first name is fitting for much more than merely, “Outstanding contributions to the world of entertainment.” She has been honored significantly world-wide and by a former president and rightly so.

The deafening hoops and hollers are quieted, the standing ovation seated when she raises a her hand and says, as if embarrassed by the adulation, “Okay, okay.” She moves right into what turns out to be nearly a 10 minute — and I hesitate to call it a speech because it feels to me more like a story that begs for more telling.

As a writer, I recognize the importance of a lead and I’m surely not the only one hooked when she brings us back to 1964 and the little girl sitting on a linoleum floor. That she was watching Anne Bancroft present the Academy Award to Sidney Poitier wasn’t so much what stirred my sensibilities as the emotional narrative. Her words set the stage and never faltered. So much so that I found myself thinking, “She oughta run for president.”

And yet, how absurd an idea is that.

Obviously, not so much so as the coming week’s news outlets splashed the words of syndicated columnists, media consultants, editorial cartoonists and the like who make a living commenting on the news of the day and seriously voicing, “Oprah for President?” in a complimentary way.

Well, well, well, perhaps my first thought was not so, “out there” after all.

Oprah’s delivery was profound. My impulse is to click on the Internet, print out her words to study her lines and understand the thrust of it all that would evoke, “Oprah for President.”I know, I know, Oprah for president was my first thought as I listened to her, caught up in the moment as I was and I have no argument with the injustices she pointed out or her views.

My quandary regarding what may become an Oprah for president movement is not with the lady herself. Rather, I believe that as a nation we are searching for what has slowly slipped from us. Historians may chuckle at the notion, yet when we study our past and those individuals who proved qualified to hold the highest office in our country, we may today be reaching for a life line, someone to bring us back to where we began.

As the old country song laments…”Ain’t nothing quite so sad as watching your heroes die. One by one, as they fall, soon there’ll be no heroes at all.”


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