It was a bad week for two famous Armstrongs.
First, seven-time Tour de France victor Lance Armstrong abandoned his quest to clear his name of drug doping charges. For many, this signaled a guilty plea as the capstone to his multi-year efforts to redeem himself in the bicycle sports arena.
A few days later, Neil Armstrong, the first man to walk on the moon, died following heart surgery. Each time we view that 1969 grainy black and white video clip of his first step on the moon, we pause to consider his courage. And, for many, this humble astronaut’s passing seals his noble legacy.
Two stories of life’s fame and fortune, walked out in very different ways.
At the One Stop Shop for Fame and Fortune, a waiting line encircles the block. Fame and fortune is what we think we want. Come and get it!
Aisle One is the widest and most traveled, where laurels are reserved for sports achievements, a dizzying aisle plumped with the most popular—and obscure—awards available to claim. Of course, there are home run records, and most soccer goals scored. Looking for more exotic fame? Help yourself to an ice bowling (yes, there really is such a thing) or Frisbee golf championship or two. On the cycling shelf, I notice a freshly stocked area listing available records under Tour de France, apparently recently vacated of Lance Armstrong archives.
Successive aisles proffer fame and fortune in order of diminishing popularity…famous clothing designers, lawyers who have made fortunes, bank robbers who have stolen fortunes, fertilization-specializing veterinarians….
Let’s see…how do I want to gain my own personalized fame and fortune? What should I pick?
My curiosity drives me to explore the last aisle in the store. Down the damp and darkening shelves, I pass into the bowels of the most unpopular fame and fortune categories: plumbing, bomb shelter design, trash and refuse collection, whoopee cushion manufacturing. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Not for me, thanks!
Ah, finally! Here it is—the very least popular way to gain fame and fortune. I’m at the very end of the very last aisle. Not much traffic down here. The lonely previous visitor here was probably disoriented, looking for the restroom.
I find the final forlorn shelf—and it’s empty. Above it is a tattered, fading label, which, under the gathering dust reads: “Good Neighbor.” The space is reserved but unstocked. There are apparently no takers—it’s tough to gain fame and fortune at the gig of good-neighborliness. It’s just a shelf, an empty shelf with a note scrawled in fading red ink: “Tried that. Didn’t work out.”
Armstrong want-to-be’s, step right up. Come on in from the cold and take your pick. Come on in to the One Stop Shop for Fame and Fortune.
Remember, there are plenty of choices available on Aisle One, on the shelf marked Cycling: Tour de France.
Fame and fortune are awaiting.
But take care in making your choice.