Tonight was one of bitter defeat for many, and triumphant glory for one. Dreams were made and broken, and victory was spelled u-r-s-p-r-a-c-h-e. I look forward to this evening every year, for the Scripps Howard National Spelling Bee is my favorite competition. I love to watch, awestruck, as prepubescent teens spell words that I have never even fathomed to exist. Now, I am a rather capable speller, but each year, this competition is a humbling experience, as these young spellers make me feel like a blithering idiot. The competition also takes me back to my own childhood. I have very fond memories of my brother and I standing on the hearth of the fireplace while my mother would act as the officiator over our own impromptu spelling bees. I reveled in the satisfaction that came from a correctly spelled word. This makes me sure of two things: one, I have been a dork since birth, and two, the children who are competent enough to make it to the national spelling bee must feel extremely accomplished. So as I pop open a celebratory Red Stripe, the first toast goes to you, Katharine Close, the winner of this evening's competition and a champion of words and will.
Next year, I think I will host a National Spelling Bee Bash, as this event is the Super Bowl of Nerds. Everybody clear your calendars.
Conge: n. a leave-taking or formal bow,
RD
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