Winning the brownie
For Lindsey Reed
When I was a child growing up in Georgetown, Ontario, I loved playing little league baseball. The American side of my family was made up of baseball fanatics, including a second cousin who was a renowned semi-pro.



I was a pudgy wanna-be star.
My goal throughout my six-year little league career was to be named player of the game and be awarded a coupon for a Dairy Queen treat, a feat that I achieved in my last year of little league at 12 years old. I won the sundae!

Looking back, this victory seems almost unbearably small: that I could pour so much longing into a paper coupon and a bowl of melting ice cream, as if sweetness might briefly quiet the anxiety and losses of childhood. The sundae was less a prize than a little anesthetic, a way of believing, for a few spoonfuls, that my sorrows had been acknowledged and palliated.
Fast forward to adulthood and to an iconic movie experience. In the famous dinner party scene from the 1999 film Notting Hill, the characters strive to win a last remaining brownie during a darkly comedic “saddest act” competition involving guests at a birthday dinner. The incident acts as a crucial narrative pivot that grounds the movie, humanizing the celebrated actress Anna Scott, and revealing the emotional isolation behind her celebrity life of constant dieting, abusive relationships, and fear of aging.

In the film, the remaining brownie is finally awarded by consensus to the character Bernie, who “wins” the dessert by telling the saddest story, which involves his cat being run over and him being left entirely alone, this in spite of the harrowing life story that Anna shares.
Each time that I participate in group therapy sessions for people who have lost loved ones to the terrible scourge of glioblastoma, a particularly vicious, aggressive, and unforgiving form of brain cancer, I feel as though all of us are striving, in our own wounded ways, to be awarded the brownie, that small, elusive token of comfort, meaning, or mercy that sorrow makes us long to obtain.
Slay Society Inc. promotes a healthy experience for caregivers and those living with Glioblastoma by providing funding to families, and providing individuals with Glioblastomas, their families, and caregivers with access to related counselling, information, or group support programs. Its vision is to empower patients, their caregivers, and their survivors with adequate support and ample funding to navigate life with Glioblastoma without ever feeling alone.
For more information, please read the post below:
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Your friend,
Robert
https://robertmcbrydeauthor.com/
If you feel like reading more about Anne’s cancer journey, I’ve chronicled it in prose and poetry here:
https://robertmcbrydeauthor.com/news/


