What do you do when your best/worst frenemy wins a major award? Especially one who took a GardenComm Gold Medal out from under you a few years ago in head to head competition for Best Magazine Column. Which, by the way I probably would have forgetten about were it not for this said frenemy wouldn’t always reminding me of it.  

This frenemy, of course, is Marianne Willburn, fellow Ranter and my old Dear Gardener writing partner (my letters were so much funnier! You can see for yourself here.) and the award she won came from the Garden Clubs of America. She received a Zone Commendation for Communicators. She got it yesterday following a talk she gave at a GCOA meeting in Louisville, Kentucky. Fellow Ranter, Allen Bush, introduced her. I was there too because I had been asked to write a letter of recommendation, which I did and only could while seriously impaired by alcohol. I also used this letter as leverage for an invitation. Louisville is only 100 miles away from Cincinnati. Far enough that a frenemy doesn’t expect you to be showing up. Close enough that you can make damned sure that you do. Because you know what they say: Keep your friends close. Keep your enemies closer. So either way, I had to be there.

I went expecting it to be a humbling day because of Marianne’s track record after winning that Gold Medal. And it was, but for reasons I didn’t expect. First and foremost, I was terribly underdressed. Upon arriving at the prestigious and glorious Pendennis Club, I immediately noticed two things. All the other people were women and all of them were wearing dresses more beautiful than the next!  Me? I had dressed up as well as I thought I had to. I was wearing brown jeans, a black button-down shirt, and sneakers. My nice sneakers. But still sneakers. I felt as out of place as I’ve ever felt, and I’ve felt out of place all my life!  

Me, Marianne, and Allen Bush at yesterday’s Garden Clubs of America meeting where Marianne won a major award!

The only thing that could be worse than looking like I did in that place with those people would be showing up late, which I did. Downtown Louisville was a disaster, streets closed off and cars being rerouted. Surely, I thought, because of Marianne’s security detail. So, to get to my seat, which was all the way up at the very front, I had to lumber around a thousand tables, looking like I had hiked in from the wild, while a very sweet, very lovely, and very short woman was trying to emcee the meeting. Of course I tripped once. In front of the projector. My huge stumbling shadow eclipsing an image of a beloved, longtime garden club member who had recently died. Then my chair made a loud sound as I pulled it out from the table and then a louder one as I scooted in.

Once settled, I tried to make my tall and wide ass self as tiny as possible as I loomed there not even four feet from the podium. Glancing at the fancy name cards, I discovered that I was seated between Allen and Marianne, but neither of them were there yet. Oh, of course, I thought, Marianne would only come out just in time for her talk. She’s got to be in some green room eating only selected colors of M&Ms from a Waterford bowl. Before too long, Allen snuck up to the table, more dapper than I would have thought humanly possible.

Eventually the meeting ended and Marianne showed up, looking absolutely impeccible. Perfect. And she was absolutely stunned and probably a little disturbed to see me there. The surprise was pulled off! When she sat down, I looked at her and she looked right at me–eyes locked–for what felt like forever. Eventually, it was me who demurred. I took her expression for, “Don’t mess with me, Beuerlein!” But, in hindsight, I think she was just trying to figure out why I was there. She didn’t know I would be, and she was yet to know she was receiving an award.  

Of course, she flawlessly delivered her talk: Igniting Inspiration, Building Aspiration: Surviving and Thriving with Garden Ambition Disorder. It was very good. Nowhere near as pretentious as the title would have you believe.

Afterwards came the part I dreaded the most: the award ceremony. First, they gave her a bottle of bourbon with a label dedicating it to her. OMG!

Marianne’s personalized bottle of Maker’s Mark.

Then, the president of the association began reading a list of accolades that, I swear, lasted ten minutes. One accomplishment after another. On and on. About halfway through I turned to look at Marianne. She had no idea yet that this award was hers. She didn’t recognize herself as the great person they were describing. But, then, who would? All that certainly didn’t sound like the Marianne I know, either! So, eventually I looked at her and pointed, indicating that they were talking about her, and she was in total shock! I grabbed her laptop from her lap so she could get up, but the carrying on and accolades still had a while to go. It made things kind of awkward and I wished that I had waited.   

The moment.

So they gave her the award and there was great joy. 

Later, after lunch, Marianne, Allen, and I finally got to hang out a bit and it was just wonderful being with them. Despite perhaps a touch of snark that I’ve written here, I drove home thinking about what a great friend Marianne is. And also Allen. And how great it is to have fellow gardeners as friends. And, Marianne truly deserves the award. Probably more deserving than me, for instance. Don’t get me wrong. I’m funnier than her! Much funnier. But I can see where the GCOA’s criteria might aim for something a little more than just that. Things like a communicator’s body of work, the breadth of it, the impact of it, and the research behind it, all of which Marianne’s work has in spades. These things, I have to acknowledge, might–in some people’s opinion–actually rate a little higher than just a bunch of wickedly smart and sometimes mean-spirited jokes. And, of course, Marianne knows how to dress. An image of her would look a lot better in the newsletter than I ever would. And she’s far less likely to embarrass the committee at the award luncheon.

But there is an epilogue to this tale. So, I wrote everything above last night, but this morning I followed up on something that had been nagging me. I vaguely recalled recieving a GCOA award some time ago. This morning, I dug through some old files and discovered that I, along with my boss Steve Foltz, had won a GCOA Zone Award in 2020 for communicating about gardening and educational outreach. It was mostly out of my mind because the plaque is in a place where it’s hard to see. 

My GCOA Commendation. From 2020!

So, in summation, I had a wonderful afternoon with my good friend, Marianne Willburn, who won an award she very much deserves (you all ought to try reading her stuff), but I got there FIRST!!! That’s really the important thing, and so I win!

Now, if we can just get her to start Dear Gardener back up with me, that would be a real win-win.

The day Marianne and I met at a speaking gig in Youngstown, Ohio. I surprised her by including some needling about her in my talk. She didn’t know me. I didn’t know her nor how she would react, but she immediately zung me back and so began a great friendship.

Working together on a Dear Gardener talk we gave in Louisiana.

On a plane to Louisiana.

Bus buddies at a Perennial Plant Association tour. (Although there was some imbibing going on, this photo was mostly staged). 

With fellow Ranter, Susan Harris, at the Scott Arboretum.

Literally the only photo of us I could find where we aren’t laughing. We were probably discussing how much our sides were hurting from all the mirth.