>Denzel Washington - For your performance in the film Glory. I can't begin to identify with any of the constituent attitudes relevant to racism. Mostly because it’s a stupid idea, anyway. Still, as an American white, it would be unreasonable of me to ignore the treatment of African and other slaves by many of those who founded and promoted this country. The glossed-over treatment this chapter was given me in “history” class was, in retrospect, a laughable farce, offered only as fodder to take tests with. Not until I saw Glory, (and after a lot of subsequent reading about the real history of American slavery), did I get a glimpse of the "everyday" atmosphere of our country at that time, and how slaves were actually treated. Until then, only the TV series Roots exposed me similarly to that part of our history. The scene in which your character stoicly takes his punishment for going to the barn dance was some of the best acting I have yet seen in any film, and I've not since seen such an authentic portrayal of his heroic military unit.
>Tori Amos - For your song Silent All These Years. My early- and mid-twenties were full of the personal revelations typical of that stage in life. I'd seen loss, abuse, poverty, want and despair in my youth, just as many of my generational contemporaries had. Faith offered me a place to put the deepest damage, but many of the other residual feelings had little voice. I think some of the best words ever penned are the opening line to your song: "Excuse me, but can I be you for a while?" I can hardly hear them without going right back to those heady and confusing days. Your sweet and rousing piano arrangement lifted my soul's ear, and gave many of my emotional expressions something to be reflected in... a feeling, albeit fleeting, I can only describe as wonderful.
>Toni Collette - For the scene in the film The Sixth Sense, where your character and her son are caught in traffic because of an accident involving a bicyclist. It's a strange thing to be a child. I don't mean a juvenile, I mean a person with parents. I'm convinced we're created with some kind of mechanism with which to process the ideas of father and mother, as they are among the most unique and puzzling features of humanity. When that relationship is unreasonably strained, or taken too far away from its best expression, often sorrow and emptiness follow. I've not seen the struggle to cope with what those roles do to our souls portrayed better than when your character tells her son what she said at her mother's grave. You were there, in those moments, and I was there with you... as much as it's reasonable to be, anyway.
>My Friends - For your time, your treasure, and all the cherished places each of you abides in my heart. I'm not altogether sure why some people mean so much in one arena of life, and others less, but it's clear this is a foundational truth of the human experience. More than most other kinds of relationships, friendship is at once both enriching and rewarding; passionate and volatile. I'm often at a loss to express adequately the depth my feelings to them, but plainly said... I love my friends. I've often thought of them as extended family. Most of my friendships have been dynamic, some temporary, and all have been a way of revealing some aspects about life, and myself, I otherwise might have missed. I don't easily share my burdens, but I have on many occasions had my spirit genuinely lifted by the listening ear of a friend.