It is difficult to be enthusiastic about the mediocre. Why is getting a C good? Why is making the team but riding the bench, being the eternal “spare,” a cause for happiness? We all want to be part of Lake Wobegon, as Garrison Keeler described it: belonging to a place where “All the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children are above average .”We are not there, and that is not very reassuring. Perhaps worse yet, we are even more distressed when the mediocre is celebrated.