I’m not sure the exact moment, but as long as I can remember, I’ve always had a soft spot for the Olympic Games. Maybe because my parents enjoyed them and we’d watch the television coverage as kids, or maybe because I grew up swimming and swimmers shine (and dominate!) during the summer games. For years I played with a small plastic bear picked up at the annual Buddhist Fair in my hometown (and I think I even had a plush teddy bear like the one seen here). It was the mascot from the ’80 Moscow games which the U.S. boycotted. Those trinkets must have been really, really cheap. ;)
Together with family friends we spent an early, sunny evening on an industrial street in Hayward watching the torch relay before the ’84 games in L.A. Halfway through college in the summer of ‘92, one of my co-workers mentioned that his girlfriend was going to the events in Barcelona. Someone going to the games? Before this, I hadn’t thought regular folks did this. I’ve harbored the dream of going ever since.
I found it inconceivable to see Sarajevo at the center of a civil war in the 1990s. It hosted the very successful ’84 Winter games. How could this happen?
As a fresh Peace Corps volunteer in St. Lucia in the summer of ’96, all the volunteers gathered for dinner at the home of our director to watch the Opening Ceremonies in Atlanta. There was a buzz in the room as someone knew someone who would be walking with the St. Lucia contingent. We waited a long, long time…and just as Sri Lanka came in, they cut to a commercial! When they came back, the U.S. team was storming in. Doh! During the games, my three homestay brothers would be allowed to stay up late with me in the living room and watch the coverage. Each night, starting with the youngest, and then the middle brother, and finally the oldest, they each fell asleep around me.
One evening late in the month of September, 2000, I went to my parents’ home for dinner and to watch the daily coverage from Sydney. It would be the last evening I would spend with my Dad.
Flash forward a few years and I’m married to a guy who loves gadgets, technology, and TV. Put them together, and I’m staying up late at night watching the ’06 Torino games and high on the myriad of cable channels. Sleep deprived and a little loopy, I exclaim, “Noel, you’ve GOT to check out the ski jumpers in high def!”
Together with family friends we spent an early, sunny evening on an industrial street in Hayward watching the torch relay before the ’84 games in L.A. Halfway through college in the summer of ‘92, one of my co-workers mentioned that his girlfriend was going to the events in Barcelona. Someone going to the games? Before this, I hadn’t thought regular folks did this. I’ve harbored the dream of going ever since.
I found it inconceivable to see Sarajevo at the center of a civil war in the 1990s. It hosted the very successful ’84 Winter games. How could this happen?
As a fresh Peace Corps volunteer in St. Lucia in the summer of ’96, all the volunteers gathered for dinner at the home of our director to watch the Opening Ceremonies in Atlanta. There was a buzz in the room as someone knew someone who would be walking with the St. Lucia contingent. We waited a long, long time…and just as Sri Lanka came in, they cut to a commercial! When they came back, the U.S. team was storming in. Doh! During the games, my three homestay brothers would be allowed to stay up late with me in the living room and watch the coverage. Each night, starting with the youngest, and then the middle brother, and finally the oldest, they each fell asleep around me.
One evening late in the month of September, 2000, I went to my parents’ home for dinner and to watch the daily coverage from Sydney. It would be the last evening I would spend with my Dad.
Flash forward a few years and I’m married to a guy who loves gadgets, technology, and TV. Put them together, and I’m staying up late at night watching the ’06 Torino games and high on the myriad of cable channels. Sleep deprived and a little loopy, I exclaim, “Noel, you’ve GOT to check out the ski jumpers in high def!”
So will my boys love them like I do? Time will tell. I’m guessing for the immediate future they won’t. But maybe one day when they look back they’ll be able to recount some Olympic memories, too.
1 comment:
this could be my favorite blog of yours so far :) And you beat me to my own blogging of the Olympics - !!!
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