Olympic Moments

                        A few of Liz's granddaughters showcasing their Red, White & Blue Spirit
                                                             Chloe, Caris & Kelby

 

I am suffering from withdrawal.  Olympic withdrawal.  The games are over but I wish they weren't.  I love everything about that two-week sporting-fest; from the elaborate opening ceremonies  (though the Brits had me a bit baffled with their giant creepy baby this time around) to the tear-jerking athlete profiles (which is why I was cheering for a runner from Grenada) to the final heart-pounding moments of every last contest (those badminton athletes really know how to hit a slow-moving basket over a low net).  And I find I get just a tad bit obsessed causing my overwhelming need to see it all to supersede my need to sleep.  This leaves me wandering around for two weeks in a drowsy haze.  I’ll catch myself speaking in delusional exasperation like a drug-addict seeking her next fix. "Does anyone know what happened in air rifle???" I will utter, hoping someone can fill me in on what I've missed while I had to attend to some meaningless task like using the restroom.  Doesn't my bladder know this is the Olympics?  Misty May-Traenor will not wait while I pee!!!

This time around, I was mesmerized by something called single-canoe-white-water-slalom during which the observant commentator noted, "this is one of those sports you only watch once every four years."  Or apparently,  once every thirty-eight years, because that's how often I've seen it.  I didn't even know it existed.  And you can bet I'll now be setting my DVR for 2016.

But if I'm being honest, the real reason I love those games so much is not the spirit of competition or the perfect physical specimens that partake of it (though clearly that's why I watch water polo).  No,  I love the games because of the nostalgia.  My mom loved her some Olympics.  And some of my fondest memories are of summer vacations sitting in front of the TV rooting for Mary Lou Retton.   Mom would bite her nails down to the quick, hold her breath and grab my leg in excited anticipation as we silently prayed that Mary Lou would stick that vault.  Then she would yell and clap and laugh in anxious relief when Mary Lou landed solidly on both feet.  We would talk about it around the dinner table and use vernacular as if we were experts in the finest complexities of every sport.  "Hopefully Louganis can hit that full-twisting-double-pike with a clean entry."  What?  Nobody cared that we were totally making stuff up. We thought we were brilliant and that's all that mattered. 

Mom would get so excited for those games and her excitement was contagious.  We all caught it.  And like a virus that lies dormant only to reemerge to wreak havoc on your life in four-year increments,  I'm still infected with it.

And it made me realize Mom's Life Lesson #9:

GET EXCITED. 

EVEN OVER THE LITTLE THINGS.

It's not like we were competing in the Olympics.  We never knew a single athlete. Never had any money riding on the winner of table tennis (you know, that pastime we call Ping-Pong every other time of the year?).  But Mom still treated those two weeks like they were something really special.

Life is full of those little things.  The trick is recognizing them.  Mom could spot them a mile away and in doing so she taught me that if we don't get excited over those small moments, then it's all pretty much going to be really boring.

She was that way with everything.   Her motto was,  "It'll be fun!"  And most of the time when she said it, she was talking about something that nobody actually believed would really be any fun at all.  Road trip with seven kids?  Sounds like fun!  Two-hour board meeting?  Sure, it’ll be fun!  Dentist?  C’mon, it’ll be fun!  So in order to humor her, or perhaps to avoid disappointing her, we all jumped on board.  And it usually turned out, well…fun.   

It’s true that Mom’s absence makes it more difficult for me to find those exciting moments sometimes.  I’m not the natural she was.  But I’m trying.  So, when my three girls ask if we can go to the grimy county fair in the 100 degree heat or play a 19th round of ‘Guess Who’, what I’m really thinking is that I would rather take a nap.  But I can hear my mom.  And she thinks that it would be fun.  She would be excited about it.  I can always nap another time.  As long as the Olympics aren’t on.