February 11, 2026
The Winter Olympics have begun!
Now, you wouldn’t necessarily think that
anyone in this household would have any joy at the prospect of seeing winter
sports played on the world stage and shown on our television. We don’t care for
winter, not one bit. We abhor the cold, the ice, and the never-ending struggle
to stay warm. We cheer when Ground Hog Day finally arrives and pray for an
early spring. All this is true and I will never deny it.
But
what also is true is that we enjoy watching more sports of the Winter Olympics
than we do of the summer games.
The ski jumping, the snowboarding, especially
the aerials, and the moguls hold endless fascination for both David and me. We’ve
never truly aspired to be performers of any of those truly mind-boggling feats.
But we are happy to bear witness, to cheer in support of successfully executed derring-do,
or groan in commiseration of a wipe-out, as the case may be. Some of the tricks
these amazing athletes pull are simply un-fricking-believable.
We’ve always enjoyed watching figure
skating events. Now, here I must confess that from the nineteen-nineties to the
early-aughts we were traumatized by the spills we witnessed on Olympic figure
skating ice. You know you’re on shaky emotional ground when your field of vision
is obscured by the splayed-fingers-in-the-fear-of-imminent-disaster. In the
years post Albertville and Lillehammer, Salt Lake City and Turin, we drifted
away some from watching those events.
And of course, while the fortunes of our
own Canadian teams have always been nearest and dearest to our hearts, whatever
the discipline, we are eager to watch and cheer greatness and grit regardless
of the nationality of any performer with heart and/or talent.
The phrase “Jamaican bobsled team” still
brings a smile to my face.
In fact, I think those gentlemen should be
celebrated as the kings of the spirit of the Olympics. They had no hope in hell
of ever winning, or even medaling, but they gave it their all, regardless.
We watch news casts each night that we’ve
taped—mainly because we’re not ready to watch when they are actually airing.
And then, because the winter Olympics have indeed begun, we turn to a Canadian
network where we can be assured of discovering the results for most of the
events of the day, regardless of the nationality of the medal winners.
In 1998, at the Nagano games, was the
first year that curling became a medal event. And we discovered that sport as
we sat and watched our Canadian Women’s team, skipped by the late Sandra
Schmirler, play excellent ends on their march toward the gold medal. We’d never
actually watched curling before, but we were hooked before that first game
ended. Now it’s a must-see event for us—even in non-Olympic years.
We have nearly two weeks left to enjoy
this wonderful change of pace programming each evening. The competition is
fierce, especially from those who are not athletes nor, at this time, the focus
of the world’s attention. Not an unexpected bit of noise amid the true-life
drama of honest athletic competition. That’s all right. I’m a mother, a grandmother
and a great-grandmother.
I know how to handle the tantrums/distractions
of jealous toddlers.
And I am getting better, day by day, at
living in the moment. I celebrate this moment, this day, for the joy, and for
the heart and determination that is on display, the show itself a truly
international achievement.
I’m reminded of the time back in 2000, I think
it was when my eldest grandson was eight. His family visited during the Olympics,
and I asked him if he’d seen one of our Canadian gymnasts performing in particular
event I knew to be one of his favorites. He sighed and said, “yes, but he only
came in fourth.” He made the word “fourth” sound like the most disappointing
substance, ever.
I waited until he was looking at me, and I
gave him another perspective. I said, “Wow, out of all the boys or men
in the world who are gymnasts, he came in fourth! The fourth best in the
world! That’s great!”
I recall that at the time, he went with it
and immediately seemed to feel happier than he had. I have no idea if any of
that change in perspective stayed with him, but I like to think that down deep,
it has.
So, let the games continue—and let us all
continue to keep hope alive!
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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