February 13, 2006, 4:15 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

When I was a kid winter skiing, either alpine or cross country, was a big deal in our house. My father had forgone big firm law opprtunities by relocating his young family to the mountains, all in an attempt to avoid the weekend ski traffic. So whether we wanted to or not, every weekend we trouped out the door, into the cold and up the lifts. There was many a weekend day when I looked down yet another impossible mogul field, seeing my father and brother at the bottom, when I hated them and their skiing ease with all my heart. The weekends were split into lessons on Saturday and family days on Sunday. And then later, in prep school, we spent anywhere from two to three days on the hill as well. The exception to this was every four years when the Olympics magically came to our world. Then we would gather round the TV and watch all weekend long: alpine, cross country, the nutty lugers, the ice skaters. I loved it all. It meant no long treks from the parking lot to the lift, no hefting my horrid gear, no trudging in those god-awful boots, no freezing thumbs, no life shortening, child eating moguls….

To this day I still love the Olympics. The drama. The life stories about the athletes’ devotions. The athletic excellence. Those people are pure grace. Last night I began this year with watching the speed skaters. I have done no preparational research for this year’s Olympics. I don’t know who from what, except from the little cut -in dramas that the TV network offers. No matter, I jumped right in and started rooting. Although I give nary a hoot about speed skating, I was suddenly entranced. The beauty of those skaters as they swish around the rink again and again. And then suddenly Matt grabbed the remote and changed channels. He explained that they had many laps to go, all the laps looked the same, we could hop in for the last few laps and all would be well. No. Not at all. ALL WOULD NOT BE WELL. These are the Olympics for fuck’s sake.

Now, to give him a break here, I have to mention that he might no fully grasp the history here. My father was super busy with his work when I was a child. After ditching the big city firm, he started his own. He worked 26 hours a day. Eight days a week. Until ski season or an Olympic year. We’re talking sacred ground. So in an attempt to recapture my lost youth, I grabbed the remote, told him that although the laps looked the same, it was our duty to watch every freaking one of them.

Tonight there has been no argument. Downhill, speedskating, snowboarding. Drama. It’s all here in my living room.  And I love it.


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You know, I barely even know the Olympics are on, though Dereck has mentioned wanting to watch them several times. But I like the winter sports.

That doesn’t surprise me a bit about Matt and the remote control though. He was always taking it away from me, too. Does he ask you to make him sandwiches? He actually used to ask me to make him sandwiches when he was watching TV in the basement. Little jerk.

Comment by Jen

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