Welcome to the games of the 22nd Winter Olympiad, or is it the 19th? You know, XIX, or something like that. I’ve lost track along the way. But it’s OK. Trust me. I’ve been here before, and not. And so, I would surmise, have you, dear reader.

As I penned these words, the youngest of my progeny looked up from the television and told my Little Frau and I that “we should take up ice dancing.”  We told her no, of course, and therein lies a slippery slope of another variety altogether. The era of life that would have allowed such an undertaking has come and gone, but we are OK with it.

It seems that I can measure life and its seasons by the games of the Olympiad, winter style. When was that major life event? My eldest daughter was born slightly before Lillehammer, Norway, 1994, I seem to recall. I can close my eyes today and see Elvis Stojko’s powerful routine skating to the soundtrack of “Dragon,” the Bruce Lee story, and suddenly I’m lying in the floor of our little house in Texas with an 18 month old crawling all over me.

Today, Elvis has left the building, and that building is currently located in Sochi, Russia, at least for today. The kids who are currently skating for the gold were not yet even a gleam in their parent’s eye back in that day gone by. And that little 18 month old? Well, she is suddenly 18 years older…and then some, and is soon to be speeding (down the aisle) for the gold herself. “Gold” being the shining interlocking rings of holy matrimony. I wonder if she would let me play the soundtrack to “Dragon” as I accompany her for the processional? I digress.

Along the way from the memory of Lillehammer, there was Nagano Japan, and Salt Lake City, and Torino Italy, and finally Vancouver British Columbia. I remember bits and pieces of each: personalities, performances, and perilous falls. Continue reading Keep your seat; seriously. →