Tuesday, February 23, 2010

witnessing history

I love the olympics, and it seems to grow each 4 years.

Those atletes have worked so hard to reach their dream, that I don't even mind when they end last.

Ofcourse I'm thrilled when someone from my country wins, o yes, I am.
But to hear the stories of some people touches my heart even more.

A few days ago someone asked me if I allwed my children to watch in the middle of the night.

When they were younger I would do the same as my grandma: ghet them out of bed to see history when it was taking place.

She threw herself in a huge row at the time of the first moonlanding. She made my mother clear that missing some sleep over something that should be remembered was of a lot more importance that a yawn during the day.

I still remember how my father and I sat only half at the couch, both bending forward to see it all even better. To witness the first steps. No other light than the TV.

It has changed me. I'm still missing sleep over a shuttle mission. (I even dream of witnessing a launch one day.)
And I even stay up late to see "our" skaters give the best they have.

When I can't be in Vancouver I can at least watch it when it happens.

I know it's ridiculous. We can get replays here all the day, and they're as good as the live version.
But the special feel of witnessing it right at the moment it happens creates something special that can't touch at the feeling of seeing it hours later.

Some people ask me what my secret is of appearing so young.
My gram was asked the same.

We share our enthousiasm for special events in life.

Thanks gram!!


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