It's hard to believe it was 30 years ago today...or was it yesterday...or perhaps it's tomorrow, well nonetheless it was approximately three decades ago the US hockey team knocked off the then-feared Soviets in a thriller at Lake Placid endearing a group of young men, who were wearing hockey mullets before they were fashionable, into the hearts of people through this great country.
Because of that, the phrase "Do you believe in miracles?! Yes!!!" and chants of "U-S-A! U-S-A!" were thrust into our sporting/pop culture vernacular and the minute anyone says them with any sort of exhuberance most immediately conjure up a memorable time not just in this country's sporting history but history in general.
I remember exactly where I was the night the Americans beat the Russians...sitting in the bleachers in the old Blue Earth High School gymnasium, still recovering from my "big" brother Mikey's heart-breaking loss in the regional wrestling tournament semifinals costing him a trip to state and me a long weekend of hotel fun up in "the Cities." It was a devastating loss one of which my bro more than made up for by qualifying the next three years for the state meet.
I still remember the gym full of wrestlers, coaches, cheerleaders, wrestling enthusiasts and those who had nothing better to do in the Blue Earth area that late February evening. It was sensory overload to the n-th degree with all those people jammed into that old building, but when the announcer's voice crackled over the loudspeaker..."Final score in Olympic hockey...Russia 3...the United States...4!" the place shook as fans of all these different schools who were pitted against each other at some time during the grappling festivities found a common bond...a bond so strong the only way to recognize it was to let the emotions pour out.
I'm willing to be at least 50 percent of the people in that gym didn't know what icing was or what offsides was in the sport of hockey, but they didn't care. We had defeated the dreaded Russians and it was time to burst at the seams with a patriotic pride I had never witnessed up to that point of my first 13-and-a-half years of life and I haven't witnessed since then.
It truly turned out to be a "Miracle on Ice" and when the Americans stayed true to the Hollywood plot line by knocking off Finland to earn Olympic gold, the storybook tale had its perfect ending.
It really is hard to believe that was 30 years ago and to think how my life has transpired since then is equally amazing, but that's for another time and another blog.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Tired of the heavy 'pet'ting
When I was a kid, my family had a handful of dogs as pets at various moments of my childhood since the time I was a wee little one until I moved out on my own. The last dog we had, a toy terrier affectionately known as Elliot, was more than a family pet, he was as much a member of the family as any of us.
Despite his propensity to get a little too excited about one of us coming home on even the most average of days or the daily taunts of "squirrel" by one of us or one of the bored the neighborhood kids which tossed him into a whirlwind spaz attack that fatigued a person just watching him, Elliot was very well loved and returned that love ten-fold.
If you were feeling blue, good ol' Elliot was at your side giving you someone to cry to or if two siblings were getting into a argument he was there to bring a sense of calm because there's no sense yelling at each other when you can't hear what the other is saying over a barking dog. If you were the fortunate one he chose to sleep with on a cold winter's night, his body cranked out warmth that rivaled those Nipco heaters my dad used to use to keep the temps up on some of the out buildings on the family farm.
Elliot just had a certain sense of connectivity to all of us that we all cherished and really didn't have with the other siblings. Oh sure, us siblings have grown somewhat closer as we've aged but I couldn't tell any of them some of the things I used to spill to that four-legged therapist. I still get misty-eyed thinking about how he took off, never to return to my father's home, shortly after the last of my siblings moved away from home.
One of the most devastating phone calls I've ever gotten was the one from my dad telling me "Elliot's gone and I have no idea where he is" and that idea still lurks out there. Deep down, a part of me wants some bit of closure with the desire to find out what happened to him, but my better senses tell me to just leave it alone and respect the good memories.
For the past year or so, the pressure to get a dog has become greater as my own children have cranked up their efforts in convincing Teresa and I of our need for a family pet. We've been able to hold them off with reasoning like "winter's not a good time" or "this house is still too new" or "summer's too hot", but I gotta give the persistent little buggers credit for their perseverance.
I suspect we can only hold them off so long before they take matters into their own hands, pool up their money and buy a dog themselves. And, it doesn't help when that dang Sarah McLachlan gets on the TV screen during that PA announcement which comes on almost nightly showing the most helpless-looking animals accompanied by "In the Arms of an Angel," which gets my kids misty-eyed and my body bombarded with pangs of guilt coursing through it. (Which does beg the question, "did they rough the animals before filming, or did they really find them that way?")
I have come to the realization there isn't better motivation for my significant other and I to wean the kids off TV.
Anyway, I keep searching for more excuses as to why we shouldn't get a dog and as my kids get smarter their responses getting more insightful and painful.
"Who'll clean up after it," I ask them.
"Same people who'll clean up after you when you get old," my oldest will say.
Anyway, I'll keep my guard up as long as I can but it looks like Operation Hildebrandt Family Pet might finally be drawing closer to "Mission Accomplished" status...unless I can scrounge up some fresh new excuses.
Despite his propensity to get a little too excited about one of us coming home on even the most average of days or the daily taunts of "squirrel" by one of us or one of the bored the neighborhood kids which tossed him into a whirlwind spaz attack that fatigued a person just watching him, Elliot was very well loved and returned that love ten-fold.
If you were feeling blue, good ol' Elliot was at your side giving you someone to cry to or if two siblings were getting into a argument he was there to bring a sense of calm because there's no sense yelling at each other when you can't hear what the other is saying over a barking dog. If you were the fortunate one he chose to sleep with on a cold winter's night, his body cranked out warmth that rivaled those Nipco heaters my dad used to use to keep the temps up on some of the out buildings on the family farm.
Elliot just had a certain sense of connectivity to all of us that we all cherished and really didn't have with the other siblings. Oh sure, us siblings have grown somewhat closer as we've aged but I couldn't tell any of them some of the things I used to spill to that four-legged therapist. I still get misty-eyed thinking about how he took off, never to return to my father's home, shortly after the last of my siblings moved away from home.
One of the most devastating phone calls I've ever gotten was the one from my dad telling me "Elliot's gone and I have no idea where he is" and that idea still lurks out there. Deep down, a part of me wants some bit of closure with the desire to find out what happened to him, but my better senses tell me to just leave it alone and respect the good memories.
For the past year or so, the pressure to get a dog has become greater as my own children have cranked up their efforts in convincing Teresa and I of our need for a family pet. We've been able to hold them off with reasoning like "winter's not a good time" or "this house is still too new" or "summer's too hot", but I gotta give the persistent little buggers credit for their perseverance.
I suspect we can only hold them off so long before they take matters into their own hands, pool up their money and buy a dog themselves. And, it doesn't help when that dang Sarah McLachlan gets on the TV screen during that PA announcement which comes on almost nightly showing the most helpless-looking animals accompanied by "In the Arms of an Angel," which gets my kids misty-eyed and my body bombarded with pangs of guilt coursing through it. (Which does beg the question, "did they rough the animals before filming, or did they really find them that way?")
I have come to the realization there isn't better motivation for my significant other and I to wean the kids off TV.
Anyway, I keep searching for more excuses as to why we shouldn't get a dog and as my kids get smarter their responses getting more insightful and painful.
"Who'll clean up after it," I ask them.
"Same people who'll clean up after you when you get old," my oldest will say.
Anyway, I'll keep my guard up as long as I can but it looks like Operation Hildebrandt Family Pet might finally be drawing closer to "Mission Accomplished" status...unless I can scrounge up some fresh new excuses.
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