I'm sure my very rusty Latin is horribly wrong but the tag loosely translates as after the greatest joy comes a period of melancholy. That seems to be how a great many Canadians are feeling this week.
When you get right down to it, a blog is really just a diary, 21st century style. It can be anything between a record of daily events, revelations of the human soul laid bare, an ego-trip, a travelogue (with or without photos). This one is mostly just ruminations and reflections on whatever takes my fancy - and a way to escape for a few minutes occasionally from the fell clutch of circumstance, the bludgeoning of chance and the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.
We've had winter sports style olympic games in Canada for the past two weeks or thereabouts. I tried hard, but they couldn't be avoided or evaded entirely, and by chance I saw several of what the commentators called 'defining moments.' One was a race on skates in which three men skating very close together one behind the other were competing against three other men also skating very close together half way around the track from the other team. When it was all over one team of three, the Canadian team, had won by some very small fraction of a second. I have no idea how that was calculated. By chance, and a compulsion to look at something absolutely incomprehensible I saw the final of the men's curling, again won by the Canadian team, whereupon the spectators, tens of thousands by the look of it, had some sort of collective orgasm. And finally I saw either as it happened or in one of innumerable replays the overtime or extra time (what's the difference?) goal with which the Canadian men's hockey team beat the American men's team to win the gold medal. I was rather relieved to hear one of the authorities on hockey say that he had been unable to see the puck because it traveled so fast from the striker, a young Canadian hero called Sydney Crosby, into the net behind the goal keeper; I hadn't seen it either, though the packed rows of spectators evidently did, and roared their approval lustily. The press, radio and TV had left the impression that failure to win the gold medal in the men's hockey tournament would be somehow akin to loss of national sovereignty to invaders from Lichtenstein or Botswana. I suppose that even after 40 plus years of living in Canada I'm not yet fully Canadian because I'm indifferent to the outcome of sporting events such as hockey (known as ice hockey in the rest of the world; here it needs no qualifying adjectival noun). Yet after these rather snide comments I must add how very favourably impressed I was by the insightful, thoughtful, intelligent remarks that many of these young athletes made when being interviewed on radio or TV. Clearly they are not merely the world's best at their particular sport, they also have very good minds, and in many cases, values that match my own - their hearts are in the right place. I found this encouraging evidence that the future will be in safe hands if some of these youngsters become our national leaders in a few years; at least one hinted that she hopes her future might include service in elected office. I hope so too, and hope she displaces one of the meretricious, ethically challenged tenth-raters now holding office in the government of Canada. Hearing her vision of a future Canada was the most uplifting experience I had during these Olympic Games. I can't remember her name but she skates, has won medals in summer as well as winter games, and has done good work in low income developing countries. With such as she to look forward to, the future could be brighter than the present. Listening to what she said a few days ago certainly lifted my spirits.
No comments:
Post a Comment