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The
Olympics: What makes us cry?
And how
does it bode well for Logan County?
By
Sam Redding
[SEPT.
30, 2000] Let’s
analyze that rivulet of salty water that tends to retrace its path
down your cheeks each time you watch an Olympic event. Follow it to
its source in your eye, then locate the duct of its origin, then
isolate the nerve that triggers the duct to release its liquid load.
Backtrack along the nerve, through its nodes and synapses to a spot
in the brain where the first electric impulse was charged by a
thought. What thought?
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What
thoughts arise in our minds during the Olympics to cause tears to
flow? A variety of thoughts, I think—distinct mind-blooms that can
be classified and, therefore, understood. Of course, sometimes several
mind-blooms explode at once, sending shock waves of nervous vibration
that rattle tear ducts and turn rivulets into streams. But let us
consider the thoughts individually, granting that they may combine on
occasion for maximum voltage.
We
might conceptually define one tear-producing thought as
"patriotism." Hearing our national anthem gives rise to this
thought, but so also does recognizing the grand historical anomaly
that is America, with its faces of many colors and its surnames
reflecting a thousand national origins. Our country is simply not like
any other: It is better. It is better in ways that make us assume
divine providence. America is not better because we are of superior
stock or sit on greater resources or are in any way genetically
superior. We are better because we are free, and it has been our
destiny to show over the course of two centuries—a lightning flash
in the long night of history—that democracy and freedom work.
Francis Fukuyama wrote of the end of history, meaning that liberal
democracy as evidenced in America is the political and social end to
which all history has pointed. Our national charge is to reach out and
bring other peoples to where we are. Or so it seems to that spot in
the brain that sparks proudly when Michael Johnson mounts the victory
stand and the star-spangled banner rises to the top of the pole.
"Recognition
of human excellence" is another category of tear-prompting
thought. It is often accompanied by a tinge of guilt: "God, if I
could just be really good at any one thing!" Most of us must
settle for trying our best to be pretty good at a lot of things—doing
our job, raising our kids, supporting our church, helping our
neighbors, mowing our grass, watching our weight, practicing our
piano, driving our car. The burden of being pretty good at life can be
smothering, and Marion Jones’ athletic brilliance and engaging smile
bring us joy and respite. Someone else is pressing the bounds of human
possibility; I guess I can take a rest.
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column]
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I
am partial to the sport of swimming because of the inestimable
"heart" it requires. Imagine the pain the long-distance
runner endures. Now imagine the runner gasping for oxygen with his
head in a bucket of water while at the same time lifting weights with
both arms. You have just imagined a day of training for a swimmer—one
day in a string of days that span years leading to an Olympic
performance (or even a respectable showing in a high school meet).
Swimmers demonstrate a level of internal fortitude that makes one
think that with focused effort all things are possible. Misty Hyman,
you have enough heart to lift a mountain. Supreme internal fortitude
makes me cry.
Patriotism,
excellence and heart are attributes that our brains are hard-wired to
respond to. There are surely more. When Maurice Greene prays at the
starting line, I reach for a Kleenex. Remember the painting of George
Washington kneeling in prayer before Valley Forge? Greatness is most
beautiful when its powers are humbly drawn from a transcendental
source.
I
wonder if we experience spurts of improved personal productivity every
four years, fueled by the inspirations of the Olympics. If so, then we
may be on the cusp of a very good time in Logan County. Through a
salty stream, we can see clearly now.
[Sam
Redding]
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