The Olympics

The Olympics, held this time in China, have already ended, when it seemed that they had only started yesterday. The mixed appraisals are already well underway, but the main thing is that, as usual, some people have won while many more, there and back in the athletes' home countries, have lost. And everyone who went was glad at least just to have been in Beijing, or so we are told. At least it was in the summertime.

I used to be as interested in the Olympics as most others. I especially liked the marathons and the track relays, especially if, in the latter event during that ethnically restricted era, the winning quartets consisted mostly of people who at birth had been dipped into the same widely scorned vat of dye as me. But as the decades wore on I couldn't help reaching the same conclusion that also applied to pro football, pro baseball, pro basketball, rock concerts, and all other events that draw the ravings of millions, which was that if you've seen and -- as importantly, because of all the "nation" garbage -- heard one Olympics, you've pretty much seen and heard them all.

This happens due partly to the truth of the old Roman dictum that all glory is fleeting and partly because of the necessity of receiving the broadcasts accompanied by the comments of some noticeably scrubby, mere mortals. The original Olympics, you might remember, were held under the auspices of gods. That was where they lived, you know, somewhere atop Mt. Olympus.

If my ignorance of how all those all-important contests turned out over those years left huge gaps in my head that, in the absence of that information, could only be filled with toxic substances, I would now be in a lot of trouble. But things must not work that way.

I kind of thought so. Because otherwise how did so many generations of ancient Mayans and Incas live out their lives contentedly enough while never knowing what the ancient Greeks and Romans were doing at the same moments, and vice-versa? This shows that airtight parallel universes can and do co-exist without a hitch even on one and the same planet, though in this age that proposition is being put to a severe test.

And meanwhile that lack left plenty of room for my head to pack in instead practically all that there is to know about the rigors of listening for thunder, and a little about many other cool things as well.