Grace & Leisa, Frozen Neighborhood Creek, 2010; images, text: copyrighted. Best Shot Monday.

Fond memories. Lots of them pouring in. The Trigger: the Winter Olympics.  In 1986, I was fortunate to travel as a reporter three times to ga-ga-gorgeous Vancouver and surrounding provincial territory for their World Exposition. (I also covered New Orleans' Expo in 1984 and worked in Knoxville's 1982 World's Fair. And, as a wee lass, traveled with my family to Montreal's '67.)

Our Canadian neighbor is the next best thing to Europe, in my opinion. I also honeymooned (the first time) in Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island and covered the 1988 Olympics in Vancouver, British Columbia's neighboring province of Calgary, Alberta.

Ditching my disdain for the boob tube, I watched the games while snowed in once again late last weekend and early last week before snow thawed and life resumed its hustle. Again, I
was impressed with all these fresh-faced American athletes. What energy,
endurance, enthusiasm, strength. They are so
young. And articulate. I was wondering if they now school them how to
communicate with the press? Surely. They give such savvy, confident,
professional interviews. (NFL football players could stand to take note.)

I was reminded of the exhilaration of being at the games more than 20 years ago. It
was one of the most thrilling experiences of my life. Diversity saturated our environment. Different-looking faces. Different shades of skin.
Different native tongues. Yet, the broad smiles on everyone's face and the
beam from their heart communicated a universal language. Vividly, I recall during the
opening ceremony, seeing the Japanese seated behind us proudly waving
miniature versions of their national red dot on white flags. I remember trading pins with burly, fur-hatted Russian men.

It's as if all
our world-weary worries stopped for a brief two-week period of time.
Like the blankets of snow fallen here, there was a hush and a
spirit of Peace. For a fragment of time, it's as if World Peace were real and not a seemingly unattainable mirage. For a brief two weeks every other year, it's as if the rubbish and noise of our hatred, fights and differences are shushed and we get a glimpse of living in a Utopian bubble where we live in a manner that is of our highest humanity.

May the Spirit of the Olympics live on and infuse our hearts with the Spirit of Peace always.

I had the best of intentions of scanning some photographs of taken on a frozen Lake Louise and our drive back from Banff. Alas, I could not decode how to activate the scanner in my new printer. Pfff.