An Olympian Mother

I watched the historical unveiling a new world record, setting new heights for athletes and changing the sport of swimming during the last week of this memorial time. As I have watched during my 45 plus years of viewing this Olympic event, I cheered for the USA swim teams and all the other participants over the last week and followed the news headlines from various commentators. My focus was on the mothers and fathers of these Olympian champions in these events.

But my most memorable moment of these events is of one who supported the dreams of the now famous swimmer of all times in Olympic history, Debbie Phelps. I felt her elations, anxiety, pride, and her shock of the last individual swim her son would finish by .01 to take the gold medal as she had to sit down from the shock or realization of what her son had just accomplished at that moment as the crowd around her were roaring their cheers of support for Micheal.

She is the true Olympian of this event in my eyes. She is the epitome of a devotion as a mother which represents the role model of all who are in her place as a nurturer, supporter, teacher, chauffeur, cheerleader, nurse, nutritionalist and the list goes on as we who are carrying the role as a mother.

I was so touched by emotions as I can see the bond of love and respect they have for one another. Micheal, searching the crowd of followers and supporters to find the placement of his mother and sisters and then to present her with the tokens of roses after each event to receive the loving touch and kiss from his mother for all his efforts. She should be recognized and honored with her own gold medal for raising such a truly devoted and loving child who has struggled through childhood, overcome obstacles, and devoted to help make his dreams and aspirations come alive, who has earn the respect and admiration from the world that she now is sharing with the world to love also.

I'm sure I will read somewhere as to the "sacrifices and struggles" she has endured to achieve such a goal for her son, Micheal, but I say no to those words of descriptions for her. Mother's don't sacrifice and they don't struggle. Mothers give and want and with determination and will for their children. All of us can achieve what this remarkable mother has accomplished.

Congratulations Debbie Phelps!!! and to all the Olympian parents out there who shared their glory of moments with the world.

A Time When........

As I sit in front of my desk and ponder of my day, I found myself reflecting back on a time when I was younger, a child filled with fascination and curiosity. My days would be filled with excitement and passions to explore the world outside of my home, my room and I would find ways of entertaining my thoughts of creating a new adventure.

Those younger days were filled with catching June bugs and tying a small thread on the legs and watch them twirl and buzz around my head and then letting it go in hopes of catching a glimpse of it the next day, flying by with the same thread on it's leg and then I'd know it had come back for more fun and pleasures.


Just before "dark-thirty" as I used to call it then, I'd ask Mother for a jar with a lid and go out at dusk and catch the twinkling lights glowing here and there in the yard and fields until I'd get a nice sizable amount of those sparkling lightning bugs to display in my room, in the dark watching the glowing reflections through the glass and thinking I had captured the stars from the sky as I would drift off into a slumber of bliss from an adventurous day.



On rainy days, when my siblings I and would have to stay inside, we'd play games of all kinds. Not the technical online games of today, but ones that we actually interacted with each other. We would dance around the dining room chairs to play musical chairs and laugh as we tried to push each other out so that we could be the winner. Hide and seek and playing One Potato, Two Potato to see how was the seeker of the game. If we got too rambunctious, Mother would send out into the garage where we would find a piece of soapstone in Daddy's treasure trove of wood shop-garage and on the concrete floor we'd mark out a hop-scotch board in the area where the car was parked when Daddy would come home from work. I would spend hours searching for the perfect flat rock to use for this game and then hide it for safe keeping when we were finished. I bet my Daddy was wondering why he had rocks tucked away in the corners of his tool boxes.



Oh and jump roping, what a fun activity which later advanced to double dutch and learning to chase someone in and out of the ropes. Of course after I could get my brother to play with me and my sister, then we'd have to play marbles or Jacks and sometimes we'd join him setting up his G.I.Joe combat zones and play with him by using the marbles as canon balls.

Those were days of exploration and creative wonders of my mind. I wonder if children today even know what such entertainment to fill their days is really like anymore with all the organized recreational team sports that begin from the end of school until the summer is over and then it is time for school to be opening the doors again. They have a wide variety of choices these days with such activities and not to mention the internet connection to the world outside their own room, but I'm not sure they're better choices. I'm just content to recognize the joys and wonderment of my childhood in a rural community where it wasn't hollering distance to the next door neighbor. We forged out our own worn down beaten trails with our hikes or bicycles to the neighbor's yards.