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This year’s Olympics promises lots of low lights

BY DAVID LEIBOWITZ Peoria Times Columnist

Delayed a year by a global pandemic, the XXXII Olympiad has commenced in Tokyo. As a child, I would’ve been thrilled, anxious, mesmerized.

How many gold medals would America win? Who would emerge as the Games’ next big star, our next Mark Spitz, Carl Lewis or Mary Lou Retton, our next Florence Griffith-Joyner or Bruce Jenner?

Now, I can barely summon the energy to care. The Olympics just aren’t the same.

Of course, neither is Bruce Jenner. Everything changes, often for the better, though the Olympics seem to be gasping like a marathoner hitting the wall. Why so? A few reasons.

The formulaic television doled out by NBC. The athletes’ desire to tie personal politics to performance. And the changing position of America in the eyes of neighbors near and far.

Olympic TV was a staple once, with Jim McKay, Al Michaels and experts like Donna De Varona narrating. Every night at prime time, we’d all gather before the Zenith. In 1976, ABC broadcast 76 hours of coverage from Montreal. NBC won the broadcast bidding in 2014. They’re planning 7,000 hours of coverage from Tokyo, boasting they’ve created “the biggest media event ever.”

To fill this broadcast abyss — and justify nearly $8 billion investment in broadcast fees — NBC now focuses less on sports and more on storylines, making every athlete a hero out of Marvel comics.

The United States is sending 600 competitors to these Games. To hear NBC tell it, each of them has led a life of systemic deprivation and loss, full of tragedies physical, emotional, personal or societal.

If it sounds like I’m minimizing the struggles of my fellow Americans —

SHELTON’S OPINION — mikesheltoncartoons.com

well, I am. None of us has it easy in this life, nor should we expect to. Success in any endeavor is hard: That’s why when you perform an Olympic feat, you get a gold medal before the world. Turning the Olympics into a 7,000-hour “After School Special” numbs the viewer the way formulas always do. When every story feels the same — when we all know the plot — no story feels significant.

The same can be said of social justice protests: Familiarity breeds disinterest.

This summer, I followed the story of Sha’Carri Richardson, America’s fastest woman, suspended from the U.S. Olympic Team after testing positive for marijuana. I agree with President Joe Biden on this one: “Rules are the rules” was how he put it.

Where I lost the thread was when Richardson’s suspension became evidence of racism.

As USA Today headlined, “Opinion: Sha’Carri Richardson’s positive marijuana test one example of how anti-Blackness triumphs in sports.” Rep. Alexandra Ocasio Cortez weighed in: “The criminalization and banning of cannabis is an instrument of racist and colonial policy,” she said, calling for Richardson’s ban to be overturned.

You can feel it building as these games begin: The smashing of an all-time re-

SEE OLYMPICS PAGE 12

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LOOP 101 & NORTHERN

Find the true meaning of life outdoors

BY JUDY BLUHM Peoria Times Columnist

Missing a few neighbors and friends? We might all be in San Diego. San Diego locals call us “Zonies,” poking gentle fun at us. Californians claim that every other person in their state is a vacationing Arizonan from Memorial Day to Labor Day.

There are jokes made about us, but we don’t care. We’re too cool at the beach to worry about much.

Life is different here. Surfboards and fishing poles are the day’s essentials. iPads, computers and phones are silenced, all drowned out by roaring waves. Important matters are usually centered around which bait is best for an early morning catch. Finding sand crabs is a big ritual. Lures and hooks have to be organized. Poles and lines have to set up just right.

Surfboards have to be waxed to get a good ride. Wet suits have to be rinsed every night, and waves need to be caught at optimal times during the day. Tides need to be understood so you can push off at the right spot. Lots of things have to be considered to make it safely (in one piece) back to shore.

Life holds many pleasures, some common ones that require nothing more than time and curiosity. Have you felt a starfish lately? There’s nothing in the world quite like it. When’s the last time you walked barefoot outdoors in the sand? Could you spend an afternoon watching waves? Do you know the “secret technique” used by the pros when building sandcastles? (Adding water — lots of water while they build).

Oh, did I mention that one to four days after the full or new moon, the grunions (little fish) slither up on the beach to lay their eggs? They come out after 10 at night, so walking the beach with a flashlight waiting to witness this surreal and amazing phenomena becomes an important ritual. Hundreds of silvery, glimmering fish all beaching themselves is quite a sight!

I usually ponder these and other mysteries while at the beach. Some questions have no answers. Have you ever noticed that a 2-year-old with squat little legs can outrun just about any adult?

Why do we think that television and video games matter so much, when children can go for a week with nothing more than a bucket, shovel, sand and waves? How can the moon in the sky control the tides on the shore? Why does the sun seem to sink faster when it’s falling over an ocean? Hmm, more mysteries to ponder.

Looking for the true meaning of life? Live it one wave at a time, run like a 2-year-old, play like a kid in the sand and touch as many starfish as possible. Remain curious so you can enjoy the wonder of a midnight walk in the light of a full moon to watch grunions make their way to shore. More insights might be coming, dear readers, but my board needs waxing. Until next week, stay cool; hang 10. Surf’s up!

Judy Bluhm is a writer and a local Realtor. Have a comment or a story? Email Judy at judy@judybluhm.com.

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That couldn’t happen again, could it?

BY J.D. HAYWORTH Peoria Times Columnist

The young family made quite a drive for this special summer vacation.

Unlike previous warm-weather sojourns, this trip was not to the beach, nor the mountains. Instead, the parents decided that it was high time for their kids to became better acquainted with their country or — more accurately — with its capital city.

The children, with the exuberance of youth, didn’t mind the dog days of summer, with even swampier conditions than those normally found on the banks of the Potomac. Instead, the youngsters were enraptured with the majesty of the landmarks they beheld with their own eyes.

The eldest of the three — a boy of 11 — was especially enthralled. As the family station wagon motored ever closer to the District of Columbia, his eyes scanned the horizon for a landmark that he had only seen heretofore on television screens.

Suddenly, he saw it.

Far in the distance, though the shimmering heat, was the Capitol dome.

“There it is!”

The young man could scarcely believe his eyes, and so he fixed his gaze on that sight, straining to keep it in view, even as his father negotiated the twists and turns of the wide boulevards originally envisioned by the French architect who designed the city.

The next few days proved hectic, as each family member was swept into the “Washington whirlwind.” So much to see! The White House. The Washington Monument. The memorials to Jefferson and Lincoln. The Smithsonian. And, of course, the Capitol.

Far too quickly, it seemed, the vacation ended. But the ride home was not drudgery as much as it was discussion time. Prompted by the historical nature of the sights they had seen, the parents entwined personal, familial and national history in a way that compelled their progeny to reflect upon what they had seen — and what they might become.

This subject matter struck a responsive chord in their first-born child. Maybe it was the way his mother made his personal timeline seem so promising: “You started first grade in 1964. So, you’ll graduate from high school in 1976, the year of our national bicentennial! What a special distinction! The class of ’76. … It sounds a lot like the ‘Spirit of ’76,’ doesn’t it?”

Perhaps it was the shared experience of his parents. Both of them were born in 1932, so they were third graders when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, and they were just about to finish elementary school when FDR died in April 1945. Franklin Roosevelt had been in the Oval Office for almost the entirety of their lives until that point.

Nearly a quarter-century afterward, on a long drive home, with their kids in the backseat, they reflected on the reality — and the enormity — of Franklin Delano Roosevelt in their lives.

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself!”

“Remember those Willkie buttons, ‘No third term for King Franklin?’”

“FDR had polio, but you wouldn’t know it. The newspapers never had pictures of him on crutches or in a wheelchair, but by the spring of ’45, he was in

SEE HAYWORTH PAGE 12

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cord for protests against every -ism worth detesting.

While I share many of those dislikes, where I change the channel is when the protesting feels endless. Turns out, I only have so much hate in me. Sometimes I just want to watch great athletes compete without being force-fed politics in the process.

Other folks, not so much, especially where America is concerned. Before the Games started, American hammer thrower Gwen Berry turned away from the Stars and Stripes during the Trials award ceremony. Expect many more such protests during games full of discord, plus a daily COVID-19 positive test tally.

It’s an apt metaphor: the Olympics, diseased and trending toward life support.

I’ll catch the highlights on the news. And the lowlights, too, of which I’m sure there will be many.

David Leibowitz has called the Valley home since 1995. Contact david@ really bad health.

“Of course, there was a war on, so no one spoke publicly of his condition. That couldn’t happen now, of course. With television, people can see and judge for themselves.”

Over a half century later, most of those parental pronouncements still resonate, but the final observation about press coverage of presidential health unfortunately rings hollow.

Joe Biden loves to invoke the memory of FDR, but it’s the memory of the 46th president that prompts genuine concern.

Television cameras reveal his cognitive decline, but the major TV network anchors ignore it.

No one should wish bad things on Joe Biden, no matter the nature of policy and political disputes, but there’s no disputing this observation.

Kamala Harris is no Harry Truman.

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J.D. Hayworth worked as a sportscaster at Channel 10 Phoenix from 1987 until 1994 and represented Arizona in Congress from 1995-2007.

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