My Olympic Dreams

My serotonin levels have decreased the older I have become.  I’m not saying that I’m not happy, because I am, very, but I can’t remember the last time I was giddy, screaming at the top of my lungs, heart elated, so full of happy energy that once erupted I found I was forced to run around in circles like some sort of rabid dog.

Before I get into the why in all of that, I want to tell you about one of those core childhood memories that I visit from time to time on those days when I feel like my happiness level is just doing the bare minimum.  I was probably in elementary school at the time, it was the summer.  My dad knew one of the managers at the Quality Inn down the road and would often call him or her, I really couldn’t tell you for sure, to see if my sister and I and him ofcourse could use their pool to swim.  My mother rarely if ever went with us.  Probably because the embarrassment of such a thing if we were ever found out was just too much for her to handle and besides that, she has always been a rule follower and honestly she didn’t altogether believe my dad when he said he talked to his manager friend.

My sister and I would wait with baited breath as my dad was on the phone.

“Girls, we can go swimming,” he would say and then we were screaming, much to the chagrin of my mother, and running, much to the happiness of my father, before falling into a heap on the floor, legs kicking in the air, happy at our great fortune.  My dad really knew such influential people, I thought.  And as a kid, someone that could get you a visit to a pool, in the summer, in the middle of the day, on a random Tuesday, was on the same level as the president of the United States. 

My mom would roll her eyes and shake her head at our antics.  Looking back on it now she was probably just as happy as we were because she got the house to herself, devoid of kids, devoid of husband, for two hours at least.

I was thinking about all of this the other day and it struck me that I don’t know when I have ever been as happy as that very moment.  I’ve been blissful (my wedding day), excited (any trip we embark on, especially if the ocean is involved) but to that level?  I can’t remember the last time.

Why is that? I can’t help but to wonder.  Is it childhood that gives us that open eyed innocent excitement about such small pleasures in life and by the time adulthood overtakes our mind, our body, we are just too tired to feel much of anything at all?  And then my next thought…do kids today get that excited about anything, especially the older ones?  Will going to a hotel swimming pool down the road to play mermaids and Olympic quality underwater somersaults elicit such outspoken excitement as my sister and I displayed back then?

I think the short answer is unfortunately no and social media is probably to blame in all of that.  I didn’t know that other kids my age were jetting off to island adventures or cruises or safaris or even had their own swimming pool in their own backyard.  I really don’t even remember being bothered enough to think about such a thing, but social media has forced unnecessary information upon us.  Today you know what the kid in California or Europe or Idaho or even next door is doing before their parent’s do.  I think that sets the bar too high for our youth.  Forcing them to play the comparison game, forcing them to believe in a normalcy that is not real.  Why would you get excited for something when everyone is telling you what to like and do, be and seem.

It really is quite sad when you think about it.  I sometimes crave the time in my life where that level of excitement existed for me. Although it would probably look strange if every time my husband told me we were going on a trip I began screaming in that shrill sort of way that all kids do, and begin to run at my highest speed before falling on the floor in a kicking heap.  Although he probably would love it.

I will never know if my dad really knew a manager at that Quality Inn, although I suspect that he did for a time.  But I also suspect, knowing my father, that he snuck us into that particular pool, long after that manager retired or moved positions.  We never did get kicked out and I don't remember worrying all that much about that particular possibility because I was too busy showing off my mermaid skills and dreaming about the time when underwater somersaults would become a real Olympic sport because let me assure you, I would have won the gold medal.