In February 1972 (forty years ago!) my friend B and I went, in my little blue Chevy Nova, to Lake Placid to watch a weekend's worth of the international winter games.
B was short and blonde and curvy. I was tall and thin with long hair in two braids and cheekbones that could cut glass.
The night of the opening ceremonies, all the participants made a parade, and as B and I stood watching, cheering, laughing with the rest of the commoners, two of the passing athletes waved to us, swooped their arms to invite us into the parade. B and I looked at each other with eyes and mouths wide.
A man next to us said, "Aw, go on!"
We ran, laughing, to catch up to the young men and we all trooped along through the village back to the lodge and a reception. "Our" two young men . . . tall light-brown-haired Esa from Finland, dark and muscular Wolfgang from the Austrian team, were downhill skiers . . . they would compete the next morning.
Wolfgang was quite charming.
"Do you know what my last name means in English?"
I shook my head.
"It means kiss hunter!"
Oh my.
We felt like Cinderellas at the ball.
Next morning we went out to Whiteface Mountain, climbed up to a good vantage point and stood watching as skier after skier zoomed by. We stayed until our feet were numb and then went back down the mountain.
We never did quite know if we'd seen Esa or Wolfgang in action, but it didn't matter.
We talk about it now and can't believe that that was us!
Ponder this:
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19 comments:
What a fun memory to have in your kit bag.
Lovely story - and what a photo!
What exciting stuff that must have been in those days. The Olympics, marching in the parade, the young men. How exciting indeed!
What a wonderful memory . And how nice to know that you're both part of their Lake Placid memories , too .
It wasn't the Olympics that year...it was just "international games." Some kind of lesser, smaller, mini-Olympics, I gather.
Not being into sports of any kind, the distinction was never clear to me.
Wolfgang and I never would have lasted, what with me not being a skier.
And S&S . . . hah! I'll bet the two of them never gave us another thought, much less tucked us away in their memories for forty-year-later daydreaming.
Those spur of the moment memories, are the best. I can just see you and your friend giggling about your shared story!
Wow! That's something that I wouldn't forget soon. What a treat! You have some good memories to share with me. Thanks! :-)
I like this. Amazing what we do when we are younger and more risk-taking. Amazing. Dianne
What a fun story. Oh to be young again...
How exciting! I think of things I did years ago and wonder the same thing...did that really happen?
"cheekbones that could cut glass" - gosh, how do they look now? I hope they're not just memories... Do you ever wonder where Wolfgang is and what he looks like now?
Oh Barb....do I wonder???
I've Googled Wolfgang six ways from Sunday and haven't found him!
Great photo, and a lovely tender memory to take out and look at.
What flirts! (The boys, I mean.) I wish there was a little more information on how the night went though ;p
Ah, the spirit of youth. I bet you wouldn't do that today.
I hope you still have those cheekbones.
Must have been a GREAT time.. I have several memory lapses from that time.. LOL
What a great story!(Oh, to have cheekbones like that!)
One to tell your grandchildren...
What a good memory. I'd love to see that mountain for real, it looks so spectacular even in the photo.
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