Reality Check: post-party depression

Some of what follows is related to the company I work for, TransLink, but they're my personal thoughts, not offered in my official capacity as Public Information Officer.

In many respects, it already seems like a lot more than a week has gone by since the end of the 2010 Winter Olympics. The last of the house guests left a week ago yesterday, Sydney, Jarome and Dany are again sworn enemies and Roberto is yelling at his teammates to protect Henrik and Daniel, not take a two-hander to clear them out of the slot.

And the post-Olympic navel gazing is already underway. Professional pundits and the "man in the street" alike (if you've seen the movie, "Remains Of The Day", which I did yesterday, you'll have a completely different view of the "man in the street" concept) are talking about what a grand party it's been and the "lessons learned". How, people ask rhetorically, can we keep this momentum going and push towards the next generation of "Vancouverism"?

Folks, your reality check just bounced.

There are two common threads that I see in the discussion of the post-Olympic legacy. One is in the way of maintaining the wonderful atmosphere that took over the city -- using pedestrian malls, public "celebration" spaces and dismantling a key road network linking downtown with the east end.

We have to remember that there were disruptions to businesses and day-to-day life during that 17-day period. Many schools and public institutions shut down. Ordinary life had to work around the Games and the parties, and now that it's over, there's a bit of a sigh of relief that we could get back to a semblance of normalcy. The focus of the grand visions for our city is too much, I feel, on how to provide party space and play areas for people and not enough on how to marry this new way of thinking with day-to-day life.

It's interesting that much of the assessment of the "success" of the Games has to do with the "feel-good" sensation and the notion that the "legacy" is somehow tied to that. That's like using a drug high as a substitute for genuine happiness. Having more and better public spaces is a good way to temper the other aspects of urban life, but any development has to go slow and consider all the realities. Vancouver is still a very young city and its development tends to be driven by the hubris and a desire to prove it's just as big as the old-established places, rather than evolve over time of the celebration spirit.

OBSERVATION: the smartest thing anyone could have done was close the liquor stores early. Someone wrote a letter to a paper saying that would just promote the "Nofuncouver" image; but we've earned it because in the past, from showing absolutely no wisdom when it comes to partying and drinking. Remember that concerts by Elvis Presley (1957) and The Beatles (1964) had to be shut down early because the crowd was on the verge of rioting; then there were the Grey Cup Riots (pick a year) and the Gastown Riot (which, inexplicably, has been raised to worship status by a giant mural inside the atrium of the Woodward's project); not to mention the Stanley Cup Playoff riot of 1994 and the smash-up when Guns 'n' Roses cancelled its show. Remove alcohol from the equation, and it's amazing what you come up with.

The other unfortunate thread is in the assessment of how public transportation performed during the games. The years of preparation paid off with brilliant execution, and literally from Langley to Lions Bay, ordinary folk and experts are asking how that "momentum" will be maintained. Some demand more buses, more often; others look at the Olympic Line streetcar and say we need to use that mode throughout the transit system.

No one is talking about how to pay for it. I mean, really: the Olympic Line was operated free of charge - who wouldn't love to ride it? Transit operators had a vacation-time blackout during the Olympics, so they'd be available to drive the additional buses that were provided to handle the extra passenger loads. I've actually read a couple of letters to the editor, saying that they don't want to hear "TransLink doesn't have the money" as the reason. This, even though last fall, when the Mayors' Council approved a budget that only allowed for service to be maintained, it was made clear that the funding wasn't there to do anything more. It was in the media: surely, those who write letters to papers actually read those papers?

(In a posting on my other blog, "Rev. Downtown", I chide the anti-Olympics protesters for expecting someone else to pay for the things they demand in society. It's really the same thing with this situation.)

But that points to the biggest reality check of all: the fact that any quality-of-life improvements related to the Olympics -- the temporarily improved transit service, the party atmosphere, the "people places" created around the city -- came at a cost. There were, as many have noted, serious disruptions in day-to-day life, which forced people to change their thinking and their behaviour. They were able to do that for that 17-day period: has that been enough time to make them re-think how they live, work and play?

Paradise Found

"I have found Paradise!"

God works in amazing ways, bringing people and situations together. With the Olympics over, spring busting out in Vancouver and my life becoming all too sedentary again (transl.: the fine work the Lord had done in shaving 20 pounds off my frame was starting to reverse), I couldn't wait to get on my bike and ride to work again. The ban on bikes on SkyTrain was ending, so yesterday was The Day. (My ride to work is much too far to tackle by bike, so I ride to Waterfront Station, take SkyTrain to Patterson or Royal Oak and then ride the rest of the way to Metrotown, since bikes aren't allowed at Metrotown Station.)

Except I -- who had written the dang press release -- forgot that, when the rule said "no bikes on SkyTrain until March 3", that meant March 3 was the last day one could not have a bike on SkyTrain, not the first day that one could.

The nice SkyTrain Attendants decided to "use their discretion" (which TransLink policy allows) and let me ride, but lest I cause any grief on the return journey, I decided to hitch my bike to the front of the #19 bus and go home that way.

And here, as you'll see, is where God took over, because what followed could only be Him at work with what some might call a "chance encounter".

A group of people also got on the bus at Metrotown and sat next to me. They were black, and their accents told me they were from the US. One of them struck up a conversation with me, and it turned out he was from Mobile, Alabama, and had come up to drive the media buses for the Olympics. He would be working through the Paralympic Games, as well, making the runs to and from Whistler.

"It's so beautiful here, and the people are so nice and polite," Ed said (that was his name - Ed), "I called my wife a few days ago and said, 'Honey, I found Paradise!' Know what amazes me? So many cultures here -- and it don't matter! White, black, brown ... It don't matter! ... Man: you guys are 'bout a thousand years ahead of us!"

Ed looked about the same age as me, and I did a quick flashback to the headlines from my childhood -- the mid-1960s would have been a whole lot different for a black kid in Mobile, Alabama than they were for a white kid in Vancouver.

For all the negative carping about the Olympics, the inescapable fact is that this has been a defining moment for our country. I don't mean, as spelled out in any rhetoric from officials, but as shown in a kind of spontaneous, organic manifestation as the Games progressed. Sure, winning all those medals helped, but I get the feeling that even if Canadian athletes hadn't been as successful as they were, people visiting for the Games would have come away with a totally different view of Canada than they'd had before -- and seen Canadians as rabidly patriotic, multi-cultural (there's a guy who works in one of the Metrotown office buildings, a Sikh with huge beard and turban and who occasionally shows up in a vintage Oilers "Mark Messier" jersey: only in Canada, I say to myself) and, yes, unfailingly polite, courteous and welcoming.

It was a "defining moment" that none of us really expected, and I don't think it over-states the case to suggest that it's rather like the battle of Vimy Ridge, almost 100 years ago. We came together as a nation then, and in a totally different way, came together as a nation now.

(Warning: with exposure comes risk, and our swaggering patriotism -- while justified and DEFINITELY nothing to apologize for -- caught some commentators by surprise. Gil LeBreton in the Fort Worth Star-Telegram made no friends north of the 49th with his column, which likened the sea of red to the 1936 Olympics in Berlin. But whether he meant to or not, we have to realize that he gave us a taste of our own medicine. For decades, we have smugly defined ourselves as being Not American and have taken pride in putting down our neighbors for what we consider to be over-the-top jingoism. The 2010 Olympics proved we can be just as nationally prideful as any star-spangled Yank, Empire-yearning Brit or Kangaroo-toting Aussie, and while I'd be one of the first to say, "It's about bloody time!", we have to remember that we, too, can be called down for it by the very ones we criticize. Make sure the flag you wrap yourself in is made of sturdy fabric.)

But I digress. How would people like my newfound friend Ed have learned about Canada -- and learned about what's possible in a multicultural community -- if not for the Olympics? He'll go home to Mobile and will tell others about his experience in Paradise, and while that may not translate into a Crimson Tide of Alabamans surging into BC to buy up property, they'll have a new goal to shoot for in their own society.

A cynic, Oscar Wilde famously said, knows the price of everything and the value of nothing. We've had myriad assessments of the price of the Olympics, but such things as Ed's experience remind us that the value of the event can't be measured in gold -- medals or otherwise.

It's the light of Christ, baby!

Priscilla Lopes-Schliep has just won the bronze medal in the women's 110-metre hurdles, and CBC commentator Diana Swain told about the time she interviewed Priscilla at the trials in Windsor, ON. Swain said she found there was "something different" about her that set her apart from the other athletes: a level of confidence the others didn't seem to have.

Let me hazard an educated guess. The answer was hanging around Priscilla's neck -- and I don't mean the bronze medal. The Cross.

Indeed, when Elliotte Friedman interviewed her, one of the first things she did was to thank everyone "for their prayers".

In other words, what Diana Swain picked up -- although she may not have realized it at the time -- was the light of Christ; the knowledge that one possesses that "X-factor", which can push someone beyond their worldly limits. I believe we saw a young woman who was humble in her performance: delighted, proud, happy for all those who'd supported her.

Some people sniff at the idea of athletes praying before or after a game, the team prayer circle or the ballplayer who crosses himself stepping up to the plate or who points Heaven-ward during the home run trot (or even after getting a base hit, for that matter). "What? Is God supposed to take sides, or be a Canucks fan all of a sudden?"

(The way the Canucks tend to snatch defeat from the very jaws of victory, evidently not.)

God does take sides: He supports, blesses and saves all who call on His name. He supports them, by strengthening them where they are weak and protecting them from unexpected injury and attack. That doesn't necessarily mean He'll rig the outcome, because God is not a fixer. But He will help someone to the absolute best performance they can turn in, and if the opponent still wins, it's because he or she performed even better.

Put another way, I could take on, say, Michael Jordan at a game of one-on-one hoops. I could spend two weeks prior to the competition in a combination of devout prayer and working on my outside shot, layup and vertical leap, but unless God wanted to teach Mike a lesson in humility, he would still take me, 125-6.

BUT ... I would have played my best game ever!

More to the point, I would have gone into that mis-match knowing it would be my best game ever, and Mike would have wondered about this serene confidence coming off this middle-aged guy.

And that, I believe, is what Diana Swain was picking up off Priscilla Lopes-Schliep. It was the Spirit, which, combined with God-given gifts, led to a world-class performance that makes a whole country feel really good!