Personal Neil Armstrong

I just stumbled across the US Championships (of figure skating, duh) on TV. There was a time in my life when I would have known the exact schedule of this event a full month before it began, and here I am today happening upon it by chance. There is a simple reason for this travesty (because I'm sure you all see it as such). Her name is Michelle Kwan.

Michelle Kwan was my man on the moon. No really.

I listen to my parents tell stories about their parents waking them up to watch the news the night Neil Armstrong bounced around the surface of the moon, and all I can think about are the nights (and there were many) where I would grudgingly tromp up the stairs at my bedtime. I was obviously a bit tetchy about this. What's that? You don't understand why I would be upset aside from the long standing tradition of kids hating bedtimes in general? Well you see my bedtime was predictably slotted to take place before Michelle Kwan stepped on the ice. It was just because she was so daggum talented so she of course was always the last one to skate. Drat you NBC and your ratings-hungry schemes.

Anyhow where was I? Oh yes, begrudged tromping. My specialty. Well my parents, being that they are lovely people who care for my emotional well-being (and in this case stability) would often whisper-yell my name upstairs to come back down. We all pretended I hadn't been lying in bed with my eyes wide open for the past two hours, straining to hear everything going on during my absence (because I was pretty much naive enough to assume they were still glued to the Grand Prix or World Champs or whatever it was). Without fail my covers would go flying (along with my poor Bitty Baby Sarah-Claire...Yes I gave my doll a double name. I'm such a Richmonder it hurts) and I would hurl myself down the stairs until I reached the corner where I would be visible to my parents. At this point I would slow down to a relatively normal speed, and enter the room in a dignified manner. Okay thats a fib. I Tazmanian-Deviled my way into the room every time. And then literally sat on my knees in front of the TV Sound of Music style (a la minute 1:06) and breathlessly awaited her appearance.

She may not have been achieving anything as great as old Neil did, but she meant that much to me. When I think of being a kid I think of those nights, and how earnestly I admired her and how much I loved getting to tumble down the stairs in my pajamas and sit with my parents while she kicked ass (ubiquitous side note: the footwork in that one still takes my breath away). Whether you like her or not you do have to admit that she did what she did well. She has 9 gold medals at the US Champs, 5 golds at the Worlds, and 2 medals at the Olympics to prove it (plus more, but I'll spare you at least that). I actually got see her win one, but that's a whole 'nother story.

I can't necessarily prove it, but I'm pretty sure that everyone has their own version of my Michelle Kwan homage - their own personal Neil Armstrong they tumbled out of bed to goggle at. Someone or something that whips them into an unabashed frenzy of excitement and admiration and support and joy. I sure do miss mine.