Of This And That

Last night saw the arrival of the Compte de Rienville, who had had quite enough of overseeing French security at the London Olympics. After a fine dinner a small party occurred, involving the Compte, my minder Irving, his computer whiz colleague Rachel, and yours truly. For some reason, all felt like a sing-song, so nothing would do but gather round the piano and let loose with a number of oldies and goldies from the Spanish Civil War.

This choice had come about with the Compte's observation that corruption still was too much in evidence at the Olympics. I made the point that it was at least better that when old Juan Samaranch was in charge, the man who insisted on being called "His Excellency". I mean, really. And this was the guy who was Education Minister under Franco -- hence the draw of the Spanish Civil War.

Later in the evening, the Compte having noticed that I was somewhat subdued, I admitted that my two daughters weren't on good terms with me at present. Both Victoria and Isolde had somehow obtained tickets to various Olympic events. Earlier in the day they had called me, expressing outrage about some goings on at a soccer match, and an insane (their term) result of a boxing bout. They sought my opinion, looking for support.

They didn't get it.

I explained that I don't watch any event that involves interpretation on the part of judges or referees. I also avoid like the plague anything that has the word 'synchronization' in it. I stick to timed events, and am quite content watching swimming races (but not diving) and all activities related to track and field. These allow an athlete to compete as themselves, without some incompetent (or worse, corrupt) official throwing a spanner into the works. Yes, timed events have supervisors, but these people are there to ensure fairness-- starts, sticking to the prescribed lane, or measuring the distance of a throw or jump. In other words, such officials ensure a level playing field. Referees and judges too often tilt the field itself.

The girls did not accept my stance on this issue, wanting me to join them in some heartfelt wailing and bemoaning at whatever injustice had affected them. This to me was getting close to whining, something that I will not countenance under any circumstances. The call then ended abruptly, and I was left feeling not a little remorse.

Irving had listened to all this, and was spurred to remark, "You know, Simone, this will happen again and again."

"Well, that's comforting," I responded gloomily. "And just how do you know this?"

"The Talmud."

"Oh, of course. The Talmud. And just how does that ancient text speak to this issue?

"Very well," replied Irving. "Quite simply, it states, 'Do not attempt to understand your children. They were born in a different time.'"

I will have to ponder that for a bit, but it was in a way.......comforting.