The best of three runs. That would win the gold medal in Cortina. After a long day and evening of remote work upstairs, I rode the stair lift down at 7:30 p.m. (I still can’t walk) to visit with Mom and watch some of the last 2026 Winter Olympics events. For all the speed of speed skating, the grace of ice dancing, and violence of ice hockey, the free-ski half-pipe held me riveted. I had a hard time getting my brain (and imagining getting my body) around the speed, power, height, artistry, twists and flips, and backward landings of the free-ski half-pipe skiers. Mom and I watched together, while she pulled the needle and yarn through her latest needlepoint. She muted the commercials, and I asked her the routine questions of our daily visits: “Have you heard from Jeanette today?” “What did you have for lunch?” “Did you play Go Fish with Rochele?” We watched the first run: nearly every skier fell. Then the second run. “I’d like to watch the 9:00 news,” Mom said at 8:30. I suggested we see where the event was at when 9:00 came. The third and last run. Incredible runs and scores. Three skiers to go. Who would win the gold? “It’s 9:00,” Mom pointed out, fingering the remote. “Can’t we watch the last runs to see who wins the gold medal?” I asked, incredulous. She looked crushed and disappointed at my question. “I’ll do whatever you want, dear,” she choked. I suddenly felt like my late dad, prisoner for three years to his diabetic paralysis and to Mom’s unilateral wielding of the remote. “Enjoy the news,” I said flatly and stood. I rode away on my scooter and up the stair lift to my room to fume and watch Deep Space 9 reruns, while Mom got her third daily dose of murders, rapes, child porn arrests, immigration crackdowns, and fatal accidents—and the weather, again. So, who won the gold?

(Photo of gold medalist Alex Ferreira from nbcolympics.com, used under the Fair Use Doctrine.)