It's not very often one gets to go back and visit a broadcaster that you had close ties with during a Games. I had that opportunity the last time I was in Moscow, Russia which was in November of 2002.
I used to be in Moscow at least once a year. Circumstances, such as getting married, and then taking care of my dear husband with cancer (RIP) put a stop to the travelling. One of my fondest wishes was to take Ken to Moscow, to show him the city and the people that they say are the most loyal friends in the world.
The trip wasn't really that long after "that day in July" (more about that in a later posting), but going back to the Mezh Hotel where it all happened brought back a flood of memories. I practically lived on their oh-so-good egg pasta and went back for more, and the waiter recognised me, even joked that he knew what I was going to order!
I went to my usual haunts, the Mexican bar down the street from my hotel, the Okhotny Ryad shopping mall downtown, and when life in Moscow gets too much, the Alexander Gardens, right next door to the Kremlin and Red Square, among other spots.
Right before I went back home, I stopped in to see old friends at RTR television. I wasn't sure if anyone would remember me, although I keep in touch from time-to-time with the lady who was the head of their Olympic delegation. It was a big congolmoration of various buildings, trailers and a half-finished new broadcast building that had construction stopped when the Wall fell and the funds dried up.
"Marianna, how ARE you?" came the call from outstide the security gate. I felt sorry for the poor guard, who had to be outside in sometimes less-than-ideal conditions. We walked inside, upstairs to her office and had a cup of tea.
One of the things I notced was a black-draped picture frame. It was of a young man that I remember well from 1996. Little did she (and I) know that during the time they were in Atlanta, he did not feel well. Two weeks after he came home, the fellow was dead of an undetected heart ailment.
People came in and out of her office to say hello---so many that she had to admonish every to "get back to work!" She began to show me around and we went into quite a large studio. There were benches in there, and it gave us a private time to talk.
She was worried she was too tough. I was worried I wasn't living up to her standards. I joked that I knew when she was upset, as she didn't have to say anything as evidenced by her service call one day---and the wait for 45 minutes that I had.
"You remember that day?" I said. In fact she had, and we had a good laugh over it six years later.
We talked about all sorts of things: life since the Olympics, how come I wasn't in Salt Lake City (which is another story), and plans for the future.
She then asked me "what are you going to do with all this?" I had a pretty good idea but even then one year later, I wasn't sure. There was a lull when I got back from Moscow at the end of July (another story---there is always one!), and she gave me some of the best advice I have ever recieved.
"You've got to take advantage of this", she said. "You have been given a wonderful gift and you can do some very great things, but only if you allow yourself to do so." Did she sense a bit of doubt? She is quite perceptive.
We then said our goodbyes, and she walked me out to the gate.
What she said made sense...and I hope up to this point I have taken the advice and used it responsibly. After all, she's been doing it longer than I have, although I aspire to her level of success.
I was watching a TV program about Tamara Mellon, the president of the Jimmy Choo shoe company. She was talking about the period after her divorce and the life questions she had about what was to happen afterward. She wasn't sure about buying the company and expanding the range from shoes to bags, belts and other items.
She decided to plunge in literally, "feet first." The interviewer said "what philosophy do you have for your own life?" She then responded: "face your fears, then do it anyway!"
Just like what my friend in Moscow told me, many years ago.
