The day after the Olympics is always a… letdown.
I start to write this article after Tamar Kanarian has a post-Olympics blues post on social media. It is a ritual for her. My waiting for her post before I write has become a ritual for me. She has posted.
Home. Laryngitis. Post-Olympics depression settling in. #AYFolympics
So, I am writing…
The Olympic Weekend is an intense three to four days of living the Armenian and AYF spirit. It is an annual gathering of the clans, literally. It is a time to catch-up with each other, renew friendships, meet new friends, watch the current AYF members compete and, of course, attend the dances. The weekend comes to an abrupt halt, and the realities of the non-Armenian parts of our lives quickly resurface. We all ask ourselves some variation of “What do I have to do before we return to work (or school) on Tuesday… ugh… I am so tired… and sad.”
The whir, hum and pace of modern living does not allow us to wallow in our post-Olympics blues for very long. Just like last Wednesday at work seems like a million years ago to me right now, the Olympics will seem like a long time ago by this Wednesday.
But, truth be told, Tamar and I will be living and reliving the Olympics for several more days. She will be culling down, editing, cropping and enhancing the thousand or so photos she took of the athletic events over the weekend. Sona Gevorkian and I will be doing the same with the thousand or so photos we each took. Along with Harry Derderian and Bob Tutunjian, I will start writing articles for the Armenian Weekly Special AYF Olympics Issue. We are not sure if this labor of love actually dissipates or prolongs the post-Olympics blues.
Will we do it again next year? In Worcester? Most definitely.
Thank you Chicago indeed.
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