SHANNON

During the summer of 1996 I turned 5 years old. That same summer the American Girl’s Gymnastic team won the gold medal in Atlanta. I remember it because for 2 weeks in August my mom, my dad and me sat on our couch each night and watched. If you asked people today what happened during those Olympics well they hardly remember that there was a bomb and all, or Muhammad Ali lighting the torch but most people remember Kerri Strug, the little gymnast who with a sprained ankle and the whole world watching performed her final vault and stuck her landing making herself and her team champions. Now I don’t remember this because of what happened that night in Atlanta. I remember this because every day since then my mother has made me watch that video of Kerri to, as she says, “remind me that life is painful and that sometimes the pain is worth it.”

At first when I was younger it was kind of comforting. It became our routine together at night. I would have my bath and put on my pj’s and she or my dad would read me a story and then right before it was time to put the lights out she’d say, “OK, lets watch Kerri” and then she’d flip on the video and we’d sit together for the 2 vaults, the first one where she sprains her ankle and the second one where she asks Bela (her coach) “Do we need this?” and he says, “We need you to go one more time. You can do it” and then she does it and everyone goes crazy. After we finished watching my mom would just pick me up and put me in bed and say, “Remember honey, you can do it.” and then she’d shut out the lights.

When I got older and my friends would come for a sleepover it kind of became their ritual too, they’d say, “hey Mrs. H when you coming in to show us Kerri?” and then they’d laugh a little and my mom would come in and turn it on. It was kind of embarrassing, but I just went along with it. One night, one of my friends asked, “What does she mean? You can do it. Do what?” I said, “I don’t know.”

One time I tried to ask my dad about the video and why my mom felt it was so important for me to watch it. He just said, “It’s a small thing, do what your mother asks, she loves you.”

Last night my dad said my mom needed to go to the hospital. He said, “She’s depressed, and she needs to be somewhere where people can take care of her.” I said, “We can take care of her”. He hugged me and told me it was going to be ok. I looked at him and didn’t know what to say. He said he was exhausted, and he looked it. He said he was going to bed and when he turned and went upstairs, I went into my bedroom.

When I turned on the video it was already cued up, but the sound was down. There was Kerri hobbling on her one good leg after the first vault looking like a deer that had been left behind for the lions. Her eyes reaching out seeking something she cannot name. Then Bela, her Romanian coach, is talking to her and looking at her with those strong dark eyes, his lips move but I can’t hear what he’s saying because I hear my own voice speaking those words, “we need you; one more time…you can do it.”