When I was 10, a girl named Deanna Seifert was kidnapped while she slept at a slumber party, and found murdered later. She was 10 years old also. If memory serves, one of the pieces of evidence that cracked the case was her fingerprints, found on the inside of the back window of the van of a family friend. I remember reading about this in the newspaper, and imagining her looking out the window of that van, and I do remember also wondering if she knew she was close to the end of her life. These are not, uh, pleasant thoughts in my memory, and neither is the memory of how I often sat in bed, unable to sleep, waiting to be kidnapped.
In case you're wondering what in the heck this has to do with the Olympics, allow me to draw the connection. I don't recall the exact circumstances of this, but in some capacity, I watched the Olympics, taped from the TV. (This was probably classified at the time by my parents as sanctioned television viewing, as little else was when I was a kid). Anyway, I remember watching the Olympics, a lot. And NBC's Olympic music, the bombastic flourish that introduced and concluded their coverage (the "bah, bummm buh bum bum BUM bummmm..") became a signifier of the structure and security inside the Games. For some reason, I associated that sound with a feeling of safety, as indeed the Olympics were. Athlete after athlete, remarked upon by sure-sounded announcers, took turns at their events, doing the same safe thing over and over.
And so now, watching the 2010 Olympics, I find that NBC's musical flourishes are still associated in my subconscious with safety. The same is true, by the way, for Bob Costas and that lady who sounds like a man. They all soothe me still.
