WHAT IS THIS ODD, warm feeling of kinship we seem to get every few years when the Olympic Games roll around? What exactly are we supposed to call it without sounding too maudlin and foolish?
Patriotism? Nah, couldn't be patriotism. That pretty much went out with Ike and JFK in the '50s and early '60s. Patriotism hasn't really mounted much of a comeback since.American pride? Nah, that died a slow, tortuous death during the rest of the '60s and early '70s when a favorite pastime was burning U.S. flags, not raising them.
Maybe, it's a feeling that whatever our personal differences may be, deep down we're all still Americans?
Nice thought, but as I recall, that feeling went by the boards sometime during the Tuned Out '70s and Me First '80s and has become downright rare in the '90s.
So, what are we supposed to call this odd, warm feeling that grabs so many of us as we watch our young athletes compete against other countries in the Olympic Games?
Whatever you want to call it, it sure is nice, isn't it? Too bad it only shows up once every few years. If you could bottle it for year-round use, you'd be a millionaire.
From the opening ceremonies until the closing of the Olympics, we sit in front of our TV sets shoving a lot of that heavy baggage we tend to carry around for each other in this country into the back of the closet.
Put much of the prejudice, fear and intolerance on hold.
For a couple of weeks, we're all on the same team - no matter what our names, how much we have in the bank, or where we live.
Those are our children in Atlanta going up against the best athletes from other countries. Our boys and girls - young men and women.
Our children from the projects, heartland and country clubs of this country.
Local kids with names like Benitez, Ctvrtlik, Evans, Salmeen, Hejduk, O'Neill and Wang.
Kids of different nationalities, religions, colors and backgrounds all walking tall and proud together into an Olympic stadium for opening ceremonies behind the same flag.
Our flag.
If the sight of that didn't cause you to take a deep breath or feel a lump of pride in your throat, you better make an appointment for a complete physical. Something's definitely wrong.
This isn't a movie. There are no special effects or test audiences to see what works and doesn't. Nobody's yelling "cut - take it from the top with a little more emotion."
There are no space aliens attacking the White House on Independence Day to jump start our patriotic juices - if only for a few hours in a dark movie theater.
No, the Games don't need any help from Hollywood to make us rekindle those lost feelings of patriotism and American pride.
Our U.S. Olympic athletes do that on their own, just fine.
And their only ticket into the Games is talent. You can't buy a spot on this team. You can't be left off because of who your daddy is, or isn't.
How important is this? Look into the eyes of your child. Look into the eyes of any child riveted to a TV screen these next few weeks watching their favorite Olympic events.
You can't miss the look. It's full of adoration and envy - full of the stuff dreams are made of. The same dreams we all had as children.
Being a professional athlete may be unreachable, but being an Olympian isn't.