No Olympics in Chicago ...

I love the Olympics. From when I was very young, my mom got us all excited about it and we would curl up in front of the TV every night to watch the opening ceremonies, events, and stories of the athletes and the host cities. I would always envision I was one of the skaters or gymnasts, imagining the routines in my head and the cheers from the crowds.

When my mom told me that the kids in the host city got to help out and didn't have to go to school, I was flabbergasted. I wanted to know why our small suburban town couldn't host the winter games. My mom looked at me rationally and said, "You need places to ski and ice skate to have a winter games, honey."

Never one to shy away from a challenge, I clearly pointed out to her the excellent hill by the Post Office where we used to sled, and the pond where we would go ice skating. To a six year old, those were clearly obvious and ideal places for athletes to show their stuff. My mom had to set me straight, whether I agreed or not, there would be no Olympics in our town.

So when Mayor Daley started this campaign for the Olympics, I was incredulous. But it was the summer games, and if Atlanta could pull it off, we could too. I'll be honest, I wasn't one of the Olympic die-hards rallying for the 2016 games - traffic, taxes, crowds... But every time I would see it I would feel a twinge of excitement -- regardless of the fact I was no longer in school and wouldn't get any time off.

But I thought, maybe, just maybe, we would get it and how fun would it be to bring my kid to the games, and tell them this was about 40 years in the making.

Alas, it wasn't meant to be. I can't explain why I'm saddened, but I feel for Chicago as if she were that Olympic athlete, the one who gives it her all, but doesn't win. I'm saddened for the child in me that innocently thought Alberto Tomba could race down that Post Office hill.

Maybe in another 40 years, Chicago will try again, and win. And I can bring the grandkids.