Another Day in the Country
An Olympian POI
© Another Day in the Country
Our modern world is full of acronyms. Usually, I disdain them. OMG is about the only one I use in texts. If someone uses other shortcuts on me, I have to look up the meaning.
This week, I became acquainted with a new one: POI, which is “person of interest.” It stuck in my memory bank because of some clever television advertisements airing for a new show whose title is the opposite a POI. It’s “PONI,” meaning a person of no interest.
People of retirement age become PONIs all to easily when they no longer have careers.
In political circles, women were — and unfortunately still are — often considered PONIs, but this week I’m thinking about POIs, and I have some new ones.
I’d never heard of Illya Malinin until last Friday when I tuned in for news of the winter Olympics in Italy.
Even though I’m an ice-skating fan, I haven’t watched competitions for ages. In fact, I’ve been steering as far away as I can from any kind of ice these days. For me, none of them are recreational.
However, from the comfort of my couch, I’ve been immersed in the thrill of winter Olympic sports, causing me to ignore the warm weather in my own backyard.
Illya is a skating wonder. Chock and Bates were on my radar, too, for POI status with absolutely stunning choreography.
One can only imagine the pressure these young athletes are under. Illya looks like a teenager. I was relieved to find out he’s 21 years old, which means he’s had a little more experience in navigating stardom than some of the teenage stars we’ve watched in the past.
This got me to thinking about what it means to be a POI and how we find them in our lives.
My list of POIs begins pretty close to home with my sister, my kids and grandchild, cousins, their kids, and friends.
Saturday night, as we were playing games with my cousin’s kids, 8-year-old Madilyn (whom I call my bonus grandchild) said she’d won the spelling bee for Grades 3 to 5 and would be going to Goessel to compete in the next phase.
“If I win that,” she smiled broadly, “then I might even be in the paper.”
I assured her that she would — be in the paper.
I remember my Uncle Hank (who would be Madilyn’s great-grandfather) telling how he won a spelling bee in school and went to compete at Navarre.
“Our teacher took us out to eat, and it was my first time eating in a restaurant,” he said. “I didn’t know what to order, so I just ordered what my teacher ordered.”
To me, Uncle Hank was always a POI amid a host of Schubert relatives.
Even fringe friends fall into the POI category. A fringe friend are people I’ve met. I enjoy their company and wish I could get to know them better, but circumstances aren’t cooperative.
Many of them are people I’ve met where I exercise in Abilene. I see them week after week and strike up conversations with some of them. I may not even know their last names, but I watch for them to show up.
I’m interested in Billy and Anita, Dallas, Steve, Mike, Lisa Marie and her sister (whose name I can never remember) and Nancy. If I don’t see them, I ask about them.
A few POIs have become good friends. We go out to coffee regularly with Dennis and Jane. We make plans to meet our friends Michaela and Phyllis from Lindsborg — for lunch, dessert, or just an excursion. They’re important to us, and spending time with them is a priority.
Each of my third-, fourth-, and fifth-grade art students at Centre immediately becomes a POI for my sister and myself.
Once they’ve gone on to higher grades, we watch for those kids in the lobby as they move between classes. We’re interested in how they are growing up and what they may become, even though they change so fast that we have trouble recognizing them or remembering their names.
For any of us, reaching the status of POI is quite the honor. Being a POI is also a responsibility. A POI is a person with influence. A POI can set an example of excellence.
While very few of us get the chance to be a POI for the Olympics, we all can be Olympian in our own roles in life.
Ask any mother if she doesn’t feel like a downhill skier on a very fast hill most days. Ask any man you know if sometimes the job he goes to every day feels like a triathlon.
It’s another day in the country and an opportunity for you to tell those Olympian POIs in your life that you’re proud of them!