Thursday, September 25, 2014

West Nile virus recent deaths reminded me of this story.

Waiting only therapy for West Nile: Family tries to understand disease that took their mom


BYLINE:    PATRICIA GUTHRIE
DATE: December 21, 2005
PUBLICATION: Atlanta Journal-Constitution, The (GA)
EDITION: Home; The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
SECTION: Metro News
PAGE: E1 

During the last hours of the long vigil, they sang, they cried, they repeated well-worn tales from their childhood. The time their mother sent out her own students to look for crawfish and frogs to dissect in class, the way she taught her sons to hunt squirrel and clean fish, how she didn't flinch when her daughter dragged home injured birds and other assorted Florida Panhandle creatures. 

What they didn't talk about was the fluke of nature that had brought her to that moment. 

The next day, Dec. 14, Allene Chapman Atwood, 87, died at Emory University Hospital. Although public health officials haven't confirmed the death as West Nile-related, Atwood's death certificate states she died of respiratory failure as a consequence of pneumonia and West Nile encephalitis. 
 "The diseases we face, they change, they mutate, they evolve and present us with continual challenges. "And, unfortunately, they take good people with them."
             Overall, 20 human cases, including Atwood's, have been reported in Georgia this year. A 63-year-old Columbus man died in October from the mosquito-borne disease. 
West Nile virus is transmitted through the bite of a mosquito that has picked up the virus by feeding on an infected bird. Atwood most likely contracted the virus in late October or early November in the waning days of fall. 

A former high school biology teacher, Atwood spent much time outdoors tending the roses, azaleas and hostas lining her sprawling Stone Mountain backyard, which is bordered by a creek. She was unusually healthy and active for her age, lived alone and still drove to church and the store. She had raised three young children after her husband, Dr. Max Burton Atwood Sr., died in 1959. 

"She loved the beach, she loved the outdoors, she loved the mountains in the fall," said Atwood's daughter Mozelle Funderburk as she held her mother's hand the night before she died. 

Yearly caseload falls 

West Nile first appeared in the United States in 1999 in New York City. Via infected birds, it spread across the country. 
"In the early years, everyone was in a frenzy about it so everyone who got bit by a mosquito thought they were certain to die," said Dr. Stuart Brown, director of the state Division of Public Health. "I honestly feared it would become a major health burden but it hasn't." 

Georgia first reported the disease in 2001 when six people developed West Nile encephalitis and one died. Since then, 142 cases and 13 deaths have occurred. Every year, the number of Georgians sickened by the virus has dropped. 

Public health officials attribute the decline to aggressive prevention and public awareness efforts. They seasonally hammer home the message: Wear DEET repellent and long sleeves outdoors and remove standing water. Atwood's family said she took such precautions. 

Nationally, 764 people have died from West Nile complications since 1999, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. 

Most people recover from it and many never even realize they've been infected, experts say. Only about two of 10 people bitten by an infected mosquito will experience any illness, and usually it's a passing headache and fever. 

People over the age of 50 and those with weak immune systems are most at risk for developing the most serious consequences: meningitis and encephalitis. 
Georgians ranging in age from 5 to 87 have survived or succumbed to the virus, which has no cure and no vaccine. 

"We really don't have therapy for West Nile so we watch and wait," said Dr. Carlos del Rio, an Emory and Grady Memorial Hospital infectious disease specialist who's treated several West Nile patients, including Atwood. 
"It's hard to know what the course of the disease will be," he said. "One man I saw at Grady was really confused and disoriented but three days later, he was fine. And some people go on to develop polio-like symptoms requiring a lot of rehabilitation." 

A sudden illness 

On Nov. 10, the day after coming home from a visit with her great-granddaughter in Auburn, Ala., Atwood suddenly felt feverish and sick. But she couldn't figure out how to use the telephone to call her daughter. She stumbled over to a next-door neighbor, who called relatives. 
West Nile virus had triggered encephalitis, an inflammation of the brain that causes high fever, severe headache and strokelike symptoms, leaving her disoriented, weak and unable to communicate. 
Her fever spiked to 104 degrees in the emergency room. Funderburk called her two brothers in Virginia and California, fearing time was running out. 
Their mother survived but she was left with neurological damage. Day to day, her condition varied, perplexing both relatives and doctors. 
One day, she couldn't swallow; the next, she demanded ice cream, tired of ice chips. 
On Nov. 18, blood tests revealed she'd been infected by West Nile virus. 
'Fought for four weeks' 

Atwood fought off the initial attack of West Nile fever, then the neurological trauma of encephalitis. In early December, she rallied. Doctors transferred her to Emory's Wesley Woods Budd Terrace nursing home to start receiving rehabilitation. But within three days, her lungs filled with pneumonia. She stopped breathing. After being revived, paramedics transferred her back to Emory University Hospital by ambulance. 
Family, friends and minister gathered around and sang into the early morning hours of Dec. 13. Hymns, old show tunes, lullabies. 
The woman with the green thumb and snowy hair had also passed on a love of music. Her "angel choir" didn't stop until 3 a.m. 
Twenty-three hours later, Atwood died with three generations surrounding her. 
"She fought for four weeks. It just took too much," said 55-year-old son Max Atwood. "She just didn't have the reserves." 

Atwood's family is still trying to understand the illness that took their mother's life. The three children, who all work in environmental or science fields, say they found little practical information to help them through the ordeal. They said their mother would have wanted others to learn from her illness. 
"You always hear about West Nile but nobody knows what it does or what to expect," said son James Atwood. 
His mother, born Jan. 31, 1918 in the front bedroom of a farmhouse in Ludowici, had feared malaria growing up, he said. 
That she lived long enough to confront a new mosquito-borne disease is a testament to her long life, he said. 
"It's our environment, it's what's all around us," he said. "The diseases we face, they change, they mutate, they evolve and present us with continual challenges.
"And, unfortunately, they take good people with them."


Photo 
PATRICIA GUTHRIE / Staff 
Mozelle Funderburk clasps her mother's hand (above) after Allene Atwood's family drew around her. 
Photo 
PATRICIA GUTHRIE / Staff 
Granddaughter Eve Brantley and her own daughter, Chloe, catch up on sleep while with Atwood in her last days. 
Photo 

Allene Atwood

Thursday, August 14, 2014

And here's how to make Toddy Coffee, using a commercial Toddy Coffee maker. Published by The Atlanta Journal-Consitution and enshrined by: http://toddycafe.com/toddy-news/16/The-Cold-Truth-About-Toddy-Coffee


The Cold Truth About Toddy Coffee

By Patricia Guthrie
July 7, 2004

(My Joe College nephew just "discovered" cold toddy coffee. I just had to set him straight on this "trend" that I wrote about a decade ago. So old, I am.)


BYLINE:    PATRICIA GUTHRIE


DATE: July 8, 2004  PUBLICATION: The Atlanta Journal-Constitution  SECTION: Food  PAGE: K1


Hey, my coffee is cold!

Sure is.

Iced, blended, shaken, stirred, smoothied, frozen, cubed, just plain cold -- is how more and more metro Atlantans and Americans take their coffee during the meltdown days of summer.

Hold the steam, bring on the cream. And sugar. And milk -- soy, vanilla, chocolate, nonfat, skim, caramelized -- or syrup in every imaginable flavor.
From the big bean machines of Starbucks and Caribou Coffee to independent local cafes to sweet treat stops like Dairy Queen, Krispy Kreme and Dunkin' Donuts, cold coffee sales are hot.

Blended/frozen/over-ice coffee drink sales in restaurants approach $1 billion yearly; it's one of the fastest-growing beverage segments in North America, according to national restaurant retail trade groups. "Retailers tell us that cold and frozen coffee orders can make up 70 percent of gross sales on a particular day during peak season," says Cheri Hays, director of marketing at Caffe D'More, the California manufacturer that first created a line ofcoffee-flavored powder mixes. "Twelve years ago, people looked at these drinks kind of funny. But the last four years, everybody started selling them. You know the average Joe is drinking them when they start appearing at doughnuts shops and gas stations." Coffee Toffee. Ice Vanilla Latte. Espresso Cooler. Espresso Shake. Kahlua Cooler. To an extent, java "designer drinks" are a name game, because blended and frozen coffee drinks contain the same basic ingredient of sweet and sweeter.
Or, as the latest Starbucks billboard asks: "Want a little dessert with your coffee?"

"People like sweet in America," says Stacey Eames, owner of Cold Cream, a coffee and ice cream emporium in Candler Park where customers are abuzz with Eames' original creations: Amazing Coffee Toddy Shake, in which cold concentrated coffee is used instead of milk; and Cold Cream Charger, a shot of espresso poured over dulce de leche ice cream.

Eames remembers when Georgians didn't know beans about a cup o' joe -- hot, cold or dressed up. In the coffee-buzz biz for almost 12 years, Eames says Atlantans have come a long way in their coffee sophistication.

"I started my first coffee kiosk in 1993, when you'd be hard-pressed to find a cappuccino in Atlanta," she says, whipping up her favorite personal drink, a peanut butter/protein powder/banana/cold coffee seriously delirious shake. "How I had to break in customers was to make them a special latte of the day and add a flavored syrup. It made the coffee more palatable."
Eames was onto something way back when, because froufrou and flavor is what the latest American coffee trend is all about. The more gooey, gushy stuff poured and piled on, the more customers. As in way more customers -- from tweens to teens to once stoic "sweet tea for me, please" grandmas.
"There are a lot of 13-year-olds drinking coffee and espresso these days," says Colette Samara, who eight months ago opened Urban Grounds in Avondale Estates with sister Tara Goldman. "The cold beverages also give something for younger kids to drink, like a Double Fudge Mocha, when their parents come in for coffee."
Coffee chains have increasingly turned to coffee-, juice- and dairy-based drinks on ice to maintain sales in warmer months. Look for tea-juice blends and tea lattes to be the next big thing, retailers say.

Last year, about 2 million people a day drank a version of iced and blended coffee beverages; for the entire year, 42 million people reported drinking cold java at least once, according to National Coffee Drinking Trends, a report published by the National Coffee Association.
Retailers generally use powder-based mixes to make their drinks, or they serve up their own creations, made with a combo of coffee, ice, ice cream, milk and maybe some sugar or syrup. Smoothies, shakes, lattes and frappes of every stripe are everywhere.


How about a slushy Lemonade Coolatta or a caramel iced coffee at Dunkin' Donuts? Krispy Kreme offers shots of raspberry or chocolate syrup in its frozen coffee. Both megachains, no doubt, are making up for the low-carb craze. While it's tough to squeeze the carbohydrates out of a classic glazed doughnut, coffee swimming in all kinds of cream is actually low-carb-acceptable. Just don't ask about the calorie count -- some of the frozen coffeeblends can top 500 calories.
Those who are more into coffee for coffee's sake tend to order iced versions of latte and cappuccino, baristas say. These are best made with shots of espresso and cold milk poured over ice.

Caffe D'More, Big Train, Cappuccine and MoCafe are major manufacturers of the powders that already havecoffee, sweetener and creamer in them. In a sturdy blender, two scoops get mixed with ice and milk, and out come creations with names like Extreme Coffee Toffee, Mocha Frappe, Low-Carb Mocha, Espressimo, Wild Tribe Moka and No Sugar Added Vanilla Latte.
Or how about a MooLatte? Just last month, Dairy Queen rolled out its frozen blended coffee drink line in hopes of joining "the multibillion-dollar coffee club" as the company press release put it. The Moolatte can be ordered as a mocha, cappuccino or French vanilla. It's made with DQ soft-serve ice cream, coffee and ice and "crowned with whipped topping."

And the biggies Coca-Cola and McDonald's? No worries -- both are test-marketing their own versions of coldcoffee overseas.
Oh, the French, I can hear them cringing now, since the original iced coffee is said to be a French invention called mazagran, made from cold coffee and seltzer water. Other cultures also claim their cooler versions of java, such as Thai and Vietnamese coffee, made with condensed milk.

There are still purists among us, though. People like Jennifer Rahamut, who works at Allen Ryan Salon, next door to Cold Cream. She said she depends on her afternoon cold coffee pick-me-up and takes it plain -- just dark brew over crackling ice. (Some cafes also make ice cubes out of coffee so when meltdown occurs, the drink gets stronger, not weaker.)

"I love cold coffee as long as it's dark-roast," Rahamut says. "I love the way it tastes here."
Eames uses the cold-coffee process called Toddy coffee, which connoisseurs contend is the only way to brew. One reason: It cuts acid and bitterness by two-thirds. The process uses a pound of beans to 9 cups water. After filtering and steeping overnight, the resulting concentrate is then mixed -- 1 part concentrate to 3 parts water over ice.
But watch out, it could become a bottomless cup.

"Recovering addicts love this stuff," says Doug Bond of coffee made the Toddy coffee way. Co-owner of San Francisco Coffee Co. in the Virginia-Highland and Poncey-Highland neighborhoods, Bond adds: "Former smokers, drinkers, drug users, they drink it by the gallon.




Monday, March 24, 2014

The Exxon Valdez: "Like the albatross on the Ancient Mariner."


THE EXXON VALDEZ SPILL: A DECADE AFTER THE DISASTER

BYLINE: Patricia Guthrie 

DATE: March 21, 1999

PUBLICATION: The Atlanta Journal and The Atlanta Constitution


Valdez, Alaska - Stan Stephens hears the question so often, he keeps the answer in his pocket. It doesn't look like much. Just a tiny piece of crusted black gunk. "Yes, there's
still a lot of oil out there in the sand, under the rocks, along some shoreline," Stephens says, his sea-blue eyes fixed on the horizon. "Prince William Sound is no longer pristine
country. If you never go ashore and just stay on a boat, you'd never know there was an oil spill. But these bays, they used to be so full of life. And they're just not anymore."


Ten years ago on Good Friday, March 24, the rest of the world learned what 64-year-old Stephens had known for decades: Prince William Sound is one of the most beautiful inlets on Earth. 
Or was. 
Surrounded by the Chugach Mountains and Chugach National Forest and chock-full of slowly carved glaciers and fjords, the sound includes 11,000 square miles of shore, islands and open water, an area larger than Vermont.

Seen from the deck of the Glacier Spirit, one of five scenic tour boats of Stan Stephens and ice whites are probably as vivid as they appeared 200 years ago when English explorer Capt. James Cook named it for the British monarch's third son. Harems of Stellar sea lions still lounge on rocks surrounding one lucky male. Porpoises still playfully jump in the wake of sightseeing boats. Bald eagles still glide on grand wings. Cruises, or from the air while "flightseeing," the region's sparkling blues, jade greens.  


But many say there are far fewer birds, fish and marine mammals since the oil tanker Exxon Valdez hit Bligh Reef and oozed 11.3 million gallons of crude oil into the sound, the Gulf of Alaska and hundreds of miles southwest into the Alaska Peninsula. Only two of 23 species -- the bald eagle and river otter -- have fully recovered, says the ExxonValdez Oil Spill Trustee Council, which oversees the $900 million settlement Exxon gave the state and federal governments for Prince William Sound restoration.
"There has clearly been progress toward recovery," says Molly McCammon, the
council's executive director. "But it is equally clear that for several species and the
ecosystem in general, there's a long way yet to go."


Exxon disagrees. After spending $2.2 billion on a four-year cleanup and on animal rescue and rehabilitation ($32,000 per bird; $82,000 per otter), Exxon says no species or natural resource remains adversely affected.
"The environment in Prince William Sound is healthy, robust and thriving," said Frank Sprow, Exxon's vice president for environment and safety. "That's evident to anyone who's been there, and it is also the conclusion of many scientists who have done extensive studies of the Prince William Sound ecosystem."

Exxon disputes the advisory council's definition of a "recovered' species, and how it's measuring these populations. The company also says the council fails to consider "natural variability" such as the regional warming trend attributed to El Nino. "When the water temperature is rising three degrees in the past decade, that causes a dramatic change among the plants and animals," said biologist David Page of Maine's Bowdoin College, an Exxon consultant. Trying to find evidence of the 1989 spill today, Page says, "is like trying to tune in NPR on Mars."

Estimates as to how many animals died in the darkened waters immediately after the spill vary, just as opinions on the long-term impact differ.

Hit hardest were birds. An estimated 260,000 to 580,000 got mired in oil and died, with the common murre and pigeon guillemots most affected. But some bird colonies are coming back.
Sea otters, the big sad-eyed critters that became a symbol of Alaska's helplessness during the crisis, are among the species considered "still recovering," as are many fish, clams, mussels and intertidal ecosystems.  

An estimated 1,000 to 3,000 sea otters died. About 300 harbor seals perished, but the species was already in serious decline. Among Prince William Sound's 100 killer whales, 14 disappeared after the spill.

The culprits were a black steel ship the length of three football fields, along with one bearded skipper seen in Valdez having a few stiff drinks hours before departing. Like some of the animals, they, too, vanished but may be coming back. Exxon wants to bring back its notorious tanker, the Exxon Valdez (named in honor of the
town), which was banned from Alaskan waters under the 1990 Oil Pollution Act. After undergoing extensive repairs and renamed the SeaRiver Mediterranean, the tanker has been in service in the Mediterranean Sea.
Many Alaskans bitterly oppose the move, saying it's akin to flying the Enola Gay over Japan again. Others who know boats say the tanker is one of the safer, better ones built for the Alaska route. "We'd be working against ourselves if we were to say we don't want that ship," Stephens says. "The spill was human error. It wasn't the boat's fault. But if they want local support to bring that ship back, Exxon should take care of the fishermen."
Joseph Hazelwood, the Exxon captain responsible for grinding the 984-foot tanker on the reef, is scheduled to finally begin 1,000 hours of community service this summer by picking up trash in Anchorage. He was acquitted of intoxication charges and second-degree criminal mischief but found guilty of negligence. Fired by Exxon, Hazelwood returned to his New York roots to work as a shipping accident claims adjuster for the Manhattan maritime law firm representing him. He has remained mum on the events of the midnight wreck. In the decade since the disaster, he has given one major interview, to Outside magazine.
"Am I angst-ridden with guilt? No," he said. "Am I feeling responsible as a professional?
Well, whether it's a mechanical failure or anything else that grounds you, it sticks. "I can't imagine this ever being over. It's always there, like the albatross on the Ancient Mariner."

When the tide is out, the table is set.

But now when the tide is out, the table is dirty.


Taking a twist on this old native adage about the abundance of tasty treats found in the receding tide, Patience Anderson Faulkner explains the spill's impact on her culture and
people. Living in Cordova, a fishing village of 2,500 residents with generational ties to salmon and herring livelihoods, Faulkner is a member of the Eyak tribe.

Although oil never licked the shores of Cordova, the town is considered the hardest hit by diminished fishing. State fishing permits, once worth $200,000 to $300,000, have fallen to one-tenth their original price. Youths no longer see a future in this serene village. And families that once walked the beaches at low tide scooping up clams and oysters for dinner now buy grocery store food instead.
"It breaks my heart to see what has happened," says Faulkner, 51. "I see the resentment every day in people's faces. We had the largest fishing fleet in the sound.
Kids would earn their college tuition in one fishing season. Now even the older
gentlemen are not even able to make a living." Some of that is due to disease that has decimated herring; some is due to the falling
price of salmon.
A long-term study by J. Steven Picou, a University of South Alabama sociologist, found the psychological stress of area natives and commercial fishermen to be similar to that of rape victims and those in bereavement.
David Grimes, a 46-year-old Cordova fisherman and wilderness guide, said it took
several years to see the impact. Herring first crashed in 1993 when the adult herring in the sound failed to reproduce. The ones that were caught had mutations.
"It just shatters you to the core," Grimes says. "It must be like when Atlanta burned
down. It's like going through the ashes here when we see oil still welling up."
But the fish populations are coming back, and Grimes has hope. "Time and Mother
Nature do the healing," he says.
Commercial fishing operators and native corporations are among the major plaintiffs
that sued Exxon. In 1994, an Anchorage jury awarded $5 billion in punitive damages, the equivalent of Exxon's after-tax income that year.
Calling it "unjust and excessive," Exxon appealed the decision to the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals, where the case is pending. The company already has paid $300 million to 11,000 area people and businesses, more than one-third to Cordovans.
But people here remember the company's promise when it flew in executives 10 years ago after the disaster. John Devens, who was mayor of Valdez at the time, recalls the company's vow: "We will have all your beaches cleaned and we will resolve every financial claim."

Devens, a former Atlantan, says Exxon reneged on that promise, and it doesn't surprise him. "There was an arrogance that permeated the spill that came from Exxon officials," he says. "And they're still arrogant."
Devens is executive director of the Prince William Sound Regional Citizens' Advisory Council, created in 1990 as an oil industry watchdog group. It's funded by Alyeska Pipeline Service Co., a consortium of seven oil companies, including Exxon. Alyeska also operates what's considered the world's safest oil tanker system. The Ship Escort/Response Vessel System costs $60 million annually, with 250 employees who work around the clock, escorting tankers in tugboats and equipped with a spill response vessel. Seven skimmer barges and miles of containment boom are on call. 

Since the spill, the U.S. Coast Guard has received better radar tracking equipment, and oil tanker captains now are tested for alcohol.

"Prevention is the center of our focus," said escort/response system engineer Pete
Chapman. "No one can guarantee that there'll never be another oil spill, but at least we now have more devices to suck, skim, mop, contain and corral it."
If other good has arisen from the muck, it includes new standards and more wilderness land and tourism.
The spill set a "polluter pays" precedent that led Congress to enact tougher oil spill
liability and to provide further protection by requiring double-hulled oil tankers by 2015. The $900 million Exxon settlement led to 655,000 additional acres of protected wilderness in the region. The recently opened Alaska SeaLife Center in Seward, west of Valdez, was funded in part with $26 million from the Exxon settlement. Part aquarium, part research facility, the center is equipped to handle injured or oiled marine mammals.
And, in an odd twist, visits to Prince William Sound have soared since 1991. Meanwhile, sports outlets keep popping up, attracting "extreme" skiers, sea kayakers, dog mushers and ice climbers. 

A plump otter passes the day on its back, clam in paw, circling the Arco tanker as the ship fills with black gold. 

It seems odd as these two symbols of one of the world's most notorious man-made environmental disasters freely share space.
But such is the dual Last Frontier/Big Oil personality of Alaska. Like an arranged marriage, it must work. No town knows this better than Valdez, where people either operate their own business-- with a natural resource or tourism bent -- or work for "Uncle Al," the nickname for Alyeska. The oil consortium, housed on a hill overlooking Valdez, employs about one fourth of the 4,000 residents. Its concrete complex is ground zero for an engineering marvel: the Trans-Alaska Pipeline, which took 70,000 workers, $8 billion and three years to construct. Oil began flowing in 1977 and since then has accounted for 20 percent of the nation's oil supply.

Snaking 800 miles down from the North Slope's Prudhoe Bay in the Arctic, about 1.2 million barrels of oil daily make the trip. About $2 billion a year, or 85 percent of Alaska's revenue, is generated from taxes and royalties on oil.
When oil prices drop globally, Alaska feels it. In Valdez, the oil terminal's property taxes make up 92 percent of the town's tax base. But many folks around here can't separate the rich oil business from what it wrought a decade ago: the nation's largest oil spill.

"I wish the oil pipeline never came to Valdez," Stephens says, checking the lines on Glacier Spirit as he ties it up for the night. "The worst mistake we ever made was jeopardizing the bay."


copyright 1999 The Atlanta Journal-Constitution



Monday, February 24, 2014

Winter Olympics: Sochi 2014 v. Lake Placid 1980


By Patricia Guthrie

Imagine an Olympics without cell phones or personal computers of any type:  No desktops, laptops, iPads, iPhones, smart phones, androids, apps, blogs or videos gone viral.  No digital, no links, no "likes," no nightly social media "report." Cameras needed film, telephones needed cords, and journalists tapped out stories on typewriters.
Ancient history, right? 

That's what I feel watching any Olympics that comes around these days, summer or winter. I can't help but compare the host cities, the facilities, the expense, the growing number of sports and events and number of participants to my time at what had to be the last of the simple Olympics — the 1980 Lake Placid Winter Olympics. I took a semester off from college at the University of Buffalo (N.Y.) and signed up as a volunteer with the International Olympic Organizing Committee, specifically to assist the media as I was considering journalism as a career. If you want to learn more about prehistoric pre-digital pre-computer pre-Internet Olympics, check out by other Olympic posts.
Lake Placid cost $363 million to stage; 
Sochi cost $51 billion. The number of events and number of nations more than doubled and the number of athletes nearly tripled.
Here's what else has changed over 34 years:

1980 LAKE PLACID WINTER OLYMPICS
Xlll Winter Olympiad
Host Country: United States of America
Population of Host city: 2,500
37 Nations
1,081 athletes 
10 Sports
Alpine Skiing, Biathlon, Bobsleigh, Cross Country Skiing, Figure Skating, Ice Hockey, Luge, Nordic Combined, Ski Jumping, Speed Skating
38 events
6,700 volunteers
4,000 accredited media
Television rights: ABC paid $15.5 million
Security personnel: Not many

TOTAL COST: $363 million


XXII Winter Olympiad
Feb. 5, 2014 to Feb. 23, 2014 (17 days of competition)
Host Country: Russia
Population of Host City: 343,000
88 Nations
2,8871 athletes
15 sports
Alpine Skiing, Biathlon, Bobsleigh, Cross-Country skiing, Figure Skating, Ice Hockey, Luge, Nordic Combined, Ski Jumping, Speed Skating, Short Track, Curling, Freestyle Skiing, Snowboard, Skeleton
Debut competitions: 12, including women’s ski jump, team event figure skating, slope style skiing and snowboarding
98 events
25,000 volunteers
13,477 accredited media
Television rights: NBC paid $775 million
Security personnel: Between 37,000 to 100,000

TOTAL COST: $51 billion

Photo Credit: Rob Schumacher/(USA TODAY Sports Images)Competitors ski past Olympic rings at Sochi's Laura Cross-Country Ski and Biathlon Center during the men's team sprint classic semifinal.







Mascots
Lake Placid: Roni and Ronny Raccoon
Sochi: The Polar Bear, The Leopard, The Hare
Songs/Mottos
Ronny Raccoon
Lake Placid: Chuck Mangione’s “Give it All You Got”
Sochi: Hot. Cool. Yours.

Venue Firsts:
Lake Placid: First time artificial snow used at Winter Olympics
Sochi: First sub-tropical city selected for Winter Olympics

Venue Snafus:
Lake Placid: Buses failed to get spectators to events on time, small town barely holds all the athletes, spectators, officials and media
Sochi: Outdoor venue meltdown from above-freezing temperatures, roaming dogs, unfinished construction, bad water and confusing hotel toilets

One athlete, many medals
Lake Placid: U.S. speed skater Eric Heiden wins five gold medals in all five long track distances. His medals comprise 83 percent of USA’s total gold medal count. His feat has yet to be repeated.
Sochi: Russian speed skater Viktor Ahn wins three gold medals and one bronze in short-track distances, the same medals he won in 2006 as a South Korean skater. Ahn decided to move to Russia in 2011 in search of better coaching and support.

Lake Placid: Hanni Wenzel of Liechtenstein wins the women's giant slalom and slalom. Sweden's Ingemar Stenmark wins the men’s giant slalom and slalom.
Sochi: American-born Vic Wild wins two gold medals  in snowboarding slalom and giant slalom for Russia, where he moved for better support and training.
Lake Placid:  Nikolay Zimyatov of the USSR earns three gold medals in cross-country skiing. Anatoly Alyabyev of the USSR wins two gold medals and a bronze in biathlon.
Sochi: Darya Domracheva of Belarus wins three gold medals in biathlon events, winning more medals than her nation had won in total at the five previous Winter Olympics.


Ice Hockey High Drama
Miracle on Ice: U.S. men’s ice hockey team beats U.S.S.R. 4-3,  breaking the Soviet long hold on hockey gold. The Americans, comprised mostly of collegiate players, go on to beat Finland to win the gold medal. For play-by-play action.

Four Times the Charm: Canada’s women’s ice hockey team defeats the American team for the fourth time in Olympics gold medal competition. Losing 2-0 with less than four minutes to play, Canada tied the game and then scored another goal on a power play in overtime.

1980 LAKE PLACID MEDAL COUNT
East Germany: 23 total, 9 gold                                       
The Polar Bear, The Leopard, The Hare
USSR: 22 total, 10 gold
USA: 12 total, 6 gold

2014 SOCHI MEDAL COUNT
Russia: 33 total, 13 gold
USA: 28 total, 9 gold
Norway: 26 total, 11 gold





Saturday, February 22, 2014

Published: The Amherst Bee (N.Y.) Feb. 1980

Tubas, trombones replace teletype at Olympics

(Author Patricia Guthrie is a Williamsville South High graduate serving as a press steward at the 1980 Winter Olympics)

The XIII Olympic Winter Games at Lake Placid have faded into a memory. For those who were there, the games offered a mixed bag of memories - ranging from dreams to nightmares from which to choose. 


Some observers like the cynical press, chose to
reminisce most on the nightmares; reporting
relentlessly on the snared bus shuttle and inflated
food and ticket prices while cracking jokes about the
Lake Placid Olympic "Unorganized" Committee.
But there were others like I, too enthralled in
witnessing the Olympic dream unfold before us, to
take heed in issues that might be scarring the
spectacle of such a magnificent athletic show.
For this was the Olympics - a once in a lifetime
experience to absorb. And because these Games and
myself would pass this way but once, the only
memories that remain are of the gold, the glory and
the splendor of it all. For myself, emotions ran high
during those 10 days that ended all too soon, but my
deepest feelings occurred Sunday evening at the
Games' closing ceremonies.

Lake Placid will always be known for The "Miracle on Ice" 


It was there in the darkened arena after watching
the athletes' final parade and upon hearing Lord
Killanin deciare the Games over when I realized the
Olympics truly were over. Tears welled in my eyes
and a seldom felt lump caught in my throat. When
you see your dream come true, it is tough enough to
believe it is actually happening. Yet it is tougher still
to accept the dream has to end and become no more
than a memory.




However, being, the stubborn dreamer that I am, I thought I would remain around Lake Placid after the Games ended to catch the afterglow. But I
discovered that there is no afterglow at the Olympics. The spark of the Winter Games in Lake Placid sizzled out and died Sunday night with the last firework in the sky. 

By Monday afternoon an overwhelming air of silence pervaded the tiny village. Scalpers were no longer heard screaming their ticket events and prices. The once constant hawking cry, "get your official Olympic" something from scarves to hockey pucks was now only a ghostly echo. Throngs of flag waving Americans 
no Ionger lined Arena Drive, the road outside the
Olympic Fieldhouse where they had wildly cheered
on the golden ascent of the U.S. hockey team. All
that was left to recall what happened only the day
before were remnants of excessive partying, cigars
cans and wine bottles left behind in the dirt brown
snow. Across from the Fieldhouse at the speed
skating oval, Zamboni machines lie silent as they
provided the lone audience for a solitary skater
tracing the golden tracks of Eric Heiden.
Two-way automobile traffic resumed early Monday
morning on the Main Street of the small hamlet.
No longer was the one traffic light town a pedestrian
showcase of all the world's athletes and spectators
milling around to window shop and trade pins. The
lumbering rattle of semi trucks rolling into dismantle
the Main Press Center replaced the drone and
exhaust of hundreds of buses.


Amherst's Bernard Kapuza, communications
coordinator at the Olympics, played pressure hockey for 10 days as he converted the high school into the Main Press Center. Two years of planning went into the creation of the press headquarters. Kapuza and
his crew had five days to return to its scholastic
status. After that, his job requires him to remain in
Lake Placid until April. Then he plans to take a long
and well-deserved vacation. By now the 500 students
at Lake Placid High School have returned to
their desks and are probably gazing at the speed
skating oval and arena below, Iost in their own sea
of memories.

Double scotches and Kirin beer are no longer served in Mrs. Whalley's drab third floor Home Economics room. Once transformed into a spacious flamboyant cocktail lounge complete with four televisions and a seven foot screen, it served as the press center's favorite retreat for "the working journalists.” Bunsen burners are now lit in the science room, converted back from the Kodak darkroom. 

Tubas and trombones have replaced the teletype and television sets in the music room, once Rueters'News wire Service room. Mrs. Danussi's English class has resumed studies in room J3, once labeled Tass, the Soviet press agency. Typewriters no longer clatter in "the pit," - the term affectionately applied by the press to the gym, used as the main newsroom where international journalists once hunted and pecked side by side.
The high school's auditorium will never again be
witness to the excitement it encountered during the Olympics. Never will a school play or a concert equal the drama and poignancy that unfolded in its walls
when it was used as the press conference room. Its stage was the sight of Beth Heiden's tears, her brother's sheepish grin and the platform for a bunch of exuberant, joking golden boys known as the U.S. hockey team.

But the press has deserted its headquarters, as the
athletes have abandoned their village. Life goes on
for both the competitors and reporters; the Olympics
being only another event to compete in or to cover.
If the Lake Placid Games mark the end of the Olympics as we know them, perhaps it is a fitting ending. The story of the hosts of these Winter Games is a story filled with as much determination and guts as the athletes who competed there. And in the end, they both competed successfully. There were mistakes, heartbreaking moments, gold medals won by a record one one-hundredth of a second and athletic performances unparalleled in sports for their drama and excellence.

But now it is all over. It is time to return home,
enter reality and leave the two-week fantasy behind.
Amherstonians returning home-include Edward
Rath, who served as a press coordinator for the luge
and bobsled, and Miss Louise Abbott, who worked at
the men's start of the luge run as a track steward.
Both expressed sorrow at having to see the games
end and leave new friends behind, but were thankful
to have witnessed and participated at the Olympics.
"I just had the greatest time," said Miss Abbott. "I
felt like I had gone to Europe just being there, since
hardly anyone I worked with spoke English."
Rath summed up the Olympic sentiment best. "It
was one of the most thrilling experiences of my life,”
he said. "Sure, it was sad to see it all end, but it left
you with a bank of memories that you will always be
able to reach back on."
You can bet there will be a lot of dreamers
reaching back for a long time to come.