Not long ago, researchers from Switzerland surveyed tens of millions of people on what they considered the New Seven Wonders of The World.
After all the votes where counted, only The Colosseum (Italy), Machu Picchu (Peru), Chichen Itza (Mexico), Christ The Redeemer (Brazil), Petra (Jordan), Taj Mahal (India), and The Great Wall (China) were left standing. As the only survivor of the “Seven Wonders of the Ancient World,” the Pyramids of Giza (Egypt) were granted honorary status.
Because I like lists, glowing recommendations from large samples, and travel, I’d like to visit all someday. So far, I’ve experienced Machu Picchu and The Colosseum and think they exceed expectations. My friend James has visited six of eight and dubs Machu Picchu his favorite.
Readers—have you visited any of the seven wonders? Have a favorite? Where would you start?
For example, his recent profile on Michael Jordan turning 50 goes to a place few sportswriters go: Deep thoughts.
Aging means losing things, and not just eyesight and flexibility. It means watching the accomplishments of your youth be diminished, maybe in your own eyes through perspective, maybe in the eyes of others through cultural amnesia. Most people live anonymous lives, and when they grow old and die, any record of their existence is blown away. They’re forgotten, some more slowly than others, but eventually it happens to virtually everyone. Yet for the few people in each generation who reach the very pinnacle of fame and achievement, a mirage flickers: immortality. They come to believe in it. Even after Jordan is gone, he knows people will remember him. Here lies the greatest basketball player of all time. That’s his epitaph. When he walked off the court for the last time, he must have believed that nothing could ever diminish what he’d done. That knowledge would be his shield against aging.
Beautiful. More here.
I owned my fair share of Air Jordans growing up. But as a jack of all trades, I always had a soft spot for Bo Jackson, his amazing talent, and his cross training shoes. In fact, I probably owned more Bo Jacksons than Air Jordans. I certainly drew more cross trainers than basketball shoes.
Unfortunately, Bo Jackson was only superhuman for four years until he suffered a hip injury. But for those four years, he was arguably bigger than even Jordan, as this wonderful profile of him suggests. Bo, it turns out, really did know.