Chistopher Robin and I went to friends’s house last night to watch the Survivor finale. Our host provided Jungle Juice and smoked meats and piles of rice (he’s a fantastic cook and I admit I pigged out). All night I was chanting under my breath, Ozzy, Ozzy, Ozzy. When the votes were read, the other three cheered. I was very bummed.
Watching the news this morning with Yul and Ozzy, again I felt bummed out. Yul is a good guy, no question. Played the game brilliantly. He’s easy on the eyes (but has there ever been a cast as lovely as this one?). He’s obviously a very smart guy.
But I was in Ozzy’s corner from the early days. That tumble of hair. The gazelle-dolphin-bird-cat grace of him. His straightforward–and yes, honorable–playing. The food he provided–c’mon, has any group, ever, eaten as well as this one? His kind heart, his adventurous spirit. I haven’t been so invested in a Survivor winning since Ethan. He’s just good. When he became so emotional about the last sunrise on the island, and gave his speech about how much he loved being out there (it was so appealing to hear his favorite book was Robinson Crusoe!) it just got me. I hope he’ll find a way to live the dream. Lead adventure tours or something.
As the mother I am, I can see it might be better for a laid-back, starry-eyed, idealistic youth of 25 to not win a million dollars. I can see that the attention he receives this way will probably give him hundreds of opportunities to find the best life. I see why so many wanted Yul to win.
But I would reward fairness–and Ozzy gave us that. He is fair of face and fair of heart, a young prince. May he find his kingdom.
Great season, all in all. Surprisingly good.
Did you watch? What did you think?