I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. As the media, both social and what passes for news these days, bombard us endlessly with both the worst of humanity and latest attention-grabbing but not-worth-your-energy political tidbits, it’s getting harder and harder not to turn to internet cat videos or daydream of becoming Grizzly Adams just to stay sane.

So let’s watch the Olympics instead. Just for a moment. Let’s take a look at something that while yes, is fraught with many, many issues of its own, at its heart is a pretty amazing coming together of humanity, if only for a couple of weeks every few years.

Doping scandals, commercialization, corruption, economic destruction of host cities and safety concerns have you cynical? Disillusioned? They certainly dampened my enthusiasm over the years, and it finally got to the point where I decided that I wouldn’t watch this year, even though I have a long history of being a fan — and an optimist. Negativity had won.

But I have been watching Olympic games since I was 3 years old. And much of my knowledge of historical events and cultural movements has been bookmarked in my memories by them. I actually have memories of watching Jean-Claude Killy skiing in Grenoble in 1968; I remember Mark Spitz’ incredible performance in Munich, as well as the horror of the massacre of Israeli team members; I saw Nadia Comaneci achieve what was thought to have been impossible, a perfect score in gymnastics — and then do it six more times the same games; I remember the boycotted years; the “Miracle of 1980” hockey team; copying Dorothy Hamill’s haircut; the first year that the games recognized Palestine as a nation; the year that North and South Korea marched in the opening ceremonies under one flag … and so much more. And it’s those memories, those moments, those pieces of history, the good and the bad, that the games are really about — and that I finally realized myself when I reluctantly sat down to watch last weekend. And am glad I did.

Watch with your kids, if you have them. Teach them history through the games, let them ask questions about cultures and countries, throw interesting trivia at them about sports, faith and politics. Look at past host cities like Sarajevo and what has transpired in that area of the world since. Be shocked, be inspired, be excited, disappointed, sad, hopeful and thoughtful about what you witness or discover. There are many lessons to be learned at the games, for those interested in more than the medal counts.

My husband has been to an Olympics. Not as a fan, but as performance director for Irish Rowing in Athens in 2004, and some of his most significant memories are of the interactions he was able to have with the athletes during their downtime in the village. From being welcomed by those at the Iraq house for a visit, to having decidedly “normal,” everyday conversations with gold medalists who happened to sit next to him at meals, to athletes all over the village literally trading the shirts of their countries off their backs for those of others. Like kids at camp with friendship bracelets. The camaraderie and genuineness of, and between, the competitors left a significant and lasting impression on him. I think of this now when I watch.

The games are like snapshots of history, both reflecting it as well as making it. The Munich massacre, the Black Power salute for civil rights by U.S. athletes in Mexico City in 1968 and the more recent participation of female athletes from Qatar, Brunei and Saudi Arabia in 2012, are all reflections of our times.

This year is no exception as there are refugees competing as an official team of their own. These athletes have no country to compete for, yet they are there, still fighting for their chance to show the world what they can do and what they’ve worked so hard for.

It is, after all, about the athletes. People, just like the rest of us but also not at all. Human beings are capable of some truly incredible, surprising and breathtaking things when they’re not being horrible to each other.

Watch the games, even just a little, if for no other reason than that.

— Sarah Low is a Beachcomber staff writer.