My Olympic Adventure Ends

The “Day” finally arrived. I was to be in position on East Maiden Street about a half-mile east of South Main Street. I would be running westward. I was in my uniform and holding my torch, ready for the runner coming at me. I don’t remember much about the runner except it was a “he”. When he approached me, I noticed he was jogging slowly, more slowly than I had anticipated we would be going. But there was a very good reason for this. Too fast and the flame could go out. It was a butane lit device nestled in the top of the torch, but a strong breeze or wind could very possibly blow the flame out.

            As the runner came up to me, he stopped and leaned his torch towards mine. I did the same. His flame lit mine. This was a magical moment for me. I was holding the flame that began on Mt. Olympus a few months ago! (I guess I forgot to mention that the torch was not past, just the flame. We got to keep our individual torches!)

            Once lit, I began my run – or jog. I ran past my college old biology and English buildings. I ran until the Maiden Street – Main Street intersection. I stopped kitty-corner from the old drug store that I learned about JFK’s assassination 21 years earlier. I transferred the flame to the next runner, again I can’t remember him or her. My two grandmothers were there as well as Mom and other family. Except for Pop. I had to go show him the torch and tell him all about it at the hospital.

            You ask, “How did you get your picture in the leading Pittsburgh newspaper?” Simple – my mother picked up a young man with a bunch of cameras slung over his neck on her way to the torch relay. When he told her who he was and what he was going to do – ride the Press Truck just ahead of the runner – Mom told him I was one of the torchbearers. He took a few notes, then told her if he got a good picture that he would send it to her. Little did anyone know that I would get my 15 minutes of fame from it!

            I don’t remember how I got to the airport the next day. Truthfully, if this was a memoir, I could make something up, but I really can’t remember. Anyhow, when I checked in I only had a checked bag, a backpack, and my torch which was in a very nice soft, zippered bag. When they said I would have to check it, I told them “No!”. I knew I would never see it again. We compromised. I took out the wick and butane container from the base. They let me take it into the cabin. I kept it next to me all the way home.

            When I got home, I was still not done. During the few days and weeks, I went around to the schools and various organizations that contributed to my run to show them the torch and tell them the story. The students all wanted to touch the torch, and truthfully, many of the adults did as well. It took me some time to fully digest everything that happened to me.

            Epilogue: Sometime later, Pop gave me a glass case that he had made for the torch. He made it from cherry wood. From cherry wood from the cherry tree that grew in our backyard when I was growing up. I climbed that tree all the time, eating cherries, and thinking of all the great things I was going to accomplish when I grew up.