Living in downtown Vancouver, the anticipation of the Olympics was incredibly palpable, knowing that thousands and thousands of people were arriving, and the rest of the world would be watching.
Since receiving the ok to host the Olympics, Vancouver has been in immediate action, spending billions of dollars building new sites, transportation options, and renovating city streets, which have all been in continual upheaval up to the very last moment and into the opening ceremonies. That the final run included the dodging of protesters aiming to extinguish the flame was no accident, because life is full of such people, but Canada’s sports hero arrived at the cauldron, and the Olympic cauldron was lit, finalizing our preparations, propelling us forward into the games.
A burning fire in the midst of darkness and upheaval, at that moment I felt it represented hope, triumph to the indomitable victor, and a call for the best of the human spirit to come forward – in many respects, it burns for us all. The following day, my partner and I took a proud stroll along the Vancouver waterfront with my son to enjoy the view of the magnificent cauldron under sunny skies, but when we approached the cauldron we were struck with disbelief and tremendous sadness to see cement barriers and a tall chain link fence surrounding the cauldron and keeping the public nearly a hundred feet away.
Being held back by the fence was an awakening, one of those moments where your past, present, and future collide, because the old grey fence holding us back from approaching the beautiful new and vibrant burning cauldron was a moment of regret, and a reminder of my youthful dreams that are now forever out of reach.
I recalled my memories as a youth, growing up in San Diego, watching the Olympics on television and dreaming of being one of those guys on a bob sled swooshing through the ice rollercoaster, or leaping off the mountain side ramp into the sky blue and landing tenderly on white cheering snow. I imagined that no one could hold me back; no one could hold back my dreams. Since then, I became stronger, more agile and more involved in wrestling and football, but no sports that ever introduced me to the snow. Then came graduation, work, relationships, a son, and grey hair.
Yes, that moment behind the fence was a reminder of lost opportunities, a forever fleeting youth, as well a reminder that the future may be uncertain but what is certain is the present now. Now is the time to pass the torch of dreams to my son, and I’ll be the barrier, the chain link fence, that holds back the protesters and keeps his world intact as he develops into a young man with is own burning cauldron of dreams.
The end of the Olympics is soon approaching. Olympians are called daily to perform at their best, on the spot, in the now, and all of this will be over by next week.
So here am I, with my son, and my moment to present my best to him is now. I don’t know if he’ll be a future Olympian, but I just signed him up today for ice skating lessons. He’d prefer speed skates (and, secretly, so would I), but he’ll still be happy for simply being given the opportunity, the experience. Our anticipation for the first lesson begins, and our schedules will be in a bit of an upheaval, yet we’re excited and proud. There won’t be thousands of people at this event, or people telling him ‘no,’ but there will be me and my partner that will show up and cheer him on.
Looking at his indomitable smile, you’d think he’s won gold already, and in many respects he has.
