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Tommy Camp Columnist

Published Saturday, August 02, 2008

Remembering a different kind of Summer Games

When I was in high school my uncle Mortimer had this great idea.

"Let's have a family Olympics," he suggested to my mother one night over the phone.

The 1960 Olympics were just beginning and he was inspired to stage our family's version of the Games right there in his pasture in Carroll County.

"We can get together and have three-legged races and rock tosses and watermelon seed spitting contests and Grace...could you bring some fried chicken?"

It sounded great to me, but Mama wasn't so sure.

"I can just see Aunt Martha and Uncle Elijah in a three-legged race," she said, shaking her head.

"Mama," I said, "they're 90 years old. They aren't going to race, but I'll bet they'll be there to watch."

And they were along with about 100 other relatives who showed up on that beautiful Saturday afternoon to compete and cheer and eat and gossip at the very first, but sadly the very last, Black (my mother's maiden name) Family Olympiad.

They came in all their differing shapes and sizes, in all their common-law-to-preacher-married stages of familial relationships, ranging in age from babes in arms to old pros in retirement and dressed in raiment representing every color of the rainbow and all the varied hues in between.

I wouldn't say we represented the latest in athletic attire, but each competitor came garmented in what each believed would provide the best chance for success.

Harry, my first cousin twice removed, wore his lucky high-top black tennis shoes, the very ones he wore when he scored four points for the Bowdon High School basketball team in its big win over archrival Bremen back in the winter.

Uncle Poochie came in his brogans, the very ones he wore to the cotton mill every day where he loaded huge boxes of yarn onto the backs of trucks, believing they would provide him the traction needed to pick up the gold in the concrete blockput.

Polly, my second cousin several times removed who was a student at the Women's College over in Milledgeville, came prepared to do battle in the most wondrous pair of shorts I had ever seen on a girl, especially on one whose mama and daddy were around.

Uncle Mortimer had his pasture in pristine condition, at least after we all chipped in and removed the souvenirs his 37 cows had left as welcoming gifts for the competitors.

He also had each event precisely scheduled with an awards ceremony afterwards where he presented the gold, silver and bronze "medals" he and Aunt Gladys had labored for weeks to produce.

Oh, it was great.

I didn't win a single gold medal, but took the silver in the down-the-pasture-and-around-the-tree dash in the Legitimate Children Under-18 Division and the bronze in the burping-the-song-of-your-choice Open Division competition.

I personally felt my rendition of "Stars and Stripes Forever" was easily the best of the lot, but the judges, demonstrating a marked partiality toward the Country and Gospel genres, chose Uncle Morris' "Will the Circle Be Unbroken" and Aunt Jane's "Your Cheatin' Heart" superior to my more patriotic selection.

I was frankly amazed at the talent on display.

I never figured cousin Swartz could run like the wind since I had never seen him do much more than consume huge platefuls of food at family reunions and then do other things with the wind.

I never figured my 65-year-old Uncle Herman could skip rocks over the pond, making them bounce nine or 10 times before sinking in each of his three tosses to win the gold and the plaudits and huzzahs of the huge crowd watching along with the juiciest kiss I'd ever seen outside the Alamo Theater from his brand new 19-year-old bride Amelia.

And I never figured my Aunt Rose would win the musical chairs Over-60 competition, but she did with a last-second hip-swaying move that bounced Uncle Newell away just as he was about to make his gold medal sit.

It was a great day, one for the ages and we went home happy.

We had competed in the Olympics, even if it was in a cow pasture out in the middle of nowhere.