The Heart of the Olympics
By Paul Thomas

If it is possible to have your heart broken and fixed at the same time; mine has been. At first, it is easy to be overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of it all — nearly 4,000 handicapped athletes in a relatively small area around the track and field complex. These special athletes run the spectrum from the multi-handicapped, wheelchair bound, to others who you might not guess had a handicap at all. But then you also begin to notice the helpers — the family members, friends and volunteers who are there to make this day special for these very special people. These helpers are my new heroes (the athletes have always been).

You may have figured out by now that I am talking about the Special Olympics. The Oklahoma State Games were held in Stillwater, on the OSU campus in the spring. Even though my wife Julie and I have been to the Special Olympics Oklahoma State Games in Stillwater five times with our son, Matt, we are always moved by the poignant victories that these special athletes and their support teams share during this three-day event. We watched a young man from Guthrie sizing up his competition before the 50-meter dash by asking each of his competitors if they were really fast runners.

He ended up being a really fast runner himself and won a gold medal and a brief place in the sun. On the winner’s podium, his face lit up when the announcer called his name as the gold medal winner. My son’s shining moment came when he was able to coerce the willing crowd around the awards staging area into giving him a three-part, hip-hip-hooray cheer as he raised his arms to join the raised voices in celebration of his bronze medal in the same event.

Near the end of the rather long day, one of the volunteers — who I guess was a college-aged young woman — asked me how my day was going. I responded that it was going fine and politely asked about her day. She said, “I have had the greatest day. I just love being with all these kids!” This after being there from 7:30 a.m. to about 3:30 p.m. and dealing with everything from big tears to big impromptu bear hugs. I thought to myself — you know, this young lady and the other roughly 2,500 volunteers could most certainly be doing something else this day, but here they are… in the midst of this wonderful chaos… giving away their day to make someone else’s special.

As we walked around, we became very aware that at this event these kids don’t draw strange looks or under-the-breath comments (that are loud enough for everyone to hear) by passersby who draw conclusions without really understanding the facts. Here, the facts don’t seem to matter much. They are fairly obvious, but not the point of focus. We noticed that most everyone displayed unusual acceptance and accommodation — not criticism. These few days are about making the athletes’ experience positive and memorable, even so — it spills over on the rest of us.

Our son Matt is 13 years old and is autistic. I often think about what Matt’s life holds for him in the future. If I dwell on the potential heartbreak of this thought, I could be sad for long stretches of time. While in Stillwater, I had some of the same thoughts about the 4,000 athletes who were there. Will these few days be their only days in the sun? Will these few days of joy and acceptance be the exception rather than the rule in their lives? The heart-fixing part of this story comes when I consider what the volunteers and community interaction with these athletes will likely produce for the good. Without exception, each volunteer I thanked for giving their precious time to these kids stopped me short to say that they were the ones who had been enriched by a day with these special people. Many said that they thought at first that they were supposed to be the givers, but soon learned that they were the receivers in the big-picture blessing equation.

And so. . .a heart broken and fixed at the same time — pretty special.

Paul Thomas is a trial attorney with the Office of the United States Trustee in Tulsa