Then There Was That Time That I Opened the Winter Olympics

There are times that you are exposed to something so out of the ordinary that it stays with you for a long time. For some of us, it is more than others. One such time was when I was invited to open the Winter Olympics in Long River, PEI.

Now why in the name of God would such a thing happen to a gal from Newfoundland? I still ask myself that same question and I’m not sure I’ve ever gleaned an answer that fits the honour that was bestowed by that action. It lines up with the time I welcomed Pope John Paul to Canada and when I met Danny Romalotti (not many will remember him), the latter probably coming in third.

It all kind of happened in a non-descript; perhaps in a yeah, whatever, kind of way. The Olympics were being planned, I told my great friend Carla that I just might go, never thinking I would, and she kinda said, well why don’t you come to open them. And that’s where it sat until the stars aligned and I was on PEI the last week before the country shut down in March 2020. Coincidentally, that was the weekend of the Olympics.

Now the Olympics weren’t the only gig in town. There was competition with saving crows but that’s a tale for another time because it's something that is near and dear to Carla’s heart, however, I digress.

The Olympic Committee, the drivers Alain, Marlene, and Brian, were hard at work but, like any idea, it is only as good as the leaders' commitment and the community behind them.

Although I’m usually in the thick of things, for this event, I basically just had to show up. By the time I had gotten there all the prep work had been done on the river ice, all the games had been outfitted, even down to the ax-throwing stations. It was quite the scene.

One game I couldn’t pronounce nor had ever played involved throwing stones across the ice to take each other’s out of a big ring (no it wasn’t curling), because, plus there was curling – real curling rocks and all. In another place, bowling was set up with frozen two-litres Pepsi bottles, and there was mini golf, nine holes! The ax-throwing was impressive, full-size boards, beautifully done, and just amazing.

None of this getting ready was done in a day, as you could imagine. Months of planning went into it. Invitations, teams, etc. Ice needed measuring for safety, tractors had to keep the ice clear, lines had to be drawn, the area had to be set up and safe. Then there was the praying for good weather. Nobody was disappointed. Hundreds showed up, adults, kids, dogs.

The mascot was a cheezy Christmas Snowman aboard a punt with a ragged and tatter sail sitting proudly out on the ice, and for good measure, there was a cauldron that would burn all during the day. That was my job, light the fire and declare the Olympics open.

This came with some pageantry of course. Once the crowd had gathered I took the torch and marched behind the bugle player to the readied cauldron and lit ‘er up. Cheers erupted and the games began.

Once the play was underway and the competition got heated, so did the BBQ, hotdogs and hot chocolate. The Olympic Committee oversaw the happenings of the day and it went off without a hitch. Points were awarded based on scores in the games and a winner, complete with gold, silver, and bronze medals were declared.

What a day. I’m not sure I’ve heard such laughter and good-naturedness in one place at minus four or five degrees for a long time. Once the events were finished, the crowd helped put things away and dispersed. More than my day was made that cold winter’s day.

The river blew in with snow over the next few days before the last remnants of the games disappeared in the spring thaw a few weeks later. All physical signs of the Long River Winter Olympics vanished with the exception of the ax-throwing board which lay in wait for the next event.

This, of course, is not a story of the Winter Olympics, it is a story of community. Where you live is where you live – eat, sleep, nowadays probably work; but, when you live in a vibrant community, that is where you really live. That is where you make memories. I can promise you, that I have memories of feeling special and proud to be part of something so simple yet so complex. It was a wonderful day, I had to do nothing only show up. Kudos to the folks in Long River who have many traditions put on hold until this pandemic is all over. Thanks for allowing me in to this wonderful community. Thanks for reminding me we all need to live a little bit on the “hell let’s just do it” side of life.

Here's to never losing this attitude and encouraging and supporting it in our own communities. 

Thanks for reading.