The Decay Of The Olympic Torch

When I was a kid, I got to see a runner carrying the olympic torch. We had to get our parents' permission, because it meant leaving school grounds and walking 2 blocks through a crummy neighborhood in order to see a bit of flame for a few seconds. Mom got all excited when I brought the permission form home. She had to tell me all about the history of the carrying of the torch, where it had been, where it was going, and how fortunate out city was to have the flame pass through. My teacher had already covered this, of course.
I was in the 7th grade at the time, and thought that standing on the sidewalk was better than sitting at a desk any day. That was about the extent of my interest.

So the big day came, and after lunch we hiked off to watch the torch go by. Interestingly enough; while my teacher and my mom both thought this was a big deal, they were in the minority. My class was one of the 3 that even bothered to watch.
There were a scattering of people waiting with us. Most had brought lawn chairs. After about 5 minutes of standing there, I started wishing that I had brought a lawn chair too. It was boring, standing around in the hot sun. This was before St. Louis got serious with it's tree-planting program. There was no shade, and nothing to look at beyond a few run-down apartment buildings.
I started thinking about the history class I was missing. My desk was looking better and better to me.

The people around me became restless. Word began to spread... the torch was coming. "Finally!" I thought.
I has assumed that all torch bearers were olympic caliber runners, and I couldn't figure out what was taking so long. I mean, olpmpic sprinters ran at least as fast as a car, right? (And that just goes to show you what 7th graders know about physics)

By the time the runner got there, the street was crowded. I was being squeezed from all sides, and couldn't see a damned thing. Fortunately, the teachers noticed this and started spreading us kids out. I don't know how it happened; but I wound up right at the curb, with a clear view.
A feeling of awe had spread up the street. The crowd began clapping, and I could see someone jogging down the road carrying what looked like a short, white, whiffle-ball bat. It was so sunny out, that you couldn't see the flame. All that standing around to see a sweaty jogger? What a waste!

And then he ran past.

His sole focus was that flame. The flame I couldn't see. I couldn't see it, but Oh, gods! I could feel it. This flame, that had begun as the rays of the sun, was as pure as it was when it began it's trip in Athens. At least, I imagined so.
He was followed by a pack of back-up runners, who were followed by a van carrying a back-up flame; for the flame must never go out.

That was then. Nowadays, they have several torch bearers in several cities, all running at the same time. That sacred flame is divided, and used to light stupid little cauldrons designed to look just like the big one at the Olympics. The last time the flame went out during a run, it was relit with a propane torch!, because the "back-up flame" was in another city!

I personally believe that each time the flame is divided, each time it's used to light a little cauldron; it's strength is diminished.

Gods, I hate commercialization.