The Secret Lives of Parents

Often we (well, I do) wonder who our parents really are, or if they really are our parents. Of course there was life before I was born, but I guess I never really pushed for a lot of answers on this subject, I merely floated along taking in whatever they chose to divulge without question. 

I bring this up because my father casually mentioned in a conversation that he ran with the Olympic torch way back in the day when he was in the AirForce. Umm....., what???? Surely this would have been something of note in prior conversations. I flashed back to all the times I used to challenge him to a race as a child, or even as a bratty teenager, in which I suspect he usually just let me win. Nope, not one mention, photo or hint. 

My father does have a humble nature, which would explain that only a few recent tidbits have slipped.  My only fear is that somewhere along the way in my struggle to grow up, I decided that I didn't need to listen. Was my brain on auto-block for anecdotal treasures from my parents?, it's possible. I sincerely hope that I can recover more of this information, recon style if necessary. Maybe I will learn a little more about myself in the process, or at least get some explanation for some of my genetic personality makeup. Perhaps, next time I make it down to Texas, I'll strap him down and interrogate him tape recorder in hand.  Or, I could just listen. 

Oh yeah, and there was that time he had to land his plane on a strip of highway in Albuquerque... hmm, tape recorder, definitely.