Bomb Changed Forever The Olympic Spirit
Nightfall in Atlanta found Larry Parsons sitting on an iron bench, trying to tune out the steady roar of the always bustling Centennial Olympic Park.
Parsons, who loathes crowds, focused his attention on a commemorative brick bearing the name of his only daughter.
Lindsay Parsons died of cancer last September, exactly one week after her 16th birthday.
Visiting his girl’s personalized brick - one among hundreds bought by Olympics benefactors to raise funds for construction - was a primary reason the Spokane educator traveled 3,000 miles to attend the Games.
It was early on a warm Friday evening when Parsons left the bench with his 12-year-old son, Grant. They walked off to watch the Dream Team dismantle the not-so-great ball of China.
Six hours later, 1:25 a.m. on July 27, the pipe bomb that shook the world exploded some 40 yards behind the bench. The rust-colored, engraved bricks in this place of goodwill were suddenly bathed in the red blood of victims caught in the nail-packed bomb’s vicious spray.
Alice Hawthorne, the only person killed by the blast, lay within feet of Lindsay’s name.
Hearing of the violence the next morning “scared the hell out of me,” says Parsons. “My first reaction was to get my family out of there.”
After an hour, Parsons says his emotions evolved beyond fear to anger and then resolve. “We decided,” he adds, “that we weren’t going to let this stop us.”
Parsons and his wife, Kathy, who grew up in Atlanta, are back in Spokane after one of the most memorable and turbulent experiences of their lives.
Larry is an area director with Spokane School District 81. He oversees 16 schools and 10,000 students. Kathy is a swimming instructor with the county’s Parks and Recreation and a teacher at Mountain View Middle School.
The Parsons crammed 10 events into their dozen days at the Olympic Games. They watched men’s and women’s gymnastics, beach volleyball, water polo, diving, swimming and track and field events.
“We wanted,” says Larry, “to be part of a worldwide celebration.”
Asked to name their most enduring images stumped the couple for a moment.
There was the sight of Vice President Al Gore and his wife, Tipper, nonchalantly walking into a sports venue to take regular seats with the rest of the herd.
There was the woman who kept yelling, “Look, it’s Phil Donahue.” It was really House Speaker Newt Gingrich.
There was Charles Barkley miming the YMCA song on the sidelines during a game.
There was the Rev. Jesse Jackson holding court with his many minions.
There was the sensation of being sardines as the Parsons rode to events packed into the Olympic shuttle buses.
But there will always be the bomb.
For those attending the Atlanta Games, says Parsons, that single senseless millisecond of carnage ripped the fabric of the Olympic spirit.
“There was a real distinct difference in people’s attitudes after the bomb,” he says. “It’s as if some of the joy was gone.
“It left a muted feeling. There was still a lot of national pride, but there wasn’t that, ‘It’s a party’ atmosphere.”
Last Tuesday, the day before they left for home, the Parsons attended the reopening ceremonies at Centennial Olympic Park.
They came to listen to the prayers and to end their stay in Atlanta on a note of healing. They came to reassure themselves that no lingering bloodstains marred the rust-colored brick placed there in the loving memory of Lindsay Parsons.
“Having it there,” says Parsons, “has a lot of emotional value for me. In some ways, because of all that happened, Lindsay and the Olympics will always be intertwined.”
, DataTimes