Die Olympischen Winterspiele
By DAVE THORPE

It wasn't so much that Steve Rosentock's own father had competed in the '36 Olympics that made him want to interview the 91-year-old Dan Steneuf, who received a bronze medal in those same games. It wasn't even the fact that Steve's dad had been gassed in Auschwitz in '43 after being outed as a Jew during the Austrian blitzkrieg. Maybe it was morbid curiosity over those fabulous and dangerous times that made him approach the closed door in the posh San Luis Obispo assisted living facility. The sign on Dan's door simply read "Enter, Steve. I'm on the skiing machine and I can't hear over the noise it makes."

Steve entered and stood next to the machine. Dan spoke first. "Let me do the talking for now. My hearing is shot and I need to finish the workout. Take notes and we'll talk later."

Steve mentally compared Dan to Jack LaLanne. They were both the same age but Dan's muscles were even more defined but sinewy and athletic. He had thick, wavy white hair and only the deeper crevasses defining his surprisingly aquiline features gave away an age more than 60 or so.

Dan continued speaking as the skis whirred and slid. "I've never been interviewed before. It can't be over that bronze medal we won in the militar-ski-patrouille back in '36. Is it the fact that I'm a Jew and competed in those sorry-ass times?"

Steve nodded affirmatively. Dan continued, "Don't think for one minute those times are done. Believe me, I wouldn't be doing weights in the morning, swimming at noon, and skiing one hour in the evening if I thought we were home free from those Nazi bastards. I have to be in perfect shape."

"What Nazi bastards?" Steve inquired.

"They've never given up," answered Dan. "After the games I joined the Marines to fight them. Christ, I didn't realize at the time the Marines were strictly fighting in the Pacific. All I got to do was bomb Japs and support the First Marine Division. You know, the other three guys in the ski patrol were killed in the war, fighting Germans. I've never felt I've done my part."

Dan stopped exercising and unstrapped his ski boots. He maneuvered over the equipment and lay down face first over the arm of the small sofa. He slid his gym shorts down to his bony knees, which were the only bodily imperfection Steve could observe. "Reach in the reefer yonder and grab the needle," ordered Dan. "See if you can hit me in the fleshy part of my buttocks."

Steve was shocked. "What? Look I'm supposed to be an observer here doing an interview. I'm no gonzo journalist. What's in the hypodermic, anyway?"

"HGH. You know, human growth hormone. I need an edge here. Goddamn kraut bastards."

Steve sighed and opened the refrigerator. When he was done shooting up Dan he asked again, "Just what kraut bastards are you referring to?"

Dan began dressing. "I use the term in a generic sense. American Nazis are people that feel superior because of race, age, whatever. Then they act out their prejudices."

"Like what? Give me an example."

"Most of the folks in this place are incompetent slobs," seethed Dan. "They favor walkers when getting by on their own power would lengthen their stay on this earth. Then, after taking their meds, they nod off. That's when the orderlies come in, steal their valuables, and do God knows what else."

Steve began to understand why this otherwise healthy ex-Olympian needed the assisted living facility. The man must periodically hallucinate. Dan completed his ensemble by putting on an old, leather aviator's helmet with the flaps resting over the ears. He looked like an alert and lithe Howard Hughes in his better days.

"This damn HGH does wonders," Dan continued, "but there are side effects. I'm feisty and always looking for a fight. It's a little unbecoming for a 91-year-old man, if you follow my drift. But it does work well with my new calling."

Steve was afraid to ask, but did anyway. "And just what is that?"

"I need to keep these oldsters alert. They have to realize the price of apathy. They trust to chance as far as being taken advantage of just like the Jews did in the 1930s and '40s. But when I come into their rooms there is but one course of action if they're not alert."

Steve shuddered. "What would that be?"

"I take their valuables and blame the orderlies. That keeps these oldsters on their toes, by God. Do you know this room and facilities cost me four thousand bucks a month? All I require is some effort and I am entitled to some compensation."

Dan checked himself in the full length mirror attached to the door, and adjusted his hat. Satisfied, he glanced at his watch. "It's 2100 hours. My mission commences." Showing Steve the door, he added, "This interview is over."


 Discuss this story in our Workshop forum