Paralympian Brian Hill sits at the Centennial Flame, the source of a research fund he’s using to investigate the benefits of access to sport for people with disabilities at different stages in their lives. Lysia Filotas, Centretown NewsIt was a gift to all Canadians — a monument erected at the behest of Prime Minister Lester B. Pearson to help celebrate our nation’s 100th anniversary.
At the time of its inauguration, Jan. 1, 1967, the Centennial Flame was meant to remain lit for just a year. But the flame inspired an unexpected sense of public fascination, one that forced parliamentarians to reconsider their decision and make it a permanent attraction on the city’s landscape.
And now, as the recipient of this year’s Centennial Flame Research Award, I feel a special connection to this Parliament Hill landmark — the flame and its famous fountain, where visitors stop at the symbolic heart of Canada, toss coins and make wishes.
Located in the shadow of the Peace Tower, the flame has burned — more or less continuously — for nearly half a century. It’s now poised to take centre stage again as the nation comes together to celebrate yet another monumental occasion: Canada’s 150th birthday.
Today, the flame is a symbol of national unity, a simple yet poignant reminder that we as a people — diverse in character, with different languages, religions and beliefs, from 13 provinces and territories — share a common history, present and future.
As we prepare for next year’s 150th anniversary of Confederation — and the 50th anniversary of the lighting of the Centennial Flame — I now feel a particular affinity to the monument and to those who’ve shared in its history.
Most Canadians don’t know this, but since Parliament’s 1991 passage of the Centennial Flame Research Award Act, all of the money thrown into the fountain has been collected, sorted and awarded each year to a person with a disability who plans to conduct research into the lives of disabled persons or their activities with respect to Parliament.
This year, thanks to the Commons committee that administers the award, I was selected to receive the prize for my research focusing on the importance of access to sport at different stages in life for persons with disabilities — an issue that, as a four-time Paralympic swimmer, is near to my heart. Thankful as I am for this honour, I’m even more grateful for the connection I now feel to the monument itself and to the tens of thousands of people — perhaps even you — who’ve stopped at the flame, thrown a nickel or dime into the fountain, and made a wish.
The award is a prize unlike any other. It’s funded – quite literally — by the hopes and dreams of a nation. I’ve stood before the fountain myself, tossed in a coin for good luck, as a way of enticing God, so to speak, to grant me just this little wish.
Sometimes our requests are small: please, let me pass this exam. Sometimes they’re much bigger: please, let her say yes. But always they’re heartfelt and special — a kind of prayer from within — our innermost desires, confessions and promises for the future.
In short, everything we’ve ever wanted or ever could want to come true. It’s only in writing this that I have come to see the true significance of the award.
Perhaps, had I perceived this sooner, I might not have applied, too daunted by its meaning. But now, having been selected, I hope my efforts are worthy of the cause; and that in pursuing one of my dreams, I’m able to honour yours.
Thank you.