For a good number of years, I was an aspiring gymnast and obsessed with Nadia Comaneci who had scored several perfect tens in the 1976 Montreal Olympics. When I was in grade school I knew, just by looking at my fellow gymnasts, that I probably wasn't ideal for the sport given that I was so much taller than they were, but I loved gymnastics and, for the time being, was dead-set on sticking my back-handspring on beam. As a birthday gift that year, I received Jill Krementz's A Very Young Gymnast and was completely taken with it. I loved that it was so long—a hundred and twenty-eight pages to be exact, and laden with photos of the book's intriguing subject. It chronicled a year in the life of Torrance York -- a pretty, petite gymnast who was an incredible athlete and likely to compete in the Olympics. The story covered every aspect of her life from the glamorous (a trip to Europe to compete against a team in West Germany) to the mundane (doing homework). I must have read the book a dozen times that year —soaking in all aspects of her life, especially her dedication to the sport. I went on to seek out all of the books in The Very Young series by Krementz but none spoke to me in quite the same way as A Very Young Gymnast.

I competed in gymnastics through middle school but my high school didn't have a team so I turned my attention to field hockey and tennis. I loved those sports but never in the way that I loved gymnastics. Over the years, I kept my copy of A Very Young Gymnast and often wondered what happened to Torrance York. During the 1980s, I always expected to see her name on the USA Gymnastic's team but that never happened.

Here's where it gets interesting. About five years ago, I was looking through the paper and saw a gallery opening for a photographer's exhibit. The photographer's name was Torrance York. Could this be the same person? I had to find out. I went to the opening and sure enough, there was Torrance York. She was still pretty and petite but now an accomplished photographer. I thought her chosen career was especially interesting considering Jill Krementz photographed her extensively. Some influence there? Maybe. After the opening, I got up my nerve and mentioned to her that I was a gymnast as a kid and loved her book. She said she still kept the fan letters she received from readers all those years ago. I smiled, but felt too embarrassed to admit that one of those letters was from me. I asked her what happened with gymnastics—did she stop competing? She told me that soon after the book came out, she had to make a serious decision about her career -- leave her family and move away to train full time in the hope of making the Olympic team, or remain home and basically give up that dream. She chose the latter. Although she competed all through high school and college, her decision not to seriously train away from home, I'm sure, affected who she has become.

The photographs on the gallery wall were absolutely stunning. No question there —she became a gifted artist. Before our conversation ended, she pointed to a photograph and asked me what I saw. The image was a close-up of a road with a dotted yellow dividing line. I quickly responded— "a beam." "I see a balance beam." She looked at me and smiled and said something like: "I ask everyone that question and only gymnasts see the beam." It was a terrific moment; one I won't forget. I've always thought that Krementz should have done a magazine article or blog post informing grown readers what became of her "Very Young" subjects. I know so many of us would love to know If A Very Young Skater or a Very Young Rider pursued their childhood dreams, or did those dreams lead them somewhere equally, if not more exciting, as in the case of The Very Young Gymnast.