Teacher

FORT WAYNE URBAN LEAGUE, INDIANA - “Teacher” is what one little peanut called her. I’d not met her before, this cancer warrior, but was asked if I would like to go hang pink ribbons with some children who had raised funds in honor of their instructor at the FW Urban League.

After I met her (yep, true to form, we hugged and cried within about 2 seconds of meeting each other. Life is good.) I got her message. You know, when you meet someone there is always something they want to make sure you understand before you part – that’s "their message." In my line of work, I meet so many cancer patients and their messages are typically tied to treatment issues, early detection, equality in healthcare, etc. But not this lady, her message was clear, firm and decidedly not what I usually hear.

Hers was this: “THESE KIDS ARE GREAT." Period. She kept saying it over and over, how hard they work, how much love they show, how gentle they can be, how they are rarely acknowledged for the kindness they have within them. Well, this is for you, you little sweeties. This is a big thank you from one lady who was sick, just like your teacher. Thank you from all of us for working hard to raise money to help other sick ladies. Thank you for knowing that if you think about taking care of someone else, it helps your heart, too. Thank you for your hugs yesterday. Thank you for knowing that the future can be bright for all of us.

"I Hate Pink Ribbons"

FORT WAYNE, INDIANA - The above is actually a direct quote from someone who was trying to golf on a day that his country club was hosting an event to raise funds for breast cancer. Nope, not kidding. He didn’t say it because he was a) moved by the display of the ribbons, b) had someone in his life who had endured a journey through cancer or c) was impressed with the herculean effort displayed by the team organizing the event. No, no, no, gentle readers. He said it because he thought they were too distracting on this beautiful day and might get in the way of his golf.

If I may, I’d like to wax a teensy bit snarky on this one. When the organizing committee told me of this statement, they had sad eyes and were looking for my comment. I said, unabashedly; "Yeah, I hate them too." What I didn’t say was "I hate them too, because I hate breast cancer. If you want to ante up, big man, and come make a nice hefty donation that might turn the tide to research and we find a cure, I will personally come and remove every pink ribbon within a 5-mile radius of your precious eyesight."

But I remember my mom, and Jenny Lynn, and so many others we have lost to this rotten disease, and I don’t say that out loud. I don’t go out to the golf course and track down this miscreant. I just say to the team something like this: “What a wonderful life he has had, this man. It’s the middle of a work day, and he is able to be out on a golf course on a lovely day. Clearly, no work to worry about, no house to clean, no one to answer to. He has no connection to cancer, he has had what can only be described as a pretty darned good life. I hope that he is never touched by it. That his life of ease continues and he never has to know what it's like to be sitting in a hospital on a day like today with someone he loves. Good for him. But good for us too – because even though we have had to worry about things, we are still here fighting for others. And are able to enjoy this day, just like him. But in a much more productive way."

I hate pink ribbons, too, Mister Grumpypants. But not because they get in the way of a golf game. :)