Aiden

Location, Unknown - I have a 5-year-old son. Every day I tell him that he is wonderful. Extraordinary. Special. Amazing. He and his sisters know they are the reasons I smile. And breathe. It’s just how I feel about my kids. The people I really love in my life say exactly the same things about their kids.

A handful of my friends have kids who have walked in Aiden’s shoes. Aiden is 5 years old, too. Just like my little man. But sweet little Aiden’s shoes are walking him chemo treatments for his leukemia. Aiden’s parents are much like other people I’ve met as I travel – the cost of the treatment is and will be increasingly devastating on the family.

Aiden’s parents have an interesting idea, and one I would like to encourage you to consider. Aiden likes to draw pictures of monsters. He’s quite a fan-tas-tic-o little artist, I think. You can go out and take a peek at his work, and then buy one if you like. They are quite a bargain, considering the fact that your investment will look nice in a frame on your wall or just on your fridge whilst having the added bonus of saving a little kids life. Sweet, huh?

So peruse his work. Maybe buy a monster for your Halloween décor! aidforaidan.wordpress.com

She ...

Everywhere, USA - ... has nothing whatsoever in common with me, I thought as she sat down beside me. She has no idea that I am the keynote speaker here and we are on the opposite sides of the spectrum in every instance, I would guess. Her hair; perfectly coiffed, down to the last strand. Me, um, not so much. Need a cut, and badly. Her clothing; high end, and again, perfect down to the last pleat and ironed and starched cuff. Me, been traveling. A lot. Wrinkle-free black pantsuit, standard. Her makeup; flawless. Me, mascara, check. Chapstick. That’s all she wrote. Her shoes; Cole Haan black patent oxford pumps. This season’s, even. (Come on, a girl notices these things!) Me; I’d be 6’9” in those things. Keep dreaming. Her Mercedes is parked next to my little car that juuuuuust barely made the drive. HA!

So there we sit, right next to each other. Worlds apart. Then, as always, I start a conversation. Two minutes, that’s all it takes. She had cancer. Full mastectomy. Family history of ovarian cancer, to boot. With the exception of my pregnant-during-treatment nonsense, we are right on the same page as far as surgeries and the bad hand dealt to us by the dealers in the big genetic card game of life.

So yes, our lives are worlds apart. Shall be forever, is my guess. But under her starched expensive tailored suit and under my wash-n-wear travel gear, we have scars in the same spots. And our hearts, while a bit shredded by chemo, still have a strong desire to keep on pumping. Circumstances have placed us at the same table (or God winking, as my boss would say) and so we begin the conversation. That leads us to realize how very much we have in common, and that the other stuff is just stuff and doesn’t matter.

We leave with a hug. And me envying only one thing – those sweet kicks. :)

The Pinking of Delta

HUNTSVILLE, ALABAMA - For the record, Delta Airlines is not a sponsor of the Vera Bradley Foundation. Just want to get that out of the way lest you think this is some odd product placement gimmick. :)

So October means I get to meet many, many (many!!!) wonderful people on the road. And, as a sad little counterpoint, leave some sweet little people behind at the same time. I am busy in October with speaking engagements, running all over trying to help get donations and sponsors across the nation.

This means I pick up the pace with my flying this time of year. I find myself most often on Delta flights, and this makes me kind of happy. I see a subtle way for their employees to show those of us that are patients and survivors that they care about us and are thinking about us.

I've found that everyone wearing a hint of pink at Delta will also very readily tell you why they are wearing it, too. From the fuchsia ties to the tidy little scarves - pilots, ticket agents, everyone is willing to take an extra minute and share the stories of their aunts, mamas, sisters, wives, even brothers.

I like this. I like that they don't jam it down your throat and force you to acknowledge or donate - it's simply a quiet and dignified statement as a tribute to someone in their lives that has been affected. I really enjoy the moments that they have shared with me, these Delta folks. I really like their big pink plane, although I've never gotten to ride in it (boooo!).

So thanks, big D, for pinking yourselves. Feel free to consider this an open invite to call me about sponsorship, too, honey. ;). (Seriously. (260) 438-8553. Or just look around. Odds are I'm sitting in one of your seats as you read this.)