It Takes a Village

In the final days leading up to the Susan G. Komen 3-Day, I have reflected on friendship – the 50+ years of friendships that have propelled me to the start line.

Fundraising support has frequently come from entirely unexpected quarters.

Recent donors include Stina, which has given me the joy of travelling down memory lane from screaming Divinyls lyrics as we danced across campus to Gods & Goddesses as ‘Shmen, to watching every single Anne of Green Gables movie in two days while eating Cool Ranch Doritos, to having her stand up as a bridesmaid when I married Todd, to seeing her walk in the door when I needed her most.

Among my newer friends, I owe Becky my gratitude. The word that lights up the brightest when I think of Becky is “kind.” I know with my propensity to wax poetic, the simplicity of this description stands out. Becky’s kindness is such a deep well – one that will never run dry. This quality is such a fundamental characteristic of who Becky is that all other adjectives seem tepid – and is a quality I seek to emulate.

Julio and Tita share my joy of discovering the world, both in our backyard and across the globe. I have come away from virtually conversation shared Julio or Tita with new knowledge and insights. They have passion for life and plan to experience it robustly as they enjoy traveling to all corners of the world as frequently as possible. Between hiking and life-long learning, they have identified the secret to eternal youth.

The ever-graceful Lisa is among my far too large contingent of friends who have personal experience with breast cancer. She is among those who has had to master the fine art of bending to avoid breaking, as she experienced multiple detours before she was able to look at cancer in the rear view mirror. Her experiences have empowered her to support her health with a vengeance and a solo walk with her leaves me huffing and puffing . . . but it also gives me the opportunity to hear about her children’s latest accomplishments and see the most recent adorable pictures of her grandchildren.

Maria circled around for a second round of support. Just last night, I identified Maria as the most pragmatic of my friends. When I consider this quality in light of Maria’s additional donation – I have greater confidence than ever because this lady wouldn’t back a losing horse! She is one of the most capable, grounded people I know. If the zombie apocalypse ever comes, I’m choosing Maria to help me survive.

My last thank you before I walk out the door and head to San Diego is for Aunt Carolyn and Uncle Dick. They are part of my original village. Uncle Dick is the family standard bearer – upholding the pun-heavy humor tradition the defines an Oyen. Aunt Carolyn is the queen of showing up. She doesn’t ask what help is needed – because she understands that sometimes even that question is too much pressure. She simply announces, “I have a hotel room. I will be there 10 days after your heart surgery.” When she arrives, she sees a stack of laundry – and figures the kids are running out of underwear, so she gets to work.

The village that has enabled me to reach the Komen starting line is huge. More than 40 financial donors. Almost as many walking companions. Advice from veteran participants. Family subjected to even greater minutia regarding this experience that all who read this blog – but who still pick up the phone when I call. The texts I have received this morning wishing me luck.

A pebble drops, and ripples reach a distant shore. A decision to walk in a breast cancer event connected me to old friends, reinforced current relationships, and opened the door to new ones. It helped me develop a consistent routine that minimizes the aches and pains associated with the maintenance stage of breast cancer. Hopefully, the funds raised in support of me, the almost 2000 other walkers, and the many other events and organizations fighting cancer will form a great tsunami that crushes cancer for good.

In the meantime, my shoes are packed - time to get them moving in San Diego.