A Promise Mended

A little exposition on my For Teh Boobies post from earlier this week...

When I was 11 years old, my Godmother, Mardine Zazworsky, lost a long fight with breast cancer.

Aunt Mardine was one of those people who just personified what good is. She was kind, generous, loving, open, honest, friendly, compassionate, empathic (but not in a Marina Sirtis c.1987 way), and she always had a smile on her face. Everyone who knew her, by default, pretty much became a better person themselves in a small way. She had that effect on people, which only served to add to just how genuinely awesome she really was.

But then, of course, she came down with breast cancer.

Now there's a disease (along with cancers of all types) that no one should ever have to suffer from. Your own body effectively turns against itself: Cells mutate and grow, sucking bodily resources, crowding out and killing off healthy cells. It's a nightmare. And the treatment options aren't much better: Radiation, chemo, drug after drug after drug.

Back then, in the late 80s, cancer treatment was nowhere near what it is today, but even though we've come along a bit, watching a cancer victim suffer isn't pretty. Aunt Mardine was in a hospital bed that sat in her living room for the last few months of her life. For 11 year old Me, that was hard to see. It tore me apart that here was one of the most wonderful women in the world, saddled with the worst disease mankind has ever come to know.

Before she died, she told my mother that she had one request for me: That I get closer to God. She'd hoped her dying wish would turn me closer to the Church.

It feels kind of shitty, but when my mom told me that, I looked at her and said, "I'm sorry, Mom, but I can't do that. I just watched one of the most awesome people on this Earth suffer through this Earth's worst disease. There is no way I can believe in a God that would allow that to happen." I had no choice - My Aunt's suffering was the final nail in religion's coffin for me.

For the first few months after she died, that conflict made me a wreck. All the evidence in front of me was taking me in the opposite direction from where Aunt Mardine wanted me to go. My disenchantment with religion was too strong for me to accept the wishes of someone I loved and cared about very much. This would be the first real conflict I would face as an Atheist, and it took me a while to come up with a way to make it work in my own mind.

Instead of heeding my Aunt Mardine's wishes to get closer to God, I would skirt God altogether and decide for a more direct approach: I would honor my Aunt Mardine's life and struggle in any way I could. Thus began my involvement with charity organizations like Relay for Life.

Since then, I've participated in several Relay events, and donated time for others. For me, it keeps my Aunt Mardine's memory alive in my heart and mind in a vivid and very real way. I've talked with sufferers and survivors about her life and what kind of Godmother she was to me. I've found that, even through simply talking about her life, she still has that same effect on folks that she did during the better years of her life.

Even today, as Aunt Mardine's daughter Janine emerges as a breast cancer survivor, I continue to support any cause aimed at eradicating this horrible illness. If I walk, their names are on my wristband. If I donate, it is in their names. And if I speak out, their names are never far from my lips as I tell their stories of tragedy and triumph in the hopes that it will help inspire the end of the nightmare that is cancer.

And imagine that: My commitment to a secular mode of thinking and living actually drove me to do good things. Maybe we're not such heathens after all if we can do such things in someone's memory, and do them out of pure, real, unbridled love...

In The Valley Of Song

Sad news.

My friend's aunt has been diagnosed with terminal cancer.

Although I never really got to spend much time with her, I still came to know Nancy as a wonderful, wonderful woman. Much like the rest of her family, she's warm, kind, and loving, but not above a dirty joke or three, either.

Whatever it is you do when those you love are in pain, please do so for Nancy. Chances are I won't get to see her again before she passes on, and the very least I can do is get on my soapbox and try to show her as much love as she's shown everyone, not just me.

We love you, Nancy. Thanks for being who you are, no matter what happens.

Get A Full Box

With all the negative bile I either spew or spew about on this blog, it's sometimes easy to forget that, somewhere in this world, there are good - and sometimes even great - things happening. From population-freeing revolutions to the smallest acts of kindness, this world does still have some non-evil in it.

As a former volunteer firefighter, this story hit home double for me, so you can imagine the fun I'm going to have trying to cover it up at work with just a roll of cheap TP for tissues. If you have access to a box of Kleenex or Puffs or whatever the hell your favorite brand is (even the chincy little travel pack jobbies), you'll want to get them now, before you click through.

Got them? OK, away we go. This is the story of a seven year old boy with terminal cancer, and the last-minute effort to make his biggest dream come true. I haven't hit the Thread yet, but I do hope that Farkers are showing love and respect for this poor kid and his family.

Here's to our little fallen brother, the bravest of us all. Sound the bell...

For Elgin

This blog bleeds Black and Gold.

But it's owner bleeds red, just like every other human being on this planet.

Just because of Elgin, I'll say two words I never thought I'd see myself type or hear myself speak:

Go Senators.

If they do dance with Lord Stanley, they should etch this kid's name on it with the rest of the team.

RIP Little Guy...

Crossposted (sorta) to Yahoo360 and MySpace