Relay for Life

I wandered over to the local high school a few Friday nights ago to walk around a track for hours.  The infield of the track looked like a tent city.  The track was filled with people young and old.  Many were wearing either purple shirts - the shirt no one ever really wants - or white shirts. It was a humid and warm night but I often had goosebumps, and occasionally a painful lump in my throat and tears in my eyes - like when I saw the young, bald boy in the purple shirt or the smiling and laughing old woman in her purple shirt.  They were survivors; this was the Relay for Life.

The Relay for Life is an American Cancer Society event to raise funds and bring communities together.  Teams from the community - including businesses, schools, or just friends and families - raise money and walk in this event.  According to the Relay for Life website,

Each team is asked to have a representative on the track at all times during the event. Because cancer never sleeps, Relays are overnight events up to 24 hours in length.

The Relay officially kicked off at 6pm.  I was glad to get there for the opening ceremony; it was close because of getting held up at work.  This was the second year my partner and I participated in this event and I wanted to be there again for her during the opening ceremony.  The announcer began the "survivor lap" (where survivors and their caretakers walk once around the track) by asking people who had been diagnosed one year ago or less to get in line first.  I studied their faces - these were the shell-shocked and, in some cases, the sickest looking as many had probably recently finished treatments.  Like last year, this had me fighting my emotions.

The announcer than asked for people who had cancer less than 3 years ago, then less than 5 years ago, less than 10 years ago, etc. up until around 25 years ago or more.  She then said to the people in the front, "Look behind you and know that people do survive cancer; feel their support behind you."  Damn.  That was a very powerful moment.

Because my partner is a survivor, we walked the lap.  It's funny how emotions you're unaware of or haven't visited in a long time come out sometimes.  This was one of those times.  Something internal tires and gives in.  Not in out-of-control way but in a "there is still so much to process" way.  It comes to the surface and in a few short minutes gets pushed down again. But the moment is staggering.

After the survivor lap everyone began the relay.  This was the time to view people's tents as some had themes.  There was also music blaring on the track.  Off the track in the courtyard, there was a jazz band from the high school performing.  They were set up by a food vendor so it was nice to take a food break and see them perform under the little, white lights that surrounded them. 

Later in the evening the survivors had a special dinner.  After dinner they were encouraged to sign the birthday card and indicated how old they were now.  This is a nod to a survivor's "2nd birthday."  That is, it's the day they learn they are cancer-free.  My partner will have her 4th second birthday in July, very near to her actual date of birth.

As dusk approached, the luminaries were placed around the track.  (The luminaries are sold so this is another way the Cancer Society raises money.)  It's a beautiful sight to walk the track and view the bags.  It's also very moving as you read the names on the bags - the names of those fighting the disease or those who have succumbed. 

I was particularly struck by a young boy who sat in front of a luminary for literally 40 minutes, if not more.  It was the picture of innocence.  He was so sweet. He just stared at the bag, often with his hands clasped.  I would guess he was around 7 or 8 and he wore a big sombrero.  I walked past him numerous times and I finally stopped to talk to him. 

First, I asked if I could speak to him.  He looked up at me and I saw his big eyes and pleasant smile when he said, "Sure."  I asked him if he was remembering someone and he said, "No, I'm thinking of my Aunt Patty but she's not dead."  Ah...kids.  Just put it right out there.

He told me he drew on the bag and I complimented him on his good work.  I think this is one of those moments you remember for a long time.  Maybe even a lifetime.  It was dark when I took his picture and he was also wearing dark clothing.  You can see his form because of his sombrero.  He's a little to the right of the middle bag.

Just before I talked to this boy they held a ceremony to light the "HOPE" luminaries.  This was a somber time where people walked the track silently and remembered those that were lost.

I realize this may sound like a downer of an evening to some but it really wasn't.  It felt good to be in an environment where you could just be whatever emotion you felt.  It felt safe and supportive. 

There were lots of fun moments, too.  It was nice to laugh with familiar people and meet new ones.  In addition, after the HOPE luminaries were lit the mood was lifted when there was an announcement that the Stanley Cup Finals game (with the hometown Flyers competing) was going to be projected at the end of the track on a jumbo screen.  That was a lot of fun.

I am planning on inviting more friends to next year's Relay.  (Hint:  If you are my friend and you're reading, plan for the first Friday night in June.  Put it on the calendar now!)  I just don't want to see you in a purple shirt.