Your Part Matters
Hello friends, I hope this finds you well.
Will you make a donation to support me in the fight against cancer?
Wait! Before you leave the page, or put off a decision until later, allow me to take two minutes of your time to tell you what I’m doing, and why.
I’m walking this October in the San Francisco Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure. It is a three day, sixty mile walk through the rather significant hills of the Bay Area. I’m doing it with thousands of others to help raise millions of dollars for the fight against cancer. I’ve started my training and I’m walking daily hoping that the dunes of Michiana are at least a decent representation of the Santa Cruz Mountains.
You probably know that the fight against cancer has been both a personal and professional passion of mine for years. In 1999, my mother died of cancer. It was a pivotal event in my life, there’s no doubt about it. Her death left my family with lots of questions and a drive to help find a cure.
For over ten years I’ve dedicated my business and my life to achieving that goal. My company has helped produced dozens and dozens of events that have raised hundreds millions of dollars for the fight against cancer.
But this past fall, the fight became intimate for me again when my father was unexpectedly killed. His untimely death brought back all of the questions, the anger, and the uncertainty I felt over a decade ago. None of us think we need a reminder about the fragility of life. And yet, when I received such a reminder, I realized how naïve I had grown.
We live in a world that increasingly feels to move without regard to our actions. We are told the economy is beyond us; that conflict will continue regardless of our motives; that in our future is an emptying world. It is easy to simply stay put, to let the world revolve and take us with it, to decide that our part doesn’t matter.
My father’s death was a reminder that our part DOES matter. Perhaps if enough of us just realized that our efforts make a difference, we’d see a difference being made. Perhaps if enough of us started moving the right way, we’d be able to take the world in the direction we want it to go.
My participation in the Komen 3-Day for the Cure is one way of getting myself moving. The event raises critical funds in the fight against breast cancer funds that are used not only for care of the sick, but for research that is absolutely needed to prevent more men and women from losing their lives to cancer.
It is simply not acceptable to me that my children think of my mother as an abstract concept. They have no memories of hugs, or smells of oatmeal cookies, of the scent of her perfume. It is neither acceptable to me that my four-year-old daughter, nearly every night, says as I put her to sleep, “Wouldn’t it be great if there were no heaven, so no one would leave us?” These are not the thoughts my parents would have wanted for their grandchildren.
My hope is that my participation in this event will also impact my children’s memories of their grandparents. My hope is that my children will someday say, “my grandparents inspired my dad to make a difference.”
I hope you will support me by clicking the link at the top left and donating an amount commensurate to the journey I’m making. I promise I’ll keep you updated on every mile, every dollar, and every blister that brings us closer to the world we all want to create.
In any case, thank you. I know it is not easy to read these fundraising letters. I know we all get too many of them and that makes them hard for me to write, too.
But I’ve learned that it is easier to write a fundraising letter than it is to write a eulogy.
Thank you. Your part matters.