Lessons of a grand marshal

When a member of our local Lions Club asked me to be grand marshal of the Father’s Day parade, I was a bit stunned, yet honored to fulfil that request. Wherever this melanoma journey takes me, through a parade or wherever, why not make the best of the ride? And I did.

First lesson learned, $40 of candy doesn’t go far in a fairly popular parade. And to the American Legion rifle squad member who I narrowly missed lofting the last piece of candy to someone at the end of the parade route, I’m glad it didn’t hit you. The wind made accurate tosses a challenge.

While driving along the route, tossing candy was fun (and let’s be honest, most people along the route are only waiting to catch your attention so they can get candy), there were several standout moments during the afternoon.

The first – coming to the spot of the parade where my family sat, my parents waving and beaming. My sister drove them an hour for that brief moment when I drove past on that car. Thankfully the access to their spots on the route allowed this to happen, but seeing them smiling, meant more than I can describe.

Secondly, the number of people taking sun safety precautions, wearing hats, finding shade, using sunscreen. It had more to do with the heat than anything, but it’s something skin cancer patients like to see.

Finally, the lady who stopped me as I walked back along the parade route to thank me for everything I have written in the column ofour local paper. You are the reason I continue to do this, to share my story, to try to make a difference.

As a breast cancer survivor she’s read every word and taken it to heart she told me. I don’t kmow that I said anything more than any other cancer patient might have, but knowing we are not alone in this war makes a gigantic difference.

These are the moments you hold onto, savoring every nuance.

Next year there will be a new grand marshal for the parade and all this will be a dim memory to most.

However, I’ve shared this moment with my family. I saw people paying attention to something and using precautions – at least some of the time when they are in the sun.

Mostly, next year that breast cancer survivor and I will still be fighting and I hope she stops me again on the street as I walk past taking photos of the parade. I want to hug her again and wish her luck, because every year is a priceless treasure, once you bear the diagnosis of cancer.

Lions cub members, thank you for this opportunity. I will treasure it always.

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