It is that time of year again. I am doing the Relay for Life tonight and can use any support that the Denmonites can offer. Whether or not it is merely sharing the link below, or if it is donating some of your hard earned money for a great cause, I thank you.
We all know of a loved one that has succumbed to cancer, and this is our way to punch cancer right in the mouth, where it hurts. We hit the track tonight at 6pm EST and every dollar counts.
What is Relay?
In May 1985, Dr. Gordy Klatt walked and ran for 24 hours around a track in Tacoma, Washington, ultimately raising $27,000 to help the American Cancer Society fight the nation’s biggest health concern cancer. A year later, 340 supporters joined the overnight event. Since those first steps, the Relay For Life movement has grown into a worldwide phenomenon, raising nearly $5 billion to fight cancer.
What We Do:
Organized, overnight community fundraising walk
Teams of people camp out around a track
Members of each team take turns walking around the track
Food, games and activities provide entertainment and build camaraderie
Family-friendly environment for the entire community
How Can I Donate?
Simple! Just cut and paste the link below or click here.
My buddy Joseph Grant recently had a piece, Face of War, published in Writing Raw. In thirteen pages, Grant is able to take the reader through the mind's-eye of a soldier wounded in battle. Many pieces of literature have revolved around this familiar subject matter, but Joseph Grant takes the idea and brings a very unexpected twist.
Suffice it to say, the short story will have you searching your own face in the mirror. You'll wonder how people are able to overcome the mental trauma of losing themselves when the most crucial elements with which they associate their identity, are taken away.
Face of War
By Joseph Grant
It's been said, that in war, you never hear the shot that kills you. But you never hear the one that almost kills you, either. Nor do you hear the roadside bomb called an IED for Improvised Explosive Device when it goes off nearly dead center beneath your supply truck. But if you are somehow fortunate to wake up in a hospital afterwards, you will hear the ringing in your ears for weeks. The screaming of the dying soldiers around you never quite goes away.
"You're one of the lucky ones." is what they tell as you lay in the hospital bed but you don't consider yourself lucky at all. You feel like hell as your body fights to stay alive, fluids oozing through gauze everywhere. The bed is a mess and they have rounds where they pick you up as you scream in pain so that they can change the bed, change the tubes and the dressings, put you back together again before the morphine kicks in again. No, you don't consider yourself lucky. You're pieces of your former self. The lucky ones have all died, for they no longer have to live with the memory of war.
