I’ve always wanted to see the Red Sox play on St. Patrick’s Day.  I just thought them wearing green hats and shirts was cool.  On March 17, 2011, I was scheduled to be in Florida for the Red Sox Spring Training game.  I was scheduled to fly out on the 16th with my son, meet my wife, who was giving a talk at a conference, and enjoy the warmth of Fort Myers.

On Tuesday, March 14th, my plans changed.  I received a call from my mom.  Her first words were. “We lost Dad today.” 

My father was battling lung cancer, and true to his form, he never let me know how bad it was.  Instead of watching a meaningless baseball game wearing a green baseball cap, I was standing in front of friends and family wearing a newly purchased light green shirt and tie, delivering my father’s eulogy.

That week, cancer became personal to me.  I had already ridden in two PMCs.  So, the devastation that cancer brings to a person and a family was evident to me.  But, now it was my dad.  When we are young, we believe dads have all the answers.  They can fix anything.  Not cancer.  There was no answer.  No fix. 

Fast forward to 2022. My step-grandson, Kaden, endured his second bone marrow transplant at Boston Children’s/Dana Farber.  He was born with a very rare form of Acute Myeloid Leukemia (AML).  It somehow survived the first bone marrow transplant, and now Kaden and my stepdaughter (Ali) were praying he would survive this second procedure and this horrible cancer.

As I type, he is in full remission (knock on wood). 

Today I ask you for a donation to my PMC ride.  I ask for all fathers and mothers whose lives were cut short due to something out of their control.  I ask for all the children who have a better chance of beating cancer due to the medical advances made in recent years.  Advances that you, my supporters, have helped fund.

Let’s raise a glass and let’s toast to hope that one day, all cancer will be treatable.