Last Saturday, I had the opportunity to walk in the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure with some very dear friends, one of whom is a five year survivor. Along the route, we connected with another friend of mine who is a ten year survivor this year. As we walked among the more than 60,000 participants, I was moved to tears a few times. The camaraderie and the unity of the people who packed the streets of downtown St. Louis was not only heart-warming it was also sometimes overwhelming. Women walked with their daughters and sons, with their husbands and sisters, with their grandchildren and neighbors and coworkers. Some women proudly revealed their bald heads, the result of chemotherapy. Others were pushed in wheelchairs. There were pink tutus and pink wigs and dogs in pink tutus and wigs. Babies perched on parents' shoulders or rode along in wagons or strollers. The walkers were black and white, men and women, old and young.
It was a true representation of the disease. It is no respecter of persons. It affects everyone of us in one way or another. What an amazing experience! I am proud of you St. Louis. And I am thrilled to be celebrating with you Terri and Tammy! I hope that someday we are all just walking in celebration because a cure has been found.
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