I wanted another Hess truck. I’d agreed to give away one of them on my blog, but when I asked for a second one to donate to the pediatric oncology ward at a local hospital, I was told that there were limited supplies of the freebie holiday trucks (actually, it’s a race car this year), and so, I’d only get one.
Fair enough. But this year, especially, it doesn’t feel like I’m doing enough with my blogger’s influence to simply cut some slack for a fellow parent who wouldn’t mind one less thing to purchase for the holidays. I feel like I — we — could all do a little something more.
Granted, I’m a little more emotional this month, having just celebrated my second anniversary in remission from cancer. (It was most likely to return in the first two years, so I’ve turned a corner of sorts.) I’d given a speech to about 200 neighbors, friends and family at my Kiss Cancer Goodbye fundraiser for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, during which I explained that cancer made me look at things differently. I admitted to watching my kids a little longer and to volunteering to play ball with the boys’ soccer team I coach because I thought I’d never play again. I told them:
“I went to the lake two weeks ago on a gorgeous fall day when the leaves were perfect. When I saw all the cars passing by, I thought, Don’t you see this? Why don’t you stop?”
But I explained that the price for that feeling, that understanding, is fear. And it’s too high a price to pay for me, and it’s too high for my children.
So you can see why this holiday season more than ever, I want to give to those people who know that fear. I know I am not alone in this idea, either. So, I’ll give away the Hess race car when it arrives here, as I promised. But I’m also going to buy one and give it to the pediatric oncology ward at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Paterson, New Jersey.
If you’re a blogger and you get offered swag this holiday season, why not ask for a second one to give to charity? And if you’re a reader, how about you donate your prize? It’s a win-win-win, no matter how you look at things.