"O say can you see" sang the young girl standing on the small
stage, located at the Glynn County Fairgrounds. I removed my hat
and placed it over my heart until she had finished singing The Star
Spangled Banner.
I lowered my head and excepted the bronze medallion which I was now
receiving.
The large crowd of three or four hundred began to slowly shuffle
forward as the music began to play and the ceremony began. I
followed along, most of the time looking down at the ground. Once
in a while I would look up and see the faces of thousands, upon
thousands of people who lined the mile long, oval shaped track that
we were now starting to walk.
Suddenly everything became quiet (to me) as if I were now someplace
else and everything appeared to now move in a slow, and hazy
motion. The five to six thousand people watching us began clapping
and waiving their hands.
Thousands cheered at the top of their voices for all of us who wore
the "bronze medallions and pins."
As we slowly walked past them I raised my eyes up from the ground
and I looked directly into their faces as I passed. Their hands
stretched outward towards us as if they wanted to hug us. I looked
back at the ground and I silently wondered if any of those people
really knew how we really felt inside. Or why they should really
care about us, one way or the other.
They continued to cheer, on and on, as red, white and black
balloons were being released into the heavens, and the bag-pipes
played at the front of the procession. It was if we had become
champions of something special and were now being cheered on by
thousands of Romans who lined the streets of Rome itself.
From out of no where came this wonderful, overpowering feeling
which I cannot describe in written word. It was something that I
have never known as a human being. My jaw began to quiver, my neck
and throat became very tight, and my eyes began to water.
The crowd continued to yell and cheer as loud as they could. Now
and then, I would look up into the eyes of the massive crowd and
see thousands of white, black, brown and yellow smiling faces.
Smile after smile. Clap, after clap. Cheer after cheer. It never
seemed to end.
Twelve thousand clapping hands. All clapping more loudly than I
have ever heard in my entire lifetime.
Smiles, laughter and sounds of joy like I have never known. I felt
as if we had just given the performance of our lives and were for
some reason were being congratulated for a job well done.
For twenty five minutes we walked before we reached the end of the
mile long track. Still the crowd kept cheering and clapping on and
on, and they would not stop. By now I could take no more. The tears
began to stream down my cheeks and I felt so proud.
I looked to my right and I smiled, just a little smile, at the
young six year old girl who had no hair. I looked to my left and
looked into the face of my friend, Sharen, who less than a year ago
had her breast removed. I cried when I thought back to the time
when I was told that I had cancer, and that I had less than six
months to live.
Once again, I looked up into the cheering faces and closed my eyes
to force out the tears, and listened to the thousands upon
thousands of clapping hands, cheering us on.
The 21,416 candles, in white, and gold, paper bags, which lined the
track, were now all lit, and glowing in the darkness. Burning as a
memorial to those of us who survived. As well as to those who were
not able to be there (with us) and walk the American Cancer
Societies "Relay For Life." We, THE SURVIVORS OF CANCER."
Roger Dean Kiser, Sr.
The Sad Orphan Web Site http://www.geocities.com/trampolineone
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Roger Dean Kiser, Sr.