I had 
fully intended for this entry to be about the final crew party last night. Crew parties are an aspect of shipboard life that passengers never see, and quite honestly it’s probably better that way – you wouldn’t want to.
But there are much more important things than hearing about 400 or so crewmembers drinking cosmopolitans on tap on the Mooring deck till the wee small hours of the morning. Much more important things.
So here goes.
Once every cruise the line I work for hosts Susan G Komen’s On Deck For the Cure, to raise money for the crusade to end the ongoing horror that is breast cancer. This morning was that morning. So, we all crawled out of bed, donned our pink eyeshadow and white t-shirts and gathered on the promenade to lap the deck 10 times. 5k in total. Many, many people showed up, but not enough. If I had my way, every single person on board, even if they were in a wheelchair, would have been in that line-up behind the pink ribbon.
We had two survivors with us this morning,who held either side of the pink starting ribbon and pulled the bow apart to start the event. Representitive of those who have been fortunate enough to face the beast and live – and we had a goodly number of men as well, which is important to note, because this effects men as well, and children. Just because women are the victims you hear about most doesn’t mean that we’re the only ones.
We make it fun, we make it light hearted, some of us danced a lap, at one point the cruise director and DJ held the starting ribbon over the deck like a limbo pole – we spun, pirouetted and cheered our way through the ongoing lap cards (“is it a 9? OR is it a 6…?” “NUMBER 10! COME ON LADIES! WE CAN DO THIS!”) – but under all that everyone in that ebbing flow of people marching the decks to We Are The Champions was marching for someone. For something. I can’t really describe the impact of being part of that crowd. A united front, a small wedge in the mountain of indifference that’s so common in the world these days.
I was part way through my first lap when I realized who I was walking for. When I remembered Bree.
That’s not her real name of course…but I’m not sure if she would want her real name posted, so Bree it is.
Bree is my mother’s best friend and my godmother. She was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was in early university, my final year of studio dance performance. I remember the look on my mother’s face when I finally worked up the nerve to tell her what our dance teacher had told us. I remember her peeling back into the parking lot, and being unable to pull herself together enough to ask “Is Bree…sick?”
“Yes, I’m afraid she’s really sick…”
Bree recovered, and is one of the strongest survivors I’ve ever met. She has become one of the women whose strength I strive to emulate. But not everyone is so lucky.
Like I said at the beginning of this: there are some things far more important than parties, or pictures, or traveling the world.
We can end this. Through sheer determination, and humanity, we can end this.
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