Since I started telling people I am running this year's New York City Marathon as part of Fred's Team I have had more than a few people ask why. Why did I decide to raise money for Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center? I have a lot of reasons. For now, I'll share one.
Back in the summer of 1988 I was 11 years old and a new member of Boy Scout Troop 86. My parents had signed me up to go spend a week at Camp Yawgoog in Rhode Island. This may be difficult to believe, but at 11 years old I was not the charming, outgoing, witty and generally wonderful person I am now. I was introverted and quiet. I was so introverted and quiet that other introverted quiet kids probably thought there was something wrong with me.
My mom, being a worrier, mentioned to my Tia Iris that she was worried that I would have a miserable time and basically be that kid who didn't make any friends. Thanks mom. So Iris proceeded to guilt, nag and bother my cousin Carlos into going with me. Carlos had been a member of Troop 86, but he was in college for the love of god. He may even have been done with college. He most likely had better things to do that week than make sure I didn't go nuts at the archery range and cause tragedy. However, the power of a puerto rican mother to guilt their offspring into any number of things is immeasurable.
A few words about my Tia Iris. There are very few memories I have of my childhood where she was not present. Her house was an old red farm house with nooks and secret rooms that a kid could hide in for hours. She lived down the block from my parents. If you stood at the corner of Nichols Rd and Patricia you would see a dentist or doctor's office with a circular driveway. If you hopped the back fence you were in my Tia's backyard. I don't recommend doing it today though. I have no idea who lives in that house and they probably wouldn't like strangers hopping into their yard.
Back to my story. Carlos wound up going to scout camp with me. I indeed survived the experience and actually wound up having a good time. Carlos had a better time than me I think. He managed to flip and sink a sailboat.
Some years go by, and one day around 1992 my mother comes home and starts crying as she tells my sister and I that Iris has lung cancer. The woman never smoked, but was probably surrounded by secondhand smoke at work for most of her life. Weekend drives with my mom out to St. Catherine's became part of life for my sister and I. The family mobilized to get her house ready for her to come home to. In order to get that house accessible and ready for her to come home to we basically gutted it. My dad would come home from work and go straight to the house to run electrical, replace hundred year old plumbing, put up drywall, remove and reverse a flight of stairs. An army of uncles, cousins and friends would be there. There were days when my friends would find themselves drafted into painting trim and sanding spackle. I am pretty sure not one building permit was ever issued and there were no certificates of occupancy ever obtained for the work we all did.
Iris was ready to come home from the hospital a few weeks before we managed to put her house back together. She spent a night or two at my parent's house and that is when I really got to see the grim reality of what that disease can do to a person. It was one thing to see her in a hospital. Everybody looks sick in a hospital. But to see her in a place where you had seen her so many times before and realize how weak she looked was shocking. However, she was a tough lady and she was a fighter. She didn't want anyone fussing over her.
Once the last coat of paint was dry we moved Iris back into her house. As the summer of 1993 approached I found myself hopping that fence to visit and one day I told her that I was thinking of skipping Scout Camp. I may have even said that I was thinking of quitting it all together. I was always able to tell Iris things that I would never think of mention to mom and dad. She told me give it another shot and go to Yawgoog. She told me to think about whether I really wanted to quit or not. I told her I would. I probably saw Iris another one or two times before I took the long bus ride to Orient Point, followed by the ferry ride to New London, followed by the longer bus ride to Yawgoog.
About midway through the week, I was coming back to our campsite from somewhere or other with some of the other guys. As I walked into the center of the camp I saw my father standing in front of the senior patrol tent. My dad was never able to get time off to visit for camp stuff. I did not even need him to open his mouth to know that something bad had happened. Sure enough, he confirmed my worst fear when he told me that Iris had passed away. All the friends that my mother was worried I would not make helped me gather up my gear and pack. My dad and I left and did the long drive back to New London, the ferry ride to Orient and the longer drive to Deer Park in silence.
Iris was never a patient at Memorial Sloan-Kettering. I didn't play tetris on my gameboy in the hallways of Kettering while my mother visited her sister. But in the years since I have known others close to me who have had to battle many forms of cancer under the care of many doctors at different hospitals. The work at Sloan-Kettering everyday helps increase the understanding of these diseases and develop new treatment protocols for them.
That is just one of the reasons why I am running.
P.S. Carlos is now a pediatrician. In fact he is my son's pediatrician. And to this day I will not let him live down that he managed to sink a sailboat in a dead calm lake. He of course won't let me live down the fact that I was such a momma's boy that he had to go to camp with me. In response I refuse to pay the co-pay for office visits.
Please take a moment to make a donation to Memorial Sloan Kettering by visiting Daniel Jimenez's Fred's Team Fundraising Page
Remember, give early and give often. It is my goal to raise $3,000.
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