Even white men can be heroes
See what I did there? That’s called IRONY, boys and girls. Or maybe it’s called satire. Or maybe it’s both. I don’t know. Would some wordy types like to weigh in here?
Oh wait. I AM a wordy type.
The white-man hero I’d like to introduce you to is named Dan Ryan. (pictured on the left up there.) Many moons ago, Dan and I went to college together at George Mason University. He, Warren (aka Renno) and I met during my freshmen year and immediately formed a sort of happy threesome. (No, not that kind of threesome.) I spent inordinate (and some might say “inappropriate”) amounts of time in their dorm that spring and their friendship was a safe haven from the extreme cattiness of the females in my own dorm. (Don’t get me wrong… I LOVE women… but these girls were being passive-aggressively mean to me.)
Can I use an adverbial form of passive aggressive? Wordy types, feel free to weigh in.
Dan was my buddy. (I hope he still is, despite the years and distance between us.) I cracked jokes with him. Drank FAR too much alcohol with him. Sprawled on the dorm lounge’s couch with him, spouting the half-philosophical inanities of early adulthood, and passed out (at least) one time his room after drinking the deceptively-dangerous and aptly-named Slip-N-Fall. (I missed a DC pro-choice rally the following day because of that infamous night…)
12 lagers (Corona was used during my own tragic Slip-N-Fall evening…)
1 can frozen lemonade concentrate
1 can frozen limeade concentrate
Throw it all together, mix and enjoy... carefully.
Apparently, Dan has been reading this blog fairly regularly and something I wrote moved his kind heart (and his deep wallet) enough to donate to a cause I hold near and dear. In a recent blog post, I mentioned that I wanted to get a “bad-ass tattoo on the reconstructed breast” and that when the time came, I wanted to get connected to my tattoo artist through an organization called P.ink (http://p-ink.org/). Not long after that post, Dan wrote to tell me that he’d donated $1000 to this organization.
Getting a tattoo over your scars isn’t just about getting some “cool ink.” Having someone create a thing of beauty in the exact spot where so much ugliness has taken place is a powerful way for women to recover psychologically from the ravages of breast cancer. And believe me when I say that this disease DOES ravage you. It touches so many aspects of your being – your body confidence, your sexuality, your self-esteem, your femininity – that there are days when you truly don’t recognize who you are anymore.
Sometime in 2018, I also hope to officially close this devastating chapter of my life my having one of P.ink’s tattoo artists cover my breast with a meaningful piece of art. And even if Dan’s gift doesn’t directly benefit me in my quest to spiritually recover from breast cancer, his donation supports a group that strives to help all of us survivors heal and move forward.
