Remembrance of things and people past
Nov. 11th, 2009 07:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blatherskiteUp here in Canada, November 11th is Remembrance Day, our annual day for remembering those who lost their life in the service of our country. I'm not particularly "blind patriot guy", as anyone who's heard me rant about our government can affirm, but I am very proud indeed of being Canadian. I love the reputation our country has internationally, and when I travel, I try my best to help sustain that reputation. I particularly like that our sole bit of military adventurism for nearly 50 years now has been as part of the U.N. peacekeeping troops.
It was very sobering traveling to China a few years ago as part of a delegation, and seeing firsthand how we Canadians are perceived*. The leader kept introducing us as "the American delegation", which earned him polite nods of acknowledgment and mildly frosty formal politeness—then each time, he belatedly remembered that I was along for the ride, and he'd introduce me as the Canadian delegate. Immediately, all heads craned towards me and the room filled with smiles.
* Mostly as quieter and less ebullient Australians. There are worse reputations.
Whether or not you're Canadian, pause a moment and reflect on those who wore a uniform for their country. You may not agree with the causes they fought in, or with the notion of warfare in general, and that's an attitude I can respect. But these people risked their lives for something they believed in, and that's also worthy of respect, particularly in "times of peace" when they believed that civilians needed their help and that providing that help was worth the risk of dying.
Also, a word on behalf of departed friends. At 47, I've been blessed with having lost only two friends to cancer or other illnesses. The one I want to remember tonight is Emru Townsend, who died of leukemia, far too young, almost exactly a year ago. Emru was one of the most relentlessly cheerful and optimistic people I've ever met—the kind of person who brought light into a room just by being in it, and he was always willing to share his considerable expertise in a range of areas with anyone who asked. I never knew him half as well as I would have liked, but a year later, I still miss him.
It's sad to think that Emru might be alive today if he'd found a bone marrow match early in the progression of his illness. Sadly, there aren't nearly enough registered donors, so the odds of finding a tissue match are slim, even if you're White. If, like Emru, you're not, your chances are even lower—most non-White groups are severely under-represented in the donor databases. Though race and skin color are poor predictors of whether you'll be a match for someone (and can therefore donate marrow to potentially save their life), these external attributes the best proxies we currently have short of an actual blood test.
So please spread the word, and encourage your friends (particularly those who aren't White) to sign up for the donor databases. You can learn how at the Heal Emru Web site.
(Yes, I got my blood into the database as soon as I possibly could. Haven't been asked to donate yet, but hope someday to have the chance.)
It was very sobering traveling to China a few years ago as part of a delegation, and seeing firsthand how we Canadians are perceived*. The leader kept introducing us as "the American delegation", which earned him polite nods of acknowledgment and mildly frosty formal politeness—then each time, he belatedly remembered that I was along for the ride, and he'd introduce me as the Canadian delegate. Immediately, all heads craned towards me and the room filled with smiles.
* Mostly as quieter and less ebullient Australians. There are worse reputations.
Whether or not you're Canadian, pause a moment and reflect on those who wore a uniform for their country. You may not agree with the causes they fought in, or with the notion of warfare in general, and that's an attitude I can respect. But these people risked their lives for something they believed in, and that's also worthy of respect, particularly in "times of peace" when they believed that civilians needed their help and that providing that help was worth the risk of dying.
Also, a word on behalf of departed friends. At 47, I've been blessed with having lost only two friends to cancer or other illnesses. The one I want to remember tonight is Emru Townsend, who died of leukemia, far too young, almost exactly a year ago. Emru was one of the most relentlessly cheerful and optimistic people I've ever met—the kind of person who brought light into a room just by being in it, and he was always willing to share his considerable expertise in a range of areas with anyone who asked. I never knew him half as well as I would have liked, but a year later, I still miss him.
It's sad to think that Emru might be alive today if he'd found a bone marrow match early in the progression of his illness. Sadly, there aren't nearly enough registered donors, so the odds of finding a tissue match are slim, even if you're White. If, like Emru, you're not, your chances are even lower—most non-White groups are severely under-represented in the donor databases. Though race and skin color are poor predictors of whether you'll be a match for someone (and can therefore donate marrow to potentially save their life), these external attributes the best proxies we currently have short of an actual blood test.
So please spread the word, and encourage your friends (particularly those who aren't White) to sign up for the donor databases. You can learn how at the Heal Emru Web site.
(Yes, I got my blood into the database as soon as I possibly could. Haven't been asked to donate yet, but hope someday to have the chance.)