September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month

And you thought that this month would pass by without any mention by me.  All you thought I would do was change my profile picture to a yellow equal sign to remind people that there should be equal funding for childhood cancer research.  And most of you didn't notice that.  But why should you?  Childhood cancer awareness month does not bombard you from every angle like breast cancer awareness month does.  NFL players are not wearing gold shoes.  Mars does not sell gold M&Ms.  There are no three day walks down the coast of California, people in a sea of gold scarves, bandannas and sweatshirts.  Childhood cancer does not strike famous people at the height of their careers.  It does not end peoples lives, but instead stops lives from ever happening.
Today, two classrooms of children will be diagnosed with some form of childhood cancer.  One in five of those children will not live.  Cancer will take their tiny little lives and run havoc with it before it takes that child's last breath.  When twenty two children were killed in Connecticut, the nation screamed.  Today over twice that many will be given a sentence that will kill many of them and no one yells.  No one except for the mom and dad, a few outraged friends and people who have been there.  (I exclude myself from that list because unlike most of the parents I know of children who had cancer, I have never been able to get involved.)  This is the shameful extent of my screaming. 
It was five years ago this month that my daughter was in one of those classrooms.  She survived.  She knew one that didn't. 
I am no a crusader or advocate.  I don't get on soapboxes beyond my keyboard.  I am full of opinions, but will never follow up on them, never will work hard enough to make a change.  I ought to though, because mine was one that made it off the pediatric oncology ward and moved on to great and glorious things.  Mine did not remain forever a seventeen year old but has kept on living large.  Mine did not create a list of hopes and dreams that are being fulfilled by her parents, but went out and fulfilled those hopes and followed those dreams.  So maybe I should do something more than remind those of you that will read this that there are babies dying because there is no funding.  Maybe I should start proclaiming that gold is the new pink.  Maybe I should think of all those advocates that went before me and raised the funds that found the cure that cured my daughter and be that advocate for the next two classrooms.
 Hey Lisa, if you are reading this, what is my first step?