For years that I've participated in the Boulder St. Baldrick's events (affectionately known as Balder Boulder in my circles), I've wanted to write a moving personal message that will inspire strangers to donate and friends and family to donate more. And every year my brain seems to lock up when I start typing, and I wind up keeping it ridiculously simple, with something like, 'It's my X year doing this event, I'm happy to participate'. This year - my 4th year participating as a volunteer shavee - will be different. This year I want to share the reason why I'm so involved in this annual event. You see, cancer has always been lurking around the corners my life. My Dad died of brain cancer in 1974 at age 46. My Aunt is a breast cancer survivor. A couple of weeks ago, my friend's boyfriend was diagnosed with a glioblastoma multi-form tumor ' he's only 26 years old and a new father. Another friend of mine, when fresh out of nursing school, worked in the Bone Marrow Transplant Unit at a local hospital. She worked with kids mostly, getting them ready for their transplants. She would tell me of the painful procedures these kids would endure, and of the incredible spirit and hope these kids and their families had ' the hope that one day they would be able to leave the hospital ' healthy ' and have a normal life, like any other kid you'd see. She told me of one patient in particular ' I never knew his name, only that he had a clever way of dealing with the painful preparations leading up to his transplant ' he would have the nurse who was working with him eat a Wally Warhead candy while he went through his own pain (for those who don't know ' Wally Warheads are about the size of a throat lozenge ' they start out a little sweet, and then suddenly there is a horrible, puckery sourness like you could never imagine. Think lemons soaked in vinegar and pickle juice, and magnified by about 1000...that'd be a Wally Warhead). I liked to see his approach as one of shared endurance ' if he could go through this, so should the nurse working with him. His spirit really touched my heart, and I cried with my friend when she told me that he had passed away. I never knew his name, but I think about him often, especially as St Baldrick's approaches. Why do I shave my head every year for St. Baldrick's? I do it because I miss my Dad, because I love my Aunt, because I want to be strong for my friends. And I do it to honor the memory of a boy I never met or knew, who touched my heart through a friend.