The Fundraiser

Last night I participated in a fundraiser event for a women's heart disease screening and education program at the hospital where I work. A local theater is rented, people buy tickets, get little giveaways, and enjoy an entertaining program on heart health. The audience is mostly women, understandably, and they all show up in black or red outfits.

I was a volunteer. To get to volunteer, I had contacted the director of marketing for the event, and a colleague of mine had put me in touch with this marketing person. They did not put out a general invitation for volunteers, so the fact that I was included in the group was somewhat of a coup. Indeed, many of the other volunteers were managers and directors at the hospital and the cardiology office.

I keep showing up at these things. I keep getting seen by the "right" people. This is somewhat intentional, but honestly, I really wanted to hear the headline speaker, and I thought the event would be fun. Moreover, I am a cardiology nurse - I am interested in the topic.

The speaker was Dara Torres, the medalist American swimmer from the Beijing Olympics. I heard her entire talk, and although it was good, I was a little disappointed. The only reason was that she wasn't as polished a speaker as I would have liked. Her speaking style was a little tiresome to listen to; she spoke in very long sentences that were hard to keep up with, and she spoke fast. She had some interesting things to say, though, and she was quite funny.

I came to the conclusion that if I had met her in other circumstances, I don't think I'd befriend her. That's OK (and Dara, if you happen to read this, no offense. You probably wouldn't like me much, either). Nevertheless, she is still an inspiration, a shining star of the Olympics for me, because we are of similar age and I relate to the need to persist at something you simply love, despite society telling you it's time to give that childish thing up. So it is with me and music.

As part of my volunteer duties, I stood at the top of the stairs and directed the VIPs to their pre-event party. I had some time to think about things while standing there. I thought about these types of events, with VIPs giving extra money to a cause and getting extra little goodies: pictures with the star, a nice pashmina scarf/shawl, a pretty boxed gift (I didn't get to see what those were). These VIPs are my people. These are the people with whom I was raised, and I feel very comfortable among them.

I thought about this and I was thankful. It takes an astute parent to raise children to function in the upper middle class and I appreciated my parents for doing this. My parents were not themselves raised in the upper-middle class, yet through education and parents who wanted them to be better, they grew into those ranks.

You'd think I'd want to be a VIP. No, right now, I'm OK being of service to the VIP. By being of the same caliber as these people, I can serve them effectively. This makes me think I should become a private nurse to the wealthy. I think I could serve them very effectively. There is honor in such service.