My Opinion
Social captain finds true meaning of Thon in life and death

The largest student-run philanthropy in the nation.

It is nearly impossible to find any description of the Interfraternity Council/Panhellenic Dance Marathon without this phrase. Thon at Penn State is the biggest in size, numbers and money raised.

It takes about 1,000 people to raise the more than $2 million for children living with cancer. But those are just numbers.

Thon is more about the human element than anything else. It is about the families, their support and, above all, the children.

But it is easy to get lost in the numbers, in the logistics, in the enormity of the event. I know I started to. As a member of the 1999 social committee (the committee that is in charge of food and beverages for the weekend), I found myself thinking about Thon in terms of the numbers of mouths to feed, the number of hours between meals and the number of food items we had to serve.

I am ashamed to say the numbers almost started to block out the real reasons I participate in Thon.

Every one has his own story for getting involved. Some had friends and family members afflicted with cancer. Some saw friends raise money, participate and get excited. Many people saw Thon for themselves and knew they had to get more involved.

The latter was my reason. From a non-greek, non-Lion Ambassador organization, I had to find Thon on my own. And for three years I have described in my interviews, the magic I felt and witnessed my freshman year when I covered Thon for The Daily Collegian.

I talked about the different perspective I felt I could bring to the committees and I emphasized my willingness to work very hard.

While all those things are still true, if I had one more Thon interview and was asked, "Why Thon?," my answer would change.

About two weeks ago, I got an e-mail from a friend from home. I was surprised to see his name in my inbox because I hadn't spoken to him in a few months but I was more concerned to see the subject line -- "sad news."

He had written to tell me that another friend had died that morning of cancer. She was 23 years old.

At her funeral, I watched her parents and grandparents bury their granddaughter. The priest talked about how unnatural it was for parents to bury their child. I don't think I ever thought about how wrong that was until I saw her grieving parents with my own eyes.

During the procession, one of our mourning friends cried, "It's not … fair." That just about sums it up.

I drove back to State College that evening to attend the Thon kickoff dinner. That night, I watched two parents talk about how close they came to losing their own child and about friends who had buried their 6-year-old son.

As they spoke I could not help thinking about the cancer patient I had mourned that morning. At least my friend got to graduate from college. The 6-year-old boy did not even make it through elementary school. It isn't fair.

For the first time in my three-year involvement with Thon, I truly understood how unfair it all was.

For three years, I had played with the children, heard the success stories and cried for those who had not made it. And while I knew how important Thon was for the families, it took the death of my friend to really understand what these families and friends were going through.

I think I have a new comprehension about the pain, frustration, love, courage, honesty, knowledge, strength and hope that is embodied in the families and in the thousands of students who participate in Thon on committees, by dancing, by raising money or by simply being there to support the event.

But even as I write these words, I know the numbers of Thon will soon begin to occupy my thoughts once again.

Throughout the weekend, I will become obsessed with times and amounts. I will worry about who is eating what, when and where. But behind my worry, I will try not to lose sight of the bigger picture.

Despite being involved with Thon for three years, I feel that I have acquired this bigger view for the first time this year.

Being a captain has given me a new perspective on the event in the sense that I now know how much work goes into this event to make it fun and successful for the dancers and children. Although I always knew Thon was more than a 48-hour event, this was the first year I truly understood how much work and dedication goes into it.

And having a friend die of cancer has given me a new perspective and respect for the families and for the participants who become like members of those families.

I think the phrase "the largest student-run philanthropy" is more than having the most people and money. It is about having the most courage, honesty, knowledge, strength -- and love.