It’s seven thirty on Saturday morning, and I’ve just returned home from the second-ever, all-night Ancaster-Dundas “Relay for Life” sponsored by the Canadian Cancer Society. My wife Lorna has been the event’s co-chair these past two years, working with a committee of a dozen talented and tireless women – and one man – to raise funds for cancer care and research. In towns and cities all across the world, people pitch their tents and walk laps around a track in an outdoor lovefest of live music, donated food, games, karaoke, exercise, catharsis, and goodwill. But most of all, it’s a night to remember and celebrate those among us touched by the Big C.

There are tears at the Survivor Ceremony, where cancer patients relive the painful indignities of their treatments and give thanks for their cancer-free days, months, or years. There are more tears at the Luminary Ceremony where friends and relatives light candles and tell stories that honour their fallen. My favourite time comes at nightfall, when everyone follows the piper’s Amazing Grace in a commemorative lap around the track, now lined with the glow of flickering lanterns. Each flame represents a life ensnared – some lives burned out long ago and are remembered with bittersweet joy, some departed only last week and the pain of their leaving is all too fresh, other lives are still burning bright and cancer free.

At seven in the morning, after an early breakfast cooked and served by the smiling faces of a service club, the total of the funds raised is announced with a flourish of pride and excitement. Our Relay raised $125,000 this year, a stunning accomplishment in difficult economic times.

But as I was driving home, I couldn’t help thinking about the money, which is the object of the exercise – the prize at the end of eight months of meticulous planning, frenzied emailing, energetic canvassing, and monumental collaborating by dozens of people. And then I thought of the NHL hockey player who earns $125,000 in just one hockey game, and the movie star who earns the same in just one day on the set.

I asked myself why we place outlandish monetary value on professional entertainment – sports and movies – and not on medical care and research. Why did it take so many volunteers eight months to raise the same number of dollars that the NHL pays a single high-profile player in just one game? If there is an answer, it’s beyond me at the moment.

Still, I’m proud of Lorna, her co-chair Vicky, and the countless others who made this year’s Ancaster-Dundas Relay for Life a resounding success. Of course, it’s not all about the money. It’s about honouring our community and bringing out the best in ourselves, and we did that in spades.