With one e-mail, Donna Fahey went from "Great Aunt Donna" to "Mediocre Aunt Donna."
Their relationship began in early 2003, when Fahey's 9-year-old third cousin, Taylor Adkins, was battling a brain tumor. The Hampton, Va., girl's ups and downs were followed by people all over the world via a Web site set up by one of her teachers.
Fahey, who lives in McKeesport, hadn't even known Taylor existed until another cousin called to tell her the situation and ask her to pray. This beautiful little girl was family, so Fahey started praying and, later, visiting the Web site.
She learned how Taylor so loved school that she did homework on her way to chemotherapy and radiation. Taylor hated how the treatments made her look -- bald, bloated -- and how other kids looked at her. Still, she longed to return to school so she could graduate with her fifth-grade class in 2004.
Fahey joined in posting notes on the Web site. Hers were funny. At the news Taylor could return part time to school, she teased:
Dear Taylor, I hated school. Why do you want to go back to school? If you want to learn anything, watch 'Judge Judy.'
Great Aunt Donna.
After reading how pro-school others were, Fahey felt like a fool. So she apologized, writing:
I can no longer be Great Aunt Donna. I'm just mediocre.
Taylor loved it. Everyone on the site did. Gradually they all got to know this character now called "Mediocre Aunt Donna."
Taylor's mom, Amy Thorstad, never knew what to expect when a package arrived from McKeesport, her hometown. She hadn't even met Fahey and Taylor was too sick to talk directly with her. But Thorstad would phone her. When she'd say, "You gave Taylor a laugh today," Fahey felt joy.
Then, last April 30, Taylor died.
Fahey knew it was coming, but still was crushed. She thought, Taylor and I were having so much fun.
So dear had Taylor become to her, Fahey wanted to do something special to honor her.
When a relative called in February to ask, "How would you like to shave your head for Taylor?" Fahey said, "Sure!"
Like that, she was organizing a fund-raiser for the St. Baldrick's Foundation, which inspires people to solicit donations and shave their heads to raise money and awareness for research into cures for childhood cancers.
Taylor's family took part in one March 20 in Norfolk, where 100 became "shavees" and raised $104,000.
Worldwide, the events so far this year have raised more than $3.3 million.
Fahey held her "celebration" yesterday afternoon at the All About You Salon in White Oak.
She felt nervous about losing her hair. But the 56-year-old blonde kept telling herself, "Hair grows back."
Her hair has been every color but its natural light ash since she started dyeing it when she was 16. She's been told it could grow in curly, like it was when she was a girl. Only she's sure it will grow in gray.
Friends offered wigs, but she doesn't want to wear one. Being shaved also is a show of solidarity for cancer patients who so often lose their hair.
Thorstad, regularly talks to Fahey, whom she now calls simply "Mediocre." It's clear she thinks she's anything but -- for organizing the fund-raiser, for the ways she deluged her daughter with love and laughs.
"Because of Aunt Donna's humor, it was a perfect match," Thorstad said. "A perfect match."
Those who attended yesterday's event listened to jazz CDs, munched homemade cookies and donated pizza, wore St. Baldrick's T-shirts, wacky leprechaun hats and shamrock sunglasses. In all, 17 people went under the electric trimmers.
Fahey watched the first female to lose it, hair stylist Cyndi Townsend. The 28-year-old fought back tears as her locks hit the floor, but the crowd tossed her compliments and cheers.
"Good for you!" said Fahey, clapping, before she sat, a bit shakily, in the chair. Salon owner Dana Grace let her buzz off the first clump. Fahey said, "I can't believe I'm doing this."
She didn't cry. She'd already done that the night before, and that morning, thinking of Taylor, whose pictures covered the poster she made and brought -- the girl so adorable you didn't want to notice the dates, "Nov. 3, 1993 -- April 30, 2004."
In minutes, it was done. As Fahey turned toward the mirror, she was almost speechless -- "I'm just, wow ... Omigod."
But she didn't argue with her husband and friends who told her she looked beautiful. Soon she was right back to her self-deprecating self, making cracks like: "Well, no more bad hair days."
Like that, she was no longer just Mediocre Aunt Donna.
She was Bald Aunt Donna.
And as she said as she posed for a snapshot with Townsend and Grace and stroked her scalp, "It feels good."
So far, Fahey's event raised about $2,500. For more information: www.stbaldricks.org and www.amiraclefortaylor.com