Joey, my oldest child, is six years old and already quite a clever creator. He can make houses out of sticks and boats out of cardboard boxes. He can build an entire city with toy blocks and crafty cabins with the same Lincoln Logs his daddy used more than 30 years ago. Most recently, Joey has been sharpening his skills with Lego.

Today, while his daddy built him a Lego jet, Joey constructed his own masterpiece. He called it his Cancer Center.

I wasn't around to hear Joey dedicate his building to such an important cause. But I heard about it after the fact when Joey offered me a mini-tour of the structure. I learned that the center has a helicopter landing pad and offices with windows for the employees. I was shown an emergency vehicle with its own system for taking blood from patients, rendering it healthy, and then returning it to the body. And then just as I wanted more -- more details, more specifics, more history on just why he built this cancer center -- Joey's attention moved elsewhere. And so I know nothing more about the cancer center sitting in the playroom of my house.

Cancer is no strange topic for Joey who has been along on my own cancer ride for the past two years -- so perhaps I am the inspiration for his architectural creation. But I suspect the real driving force behind Joey's latest project is the vacant land we passed yesterday. This land is the future site of a new cancer center in our city, and Joey probably heard me talking about the ground breaking ceremony that just took place. Regardless, cancer was on his mind this morning. And while the topic may be far from his mind now -- and I'm sure the building will be demolished by the day's end -- I am touched that for mere moments, Joey was invested in a noble cancer endeavor.