2010 PMC - Another Step In the Battle Against Cancer - Please Help

In 2010, 1.5 million deaths from cancer are predicted in the U.S. 157,000 in California. 36,000 in Massachusetts. 28,000 in Maryland. 101,000 in Texas.

The 5-year relative survival rate for all cancers diagnosed between 1999-2005 is 68%, up from 50% in 1975-1977.

So we’re making progress in the war on cancer, but we’re not winning – we have yet to experience a world without cancer.

On the first weekend of each August, I ride in the Pan-Mass Challenge (PMC), a two-day, 192-mile cycling event that raises money for life-saving cancer research and treatment at the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute. The Pan-Mass Challenge has grown tremendously over time – since its inception more than 30 years ago, the event has raised $270 million. In last year’s extremely challenging  economic climate, the PMC made the third largest gift in its history, more than $30 million. For the last three years, 100 percent of every rider-raised dollar went directly to Dana-Farber, an unparalleled accomplishment for any philanthropic organization. This year’s goal is to raise $31 million, critical to sustaining the cutting edge cancer technology developed and offered at Dana-Farber.

I take this challenge seriously, and I want to be a part of the effort to search for a solution. I hope you want to be part of it too. For my part, I will send out letters to raise money, train hard, and ride 192 grueling miles in the heat of the Massachusetts summer. For your part, I’m asking you to make a pledge to the cause.

You can donate securely online by credit card at http://www.pmc.org/egifts/default.asp - my egiftID is EK0035. Your tax-deductible check can be made payable to “The PMC”  and sent to me at 4435 Caminito Tecera, Del Mar, CA 92014.  If you do nothing else you can think about me on August 7 and 8 – neither pedaling nor making a difference will likely come easily.

Somewhere on the road between Sturbridge and Provincetown, a cancer-free world will become a reality. Thank you for helping create it.

Ellen

Masada: Dead Rocks 1,400 ft. above a Dead Sea

Wenesday we went to Masada, a rock plateau that looms 1,400 ft. above the Judean Desert floor (1,100 ft. above sea level). The fortress at Masada was originally built by Herod so the ruins have all the makings of a minor community....if communities logically operated on isolated mesas in the middle of deserts. But Masada earned its fame as the refuge of a group of Jewish rebels against the Romans nearly two thousand years ago. The short version is that the Romans laid siege, it took them a year, the Jews preferred self-inflicted death to Roman submission and that was that.

We chose to climb to the top rather than take the cable car - not so many steps as we usually get in, but each one was worth a lot! The path snakes (possibly why it's called the Snake Path) so the views alternate between the mountain and the Dead Sea...with its backdrop of the western mountains of Jordan.








As I climbed, I kept imagining what the Romans would have been thinking: "darn Jews, why did they need to take refuge SO high?? And why do I need to schlep all this stuff just to lay siege to people who can't go anywhere anyway? Couldn't we just camp on the side of the mountain and let nature take its course?" But our ascent was sunny, not too cold, and we had no siege gear, so as a hike, it was nice.

Perhaps I had an overly fantastical expectation of what Masada itself would be like. I certainly did not expect the moonscape that is the reality. But talk about a view - out across the Dead Sea all the way to Jordan. The Israeli flag is a nice touch. Must have been really nice in the late 1940s and early 1950s when Jordan wasn't exactly thrilled about the existence of Israel.




The way the Masada story ends is that the Romans built a ramp so that they could reach the walls and wreak their usual destruction. Again, I imagined something rather elaborate and clever - they took a year to get there!! So when I saw the huge dirt pile on the side, it did not register to me that the dirt pile was THE achievement of Masada, the famous ramp. I suppose 2,000 years ago, the simple feat of moving that much dirt and rock was a big deal.

Walking down the Snake Path was easier aerobically than the ascent, but a bit tough on knees and quads. We pretty much had the place to ourselves by then, which made for an oddly and eerily peaceful descent.

Two Cities and Four Millenia

(Originally posted 24 Jan 2010)

It was a dark and stormy night….but that came later.

Spending a day in Israel with my brother (Paul), sister-in-law (Pam) and niece (Noa), we began with a walk to the Old City to visit the Temple Mount. This place, with its four thousand-year history, is one of the most contested 35.5 acres on the planet. I had pretty high expectations as I walked by the plastic riot shields strategically placed on the walkway past security. I was struck by the separation feeling of walking by (and above) Jews praying at the Western Wall onto Temple Mount, controlled by an Islamic Waqf. What is holiness? There's nothing remarkable about the Temple Mount. The al-Aqsa Mosque isn’t pretty, it isn’t even majestic. Non-Muslims are barred entry to it and the Dome of the Rock – selective holiness? I listened to a tour guide say the Dome of the Rock is, in fact, in direct contravention of Mohammed’s dictum that money should not be wasted on temples. Apparently the $8.2 million spent by King Hussein in 1998 to purchase the 80 kg of gold for the latest dome refurbishment was critical. Apparently holiness doesn’t prohibit either trash burning on or general trashing of Temple Mount. Apparently holiness doesn’t extend to taking care of this tree section, which has been carbon dated to the time of the First Temple, built by King Solomon about three thousand years ago. Maybe holiness is what you make of it.

Pam and I walked to the Central

Bus Station in spite of the forecast for rain and thunderstorms in Tel Aviv. Paul and Noa went home for a productive day of study and work in the warm, sunny Jerusalem apartment. Except for driving past burned out remains of military transport left on the side of a major highway, the east to west bus trip was an uneventful hour.

Tel Aviv shows every bit of the four thousand year difference from where we began the day. As secular as Jerusalem is religious, as modern as Jerusalem is old, as wide open as Jerusalem is narrow. Pam, an ace after living here for five days, took me on a whirlwind tour. With no map, we headed directly from the bus station onto Levinski St. courtesy of Ruth, a lovely young

woman who guided us to her favorite spice shop. As we were the only people, we were showered with the proprietor’s enthusiastic pride in his custom-made spice blends and procured a delightful selection. My quinoa will be well-spiced when I return home, and I’ll need to keep yogurt at the ready by any dish in which I include the chili powder – it’s about a 9/10.

Continuing on our mapless way, we roamed through

Neveh Tzedek (trendy) and the Carmel Market (Whole Foods just DREAMS about produce this good and fresh) to visit Serge and Michael, the hosts of the bed & breakfast with whom Paul, Pam and Noa stayed last month.

How Serge’s face positively lit up when he opened the gate is testament to Pam’s ability to connect with people. In spite of the lovely invitation to stay, we could not tarry and moved on.

Another key difference from Jerusalem is that Tel Aviv is on the ocean. So it has a beach. A beautiful beach. But unlike the beaches of Southern California, even on a winter’s day, there were no crowds. There were hardly any people. True, the wind was blowing above 30 knots, which made walking a bit….refreshing. And, like all winds, it was directly against us. But the windsurfers and kiteboarders were in heaven.

We finally clawed our way into Jaffa and stopped for a delicious pre-lunch gelato. Life is short, eat dessert first. We asked the store clerk for directions to Puaa, our lunch restaurant destination. “Go down this street past the clock tower, at not the first street but the second, turn left and ask the people there, they’ll direct you.” So we did. At the furniture shop, we then asked a woman how to find Puaa. “Go straight, at not the first street but the second, turn right and ask the people there.” So we did. We went through this same scene two more times and deep in the heart of Jaffa we found Puaa! We then enjoyed possibly the best two dishes we’ve had – lentils & rice and pumpkin dumplings in curry sauce.

More wanderings took us through trendier upscale neighborhoods and a West Village-like (NYC) shopping street before succumbing to weariness reflective of the 30,000 steps (~15 miles) we’d trod and taking buses all the way home (intra-Tel Aviv, TA to Jerusalem, and intra-Jerusalem). On the bus back to Jerusalem, a nice 41-year old Israeli named David used the 20-something boy next to him to talk to us and invite me to go with him for a drink the next night. Given that he didn’t particularly speak English, and I certainly don’t speak Hebrew, I had a difficult time imagining even what the cultural benefits could be. Pam, supportive as ever, made sure to get his phone number. Oy.

There are, of course, similarities between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, but Tel Aviv produces extremes - the chazzerei in Jaffa is junkier, the produce in Carmel Market is oversize and beautiful (that may be a Tel Aviv thing – even the bagels are huge!), and the rebuilding/renovation appears be conducted at a furious pace. Both cities have intense energy. But Jerusalem looks to the past. Tel Aviv looks to the future. God doesn’t choose. But I think s/he’d prefer to live in Tel Aviv.