As dusk slowly settled on Des Moines on a sun-dappled Wednesday evening it was hard not to drink in the beauty and promise of spring. Daughter Zoey was graduating from Brownies to Junior Girl Scouts and I had walked to our church, which sponsors her troop, to watch a little ceremony and then help with a service project.
It was one of those perfect evenings: dozens of little ones were scurrying about trying to stay on a task they didn’t quite understand, digging holes and spreading dirt around and having a blast. I’m not sure who decided that elementary school children and garden tools are a winning combination but by the end of the evening, the Girl Scouts were covered in dirt.
As the event unfolded, troop leaders reminded the girls on several occasions that they needed to try to keep the noise at a minimum because a wake was being held in the church. I drop by the church daily: taking my kids to the parish school, attending mass on random mornings or dropping in for various neighborhood meetings. And there always seems to be a funeral going on, so I wasn’t all that surprised – or curious – about the services being held on Wednesday night.
But as I watched the girls work, I realized that I recognized many of the people entering the church for the prayer service. And then I realized that I knew exactly who had died and felt drawn inside.
Gina was a few years older than me and had been diagnosed with cancer a half-dozen years ago. From afar, it never seemed like she was getting any better, but it also never seemed like she was close to losing her fight, either. When I was diagnosed with melanoma, friends in the parish, after expressing their support for me, would almost always mention Gina’s battle and suggest that maybe I’d like to get to know her.
To be frank, it struck me as a tiny bit odd that people would think I might find some sort of benefit during my treatment in networking with other cancer patients. It happened often, and not just in regards to Gina. I tried to picture a kaffeeklatsch of cancer patients, sitting around in the neighborhood coffee shop comparing notes about our favorite anti-nausea remedies or sharing stories about gruesome side-effects that accompany aggressive treatment. It seemed silly to me and I never pursued these proposed friendships.
I am finishing my third round of chemotherapy this week. Just as there are a variety of forms of cancer, there’s also a variety of chemo. This one wasn’t so bad, five straight days of pills that I took at bedtime along with an anti-nausea medication. Every time I finish a course of treatment, I wonder if I am finally finished and if I have won.
On Thursday morning I got a phone call from my best friend, the kind of phone call I’ve been receiving from all sorts of people lately with damning frequency. He hoped to talk face to face, had some bad news to share. He was a bit cagey about what it was, but he told me enough to make it clear that some medical tests had been completed and he was now an official member of the cancer club, the worst fraternity on campus.
This round of chemo, in comparison to other treatments I’ve endured, wasn’t so bad. The pill I took usually put me to sleep fairly quickly, a blessing because another prescription, the steroid therapy, makes sleep practically impossible. The chemotherapy was the third step doctors have suggested to rid my brain of six tumors that were discovered last summer. First was old-fashioned surgery where they fished out the biggest growth. Then came radiation, where we spent a week using lasers to blast smaller tumors that were impossible to reach with a scalpel. A month ago I underwent round one of the chemotherapy; round two was completed a month ago. Round three was ordered last week and is going on right now..
This was significant because it means for the first time in months my active treatment is almost done. The chemo, and even the radiation, will keep working on the cancer. In a month or so we’ll go back in for an alphabet soup of x-rays and body scans: CT scans and PET scans and MRIs. That Continue Reading »
I’m a sucker for Red Velvet Cake and can’t believe I missed it for so many years. For all the talented bakers and terrific bakeries in N’West Iowa, we have suffered from a depressing shortage of Red Velvet over the years.
With that in mind, I offer to you the following recipe, which my wife is hinting that she will make for me on Feb. 14. Want some? Make you own. Recipe is after the jump: Continue Reading »
The N’West Iowa REVIEW was named Iowa’s Newspaper of the Year Friday night for the 14th time in the past 26 years. It’s a big honor and a tough award to win, particularly considering the fact that The REVIEW competes against the Des Moines Register, the Cedar Rapids Gazette, and some of the best weeklies newspapers in the state, like the terrific Iowa Falls Times-Citizen.
Frankly, my family and I are a bit worn out when it comes to the Iowa Newspaper Association awards, I think. Used to be fun to work hard all year putting together the best newspaper possible and then see how you compared with other newspapers in the state. The bottom line of the contest is that it is suppose to provide motivation to improve your newspaper, but instead it has led to a lot of envy from newspapers that don’t want to commit the resources but still want to win awards.
You can imagine how discomforting it was on Friday night when The REVIEW won first place in the first nine categories that were announced. It was almost a relief to take second place in coverage of business. The rules, too, have been twisted and turned so many times that the contest hardly just honors straight-forward journalism anymore. And with the emergence of the Internet as a tool to deliver information, that will continue to change.
None of that should take away from the solid work that Jeff Grant, Scott Byers, Derek Vander Waal, Myrna and Jeff Wagner and the rest of the staff did this year. I had a small role in the production of the newspaper writing my weekly column and the lede editorial. (The newspaper won first place for best editorial page and I won third place in the Master Columnist category.) But I don’t think I’d even wonder about how the newspaper stacks up if The REVIEW didn’t want to compete anymore.
Is there a N’West Iowan who doesn’t remember an older family member watching The Hour of Power with The Rev. Robert Schuller, Newkirk’s most famous native?
Maybe the Crystal Cathedral rings a bell. Unfortunate news: economic problems have resulted in layoffs and the sale of land, according to a spokesman for the Reform Church of America.
It started as a family joke: Facing snowballing medical expenses for their two young disabled children, Gregg and Brittiny Peters quipped they might need to sell everything they owned to stay solvent. As the bills tipped $10,000, however, the idea was no longer funny.
So on Thursday, the Gainesville, Ga., couple accepted a winning $20,000 eBay bid for all their belongings minus their house.
It came with one catch. The winning bidders, Donnia and Keith Blair of Texas, want the family to have the money, but keep their stuff.
The Republican National Committee chose Michael Steele, an African-American, as party chairman on Friday, putting a new face on a beleaguered party as it seeks the right posture to take on President Obama and an overwhelmingly Democratic Congress.
Confusion over election rules and the crush of Election Day business caused local officials to mistakenly disqualify numerous ballots that remain uncounted to this day, an elections expert testified Friday in the trial over Minnesota’s U.S. Senate recount.
President Obama’s pick for secretary of health and human services, Tom Daschle, failed to pay more than $140,000 in taxes, mostly for free use of a car and driver that had been provided to him by a prominent businessman and Democratic fund-raiser, administration officials said on Friday.





