(09.30.06) Recommends:

Horse Feathers, "Words Are Dead" (Lucky Madison, 2006).

Even though this album was only released on September 26, and even though I have only listened to the album twice all the way through, I am willing to say that it will end up on most critic's Best of 2006 lists. This album features banjos, mandolins, fiddles, etc. But it also has a certain indie rock feel to it. If you like Sufjan Stevens, Iron and Wine, M. Ward, or good music generally, you will instantly love this album.

Their myspace.
Their label.

(09.29.06) Recommends:

Old 97s, "Hit By A Train: The Best of the Old 97s" (Elektra, 2006).

A Greatest Hits record is like a band on life support. And watching a band like the Old 97s on life support is strange, since anybody who saw the 97s live knows they are one of the great live acts of their generation. I hope this is the last 97s record ever. It would be a nice ending. The 97s are a young man's band, and the 97s are no longer young. They are older, and married, and have kids. Rhett Miller, the main force behind the band, is off trying to make a name for himself with increasingly interesting solo records. And anyway, you can't blow the roof off a shitty, smoke-filled bar, populated by college kids with stomachs full of Free State Oatmeal Stout, in Lawrence, KS at 2am on a Wednesday when you are old, and have a wife and a kid. But this album is the perfect ending to the 97's legacy. Live, Rhett Miller is a born rock star, playing the 200-person capacity Bottleneck in eastern Kansas as if it were a sold-out Madison Square Garden. But, first and foremost, this band is about the songs. While fans will quibble with the precise selections of songs for the album, the arrangement has a nice distribution from their first five albums. And what is particularly striking about the songs, of course, are the lyrics. I have no doubt that at some point in his career, Rhett Miller will write a novel, and he'll finally receive the writing credit he is due. [Rhett Miller actually made a contribution to Issue 12 of McSweeney's, the influential literary journal.] This band is truly one of the great mysteries to me. How they never became one of the most popular bands on the planet is completely beyond me. Fifty years from now disaffected suburban middle schoolers will be carving Rhett Miller lyrics into their school desks. Fifty years from now music critics will be listing "Too Far To Care" as one of the essential albums of the 90's and "Satellite Rides" as on of the essential albums of the 00's. Fifty years from now critics will list Rhett Miller as one of the essential song writers of his generation. For now, we should all go out and buy this record. Because just maybe, even though it's well past the time when the Old 97s could put on a show like they did in their prime, the band could exit the stage with a commercially successful album. I really hope it happens this time.

September 29, 2006 - Access Point

Last night, I was up at New Brunswick Theological Seminary, for my weekly teaching stint (I teach a course called “Presbyterian Studies,” for Presbyterian ministerial candidates enrolled in that Reformed Church in America seminary). During the chapel service, the worship leader invited the assembled faculty and students to offer sentence prayers – brief, spoken intercessions.

Silently, I listened to the concerns raised by others. They were exactly the sort of items you’d expect to hear, in a seminary chapel service. There were general intercessions – for peace in the world, justice for the oppressed, safety for soldiers in Iraq, insight in academic study. There were also some specific prayer requests: first names of people, along with brief explanations of their circumstances. Someone had just lost a spouse, someone else was unemployed, still another person was hospitalized.

Then, someone offered prayer for “people who have cancer.” Suddenly, the service got very, very personal for me. I’d been letting the words of the prayers wash over me, with a kind of detached interest. When I heard those words, I found myself in a different place. I wasn’t just praying. I was being prayed for.

The man who voiced this concern surely wasn’t thinking of me, in particular. I’m an adjunct professor – a visiting firefighter, who teaches his class, then goes home. That makes me a virtual stranger to most of the seminary community. Of those who do know me, only a few are aware of my recent medical history. The man who offered this prayer for cancer patients probably started out with someone altogether different in mind, and kindly extended his concern to embrace others.

I was touched, all the same. I smiled to myself, realizing that the people to my left and right probably had no idea they were praying for me, as they joined their thoughts to those of the speaker.

We have a wireless access point in our house, allowing various computers to log onto the Internet. Anyone who turns on a laptop, within the limited range of that antenna, can make use of the connection. Because the device includes a built-in hardware firewall, I haven’t felt the need to enable its password-protection feature. I figure that anyone who should happen to power on a laptop in a car outside our house is welcome to ramp onto the information superhighway, toll-free. If whole cities, like Philadelphia, are equipping their business districts with free, wireless Internet access, then why shouldn’t I offer a similar gift to the universe?

I was on the receiving end of a similar kind of generosity last night, in the seminary chapel. That sentence prayer was like a wireless access point. I found myself in range, so I connected.

Reflecting on the experience of prayer, Roberta Bondi likens it to family ties:

“We often have a kind of notion, as part of this highfalutin’, noble picture of ourselves as pray-ers, that when we pray we need to be completely attentive and we need to be fully engaged and we need to be concentrating and we need to be focused. But the fact is, if prayer is our end of a relationship with God, that's not the way we are with the people we love a large portion of the time. We simply are in their presence. We're going about our lives at the same time in each other's presence, aware and sustained by each other, but not much more than that… However we are, however we think we ought to be in prayer, the fact is we just need to show up and do the best we can do. It's like being in a family.”

It just goes to show – when we are so bold as to offer up a prayer to God, we never know who may be in range.

(09.28.06) Recommends:

Alden Penner, various live recordings.

So, yesterday I mentioned the rise and fall and rise again of 2 of the 3 Unicorns, which may lead one to reasonably question whatever became of the third member. The music of that member, Alden Penner, certaintly warrants its own recommendation. When my mind is working in cliches, it thinks that if the Unicorns were Uncle Tupelo, Nicholas Thorburn (aka Nick "Neil" Diamond aka the one who went on to form Islands) would play the role of superstar rockstar Jeff Tweedy, and Alden Penner would be the quiet genius, true-to-his-craft artist, Jay Farrar. As with the UT splitup, where people who report on such matters allege that Tweedy and Farrar wanted to go different directions, the path that Penner has taken is different, but worth listening to, especially because it drives home the point that there was some serious talent when the Unicorns were together. His music is much sparser now. It's a mixture of Appalachian porch music, and Irish pub music. Recent shows have featured just him on guitar and another person on fiddle.

Or, maybe this Tweedy/Farrar theory is contrived from endless listens to some of his live stuff available on The Secret Unicorns forum. The bootleg section has a nice selection of live Penner tracks (click on his picture to get to his tracks). My personal favorite, and the reason for this entry, is Untitled 3, from the CKUT 90.3 FM Radio Sessions. It is a nice song to listen to as you are falling asleep. So hurry up and download the track quickly, because the bootleg section of the website is only open for a few days each month, today being on of those days.

(09.27.06) Recommends:

The Lovely Feathers, "Hind, Hind Legs" (Equator, 2006).

Today, three recommendations for the price of one. A musical tripartite, if you will. Many (most?) good stories begin in Canada and feature mythical creatures. This recommendation-cum-story will be no exception.

Chapter 1: Unicorns Are Forever.
In late 2003, the Montreal-based band The Unicorns released the album Who Will Cut Our Hair When Were Gone? This album is hard to describe, so Ill settle on this: it is clearly one of the greatest pop/rock records released since the time of Mozart. Was Mozart a purveyor of pop/rock records? The answer, found in two seconds on Google or wikipedia is, undoubtedly, yes. WWCOHWWG? is strange and quirky and beautifully crafted and just fucking brilliant pop music. It features -- again, undoubtedly, here -- the greatest rock flute solo of all time. For years I have struggled with this question: Did the Unicorns, as a result of their finely-honed musical chops, intentionally create this album? Or did they merely stumble upon brilliance? Listen, and decide for yourself.

Chapter 2: Unicorns Aren't Forever, After All.
So, by 2005 the Unicorns were so 2004. As in, i.e., they broke up. But, as Unicorns arent completely real in the first place, so it was with the breakup: roughly 2/3rds of the original members went forth to form the Montreal-based band Islands. Islands released the infinitely listenable Return to the Sea in the first half of 2006. This album was released by Equator Records, a new-to-me record label out of -- you guessed it -- Montreal.

Chapter 3. Islands Might Not Be Forever, Either, But Luckily Equator Has Other Bands On Its Roster.
So, by the second half of 2006, the drummer of Islands has quit, but the band marches on, carrying with it still roughly 1/3rd of the original members of the Unicorns. There was a long stretch in 2006 when my car stereo was exclusively playing Return to Sea. As such, I kept the CD case on the front passenger seat, which caused me to notice the Equator Records logo on the back of the CD. Knowing that unicorns are not so much real, and Unicorns are no longer, and Islands are definitely real, but may or may not be longer [due to (a) departure of drummer and (b) global warming], I was curious whether Equator Records was real, and if so, whether it was still in business. Friends! Equator is Alive, and this album Hind, Hind Legs is great. (As an aside, Equator may or may not be run by former, current, or future members of Islands nee Unicorns). Its more of that Canada freak-out music. A little more Wolf Parade than Unicorns [I would recommend Wolf Parades full-length proper debut here as well, but, much like the Shop At Home Network, four recommendations for the price of one would quite literally bring upon me financial ruin.], but more Unicorns than Frog Eyes. All and all, it's a good album by a band that's getting out there and creating interesting things. And is there really anything more we can ask from a band?



Note: To the first person who can correctly name the Kansas City venue at which the Unicorns performed in the Spring of 2004, goes a copy of "Do They Know Its Hallowe'en," the UNICEF-commissioned (& fund raising) Halloween theme song penned by some of the Unicorns/Islands boys and additionally featuring the following individuals, bands, or individual members thereof: Arcade Fire, Wolf Parade, Devendra Banhart, Beck, Buck 65, Dessert, Elvira (Mistress of the Dark, late of Manhattan, KS), Les Savy Fav, Rilo Kiley, Sloan, Smoosh, David Cross, Feist, Sex Pistols, Peaches, Postal Service, Sonic Youth, Sum 41, Yeah Yeah Yeahs. There are even more contributors, but if I type more, your head will probably explode from too much awesomeness.

(09.26.06) Recommends:

Rogue Wave, "Descended Like Voltures" (Sub Pop, 2005).

This album is not new, though good it most certainly is. It's an atmospheric, pop-rock, indie-folk-punk type of record. I've been listening to it a lot lately because the band is holding a benefit concert Saturday, September 30, at the Independent in San Francisco (the band is from the city as well), and the show is the real thing that I am recommending (though, once you start listening to this record, you will constantly come back to it over the months and years). It turns out the drummer needs a kidney transplant. So, they've gotten some friends together and are playing a benefit to raise money for medical expenses.

Guests include:
*Ben Gibbard, from Death Cab For Cutie
*John Vanderslice
*Ryan Miller, from Guster
*Matthew Caws, from Nada Surf
*MC of the event San Francisco resident Daniel Handler, dba NY Times best selling author Lemony Snicket
*"Other Special Guests"

As to who the OSGs could be, I would just like to throw out there that on the afternoon of the benefit, just down the 101 from the Independent, Shoreline Amphitheater will be hosting Download Fest 2006, featuring, among others, Rogue Wave, label-mates The Shins, TV on the Radio, Beck, Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Let the internet speculation begin.

If you are not in the Bay Area, but would like to make a donation, go here.

Photokina

(09.25.06) Recommends:

+/-, the song "Steal the Blueprints" from "Let's Build a Fire" (Absolutely Kosher, forthcoming Oct, 24 2006).

I first heard this song on the most recent Absolutely Kosher podcast (the podcast of an interesting Berkeley-based label, which I will also recommend in this space, and can be heard here: http://absolutelykosher.blogspot.com/). The song can be heard via the podcast, or via the music video on the +/- website, http://plusmin.us/videos/video5.html. I'm just now being exposed to the band's body of work, so I don't know how this song compares with their older work, but I've been listening to this song on repeat a lot lately.

September 25, 2006 - Need to Know

The other day, Claire told me of a woman she knows, whose husband has cancer. Over the past year or so, the two of them have compared notes, sharing how their respective spouses have been doing.

Evidently, this man and I have different styles of coping with the disease. Claire describes my style as “researching it to death.” Her friend’s husband is different, a bit less direct. “Tell me what I need to know,” he typically says to his doctor. “The rest I don’t want to hear about.”

I’ve been thinking about Claire’s “researching it to death” description, ever since. It’s true. I’ll admit it: I have responded to the news of my diagnosis and treatment by trying to unearth as much information as I possibly could. Sometimes, to the point of obsession.

It’s not that I distrust the doctors. I’m not trying to second-guess anyone. At each decision-point in the treatment process, I’ve followed the doctors’ recommendations exactly. On the one occasion when there was a difference of opinion (between Dr. Lerner and Dr. Portlock over the advisability of post-chemo radiation treatments), I stepped back and let the two of them duke it out. Dr. Portlock – an internationally-known lymphoma specialist in a research hospital – had seniority, so her opinion prevailed. It never occurred to me to try to put my finger on the scale, to try to influence the outcome.

I may have learned some medical jargon along the way, but I’m under no illusion that I’ve achieved the slightest ability to weigh the pros and cons of treatment decisions myself. “Do not try this at home” is a rule that works for me.

Nor do I have much patience with alternative therapies – rumors about the latest vitamin craze, that sort of thing. Yes, cancer is a complex and mysterious disease, but there are also vast amounts of human and material resources being devoted to research. Should I value some whispered product endorsement from some non-medical person, over the results of cancer trials from places like Memorial Sloan-Kettering and the University of Pennsylvania Hospitals? I don’t think so!

But still, I’ll continue to read, to web-surf, to attend conferences, so I may find out all I can about this fast-changing field.

I have a need to know, you see.

(09.24.06) Recommends:

Antarctica Takes It!, "The Penguin League" (Self-released, 2006).

In keeping with the "kids-in-college-making-fun-music" theme, today I recommend Antarctica Takes It! You can buy the album for a mere six bucks via the mailing address on their myspace page. There, you can also listen to three of the songs for free (http://www.myspace.com/antarcticatakesit). The songs are upbeat, folky, poppy. If the band claimed to be from Montreal or Brooklyn, I'm sure you'd have listened to them by now. Instead, they're in Santa Cruz, Calif. home of one the the most wonderful college campuses I have ever seen. The young are the future of our country. So, go forth and listen to ATI! today.

(09.23.06) Recommends:

Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin, the song "Anne Elephant" from the album "Broom" (Self-released, 2006).

I'm sure you've heard the old adage, "sometimes you have to travel 1,800 miles to appreciate what was right in front of your face the whole time." This happened to me this summer, when I received an email that a band, named after the former first president of Russia (look, I'm not a freaking scholar of Eastern Europe...I don't know what his title was, and frankly I don't care. All I know is that Ronald Reagan single-handedly tore down the Great Wall of China, and saved the world from Communism, and in the process helped spread White Castle hamburgers all over the Free World, so get off my back already.), was playing at one of my favorite venues in the City and County of San Francisco -- The Independent. The band, which I will refer to in shorthand as SSLYBY, is from Springfield, Mo. I wasn't sure what to think about the band until they broke out this song. Then I rejoiced. I might have even dried a stray tear as I recalled the land from which I came. In my defense, the band members look like they couldn't be older than 21, so it's not like I really ignored them while I was living so close to them. I'm pretty sure they were in middle school while I was still around. Regardless. Go to their myspace page (http://www.myspace.com/someonestillmusic) and fire up the song "Anne Elephant". Rumor has it a real live record label is going to re-release this album. If this is true, do the Ozark Mountain Music Scene a favor, and support this band.

(09.22.06) Recommends:

Irving, "Death in the Garden, Blood on the Flowers" (Eenie Meenie Records, 2006).

The title track sounds like it came from Liverpool in 1963. It's from LA in 2006. It's like cosmic rock. Psychedelic pop. Of Montreal and Beechwood Sparks. Hooks and harmonies and whirling background noises. The band is a "collective" which, wikipedia tells me, means all the members write the songs and share lead singing duties.

Also recommended: "The Curious Thing About Leather" from their 2003 EP "I Hope You're Feeling Better Now" (currently available for listening on the band's myspace page: myspace.com/irving) I almost fear recommending this song, because once you hear it you'll have to listen to it on repeat for four straight weeks. Down with productivity! Up with Irving!

(09.21.06) Recommends:

The Long Winters, the song "Clouds" from the album "Putting the Days to Bed" (Barsuk, 2006).

Okay, so here's the thing about The Long Winters: I can never recommend an entire album, because there's always a hand full of songs that make me kind of cringe, or make me kind of bored. And that might prevent them from achieving huge widespread success. And that's a tragedy because they are, by far, one of the best live bands on the planet. Live, the songs that otherwise make me cringe, make me instead smile and dance, at least in my awkward white man dance style. John Roderick follows the voices in his head, and the world is a better -- better! -- place for it. The last time I saw them they opened for The Fiery Furnaces in a tiny basement bar in the City and County of San Francisco. And god bless The Fiery Furnaces, but there was nothing they could have done to prevent from being completely overshadowed by the show put on by The Long Winters. So, maybe you'll check out the new album or maybe you won't. No faulting either choice, really. But if this band is playing in your hometown, or within a reasonable distance of your hometown, and you pass up the show, you are making a terrible mistake. For those in the Bay Area, they play at Café Du Nord on October 13 (Barsuk label mates What Made Milwaukee Famous open the show).

(09.20.06) Recommends:

Ben Kweller, "Ben Kweller" (ATO, 2006).

It seems likely that at some point Ben Kweller will put out a bad record. But this is not it. This is a good record. People with ears should go out and buy this record. Note: You can also stay in and buy the record on e.g., your computer. This is also recommended.

Lessons from Aaron Siskind

September 18, 2006 - Hope on the Medical-Research Front

Today, in my e-mail inbox, I come across a link to an article about a new research development in the treatment of Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma. Evidently, there’s a new drug currently in clinical trials, called Epratuzumab. Used in combination with Rituximab (trade name, Rituxan – the drug I got along with my chemotherapy), Epratuzumab shows promise in the treatment of relapsed NHL patients.

I’m in remission now, and I hope that I’ll stay there for a very long time. Yet, from time to time the thought occurs that one day I could go for a scan, and the cancer will have come back. I’ve done a little reading, to find out what would likely be the next step, when and if it does.

I don’t think I’d receive the CHOP chemo cocktail I received before. Most patients, I’m told, only receive that combination once in a lifetime (in fact, I read somewhere that 8 doses of CHOP is the lifetime maximum; I received 6). With relapsed cases, the doctors typically try something different.

There’s always the possibility of stem-cell transplant, as well – which is basically a method that allows patients to be treated with very harsh chemotherapy drugs. These chemo drugs are so powerful that they completely destroy the immune system, and therefore – without some intervention – would indirectly kill the patient, who would succumb to another illness or infection. Accompanied by a stem-cell transplant, though (using either the patient’s own, self-donated stem cells, or cells from a compatible donor), these heavy-duty drugs can be made safe to use. The doctors can allow the chemo drugs to go ahead and take down the immune system, because they can then use the transplanted stem cells to re-create it.

Another option is radioimmunotherapy – most notably two drugs, Bexxar and Zevalin, that actually carry tiny, radioactive particles directly to cancerous cells.

I suppose there could also be the possibility of radiation therapy – although that’s not usually indicated as a primary treatment for NHL. If I get radiation, it would probably be as a follow-up to some other treatment.

Any one of those options – another round of chemotherapy, radioimmunotherapy, radiation, or megadose chemotherapy with a stem-cell transplant – is a daunting prospect. It’s encouraging to hear of another monoclonal antibody treatment, similar to Rituxan, that shows real promise.

The world of NHL treatment is changing constantly. However far into the future my remission may last, when and if I do relapse, I will face an expanded array of treatment options. And that’s encouraging.

September 17, 2006 - Seafood Festival

Today, I walk a short distance down the street to the Point Pleasant Beach Seafood Festival – the biggest civic event of the year in our little town. The two busiest streets in our downtown business district are closed off, and lined with various booths offering craft items and non-profit organization literature. There's an entertainment stage as well, but by far the biggest draw is the booths sponsored by local seafood restaurants – of which, as a beachfront resort community, we've got many.

The closed-off streets are packed with people: so many, it's hard to walk. In a typical year, something like 40,000 people attend the Seafood Festival. This year's not so typical, because the event was postponed one day, due to the threat of rain (only a threat, as it turned out; yesterday was gorgeous, and would have been a perfect Festival day). The event got bumped to today, a Sunday – which caused its own set of problems for us in the churches.

It didn't occur to anyone from the Chamber of Commerce or the Borough Council to tell us, in the churches, that the rain-date starting time had been changed. (In past rain-out years, the Festival's started at noon – which was tough, but not impossible, for the churches.) This year's 10:00 start time took us by surprise. Knowing that, after 9:00 a.m. or so, there would be no parking places to be had within many blocks of the church, we made the decision late on Friday to cancel our 11:00 Sunday service. The 9:00 service was sparsely attended - by people who either live close enough to walk, or who got here just ahead of the onslaught.

Today, I'm feeling pretty angry at our municipal leaders, for blatantly overlooking the churches in their planning. In my sermon, I preach about the declining influence of churches in American life. There's a whole movement today, known as the emergent church movement, that shrugs and says "you can't fight City Hall" on this one: that churches had better just get used to the fact that the old era of civic religion in America is ended, and that our culture is careening headlong into secularism. We Christians had better start seeing ourselves, the emergent-church gurus warn, in a new way – before it's too late. The twenty-first century American church is not so much a valued community institution, as a mission outpost.

In the old days of civic religion – back when the Seafood Festival was known as “Big Sea Day” – elected officials wouldn’t have dreamed of closing the streets in front of churches on a Sunday morning, without someone at least picking up the phone and telling the churches what they proposed to do. Now, they just do it – with no apology and no explanation.

(Historical photo: "Big Sea Day," ancestor of the Seafood Festival)

Still, it's a beautiful day – so, after worship, I change into casual clothes and go walking into town. I rub elbows with a lot of people I know – which is no surprise, because we've lived here almost 16 years. Many of the people I encounter ask me how I'm feeling, or make some supportive comment like "You're looking good" (remembering, no doubt, the days when they saw the hairless me pushing a shopping cart through the supermarket, or dropping off a book at the library). With each new encounter, I repeat the news that I've just had a good 3-month checkup at the doctor's, and my scan results were good.

I realize there's a sort of time lag going on here. Close friends, family and church members have been able to observe my progress more closely. The medical news I'm sharing today feels like old news to me, but to the people I'm talking to, it's current.

I'm not complaining, of course. I'm glad they remembered to ask. A cancer diagnosis creates ripples throughout an entire community. The people who are further out from the point of impact are affected much later.


We're all connected, though. And that's a good thing.

Body size: K10D vs K100D

There is interest in several forums about how the K10D body compares to the K100D. Here are a series of photos that show both bodies side-by-side, with and without the K10D battery grip. These are personal photos that I took very quickly this morning, and I did not spend any time on the lighting, etc. However, I think they will give folks a general idea of the overall size and ergonomics of the K10D relative to the K100D (and previous *ist series cameras). Hope these photos are of help until you have a chance to hold the K10D for yourself.

I've heard some folks lament that the K10D is much bigger than the K100D. Obviously how a camera's size, weight and balance "feels" in your hand is a personal matter, and that's why it's so important to spend time handling an slr before buying it. Yes, the K10D body is approximately 3/8" wider and 3/8" taller than the K100D. However, most people who have held it will likely comment that it has a compact yet solid feel to it. And, even with the battery grip it still feels lighter and more manageable than other high-end slrs I have owned. I've added two photos at the end of this post that compare the K10D (with battery grip) next to my EOS 1D-MkII. Of course, these two cameras are targeted to two entirely different shooters. However, I think one perspective in viewing the K10D is not to immediately compare how much bigger it is versus an entry-level type of body (K100D), but how much smaller it is versus higher performance and more expensive bodies that offer advanced features including weather sealing.

September 11, 2006 - The Terror: Five Years Later

Today's the five-year anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. Yesterday, I shared my recollections of that day with the congregation in a sermon, "9/11: What Have We Learned?." Here's an excerpt:

I was sitting in the kitchen over at the manse, finishing my second cup of coffee and reading the newspaper, when Claire called from work. "Turn on the TV," she said. "I just heard something about an airplane hitting the World Trade Center."

I turned on the news, and there it was: those familiar images that are now burned deeply into our consciousness. Not long after, there came the pictures of the second airplane hitting the other tower. I had just spoken with Dottie and Diane, over in the church office, a few minutes before. They had heard the news on the radio. I called them back and said, "Come on over here. I think you need to see this. Let the answering machine take any calls. This is too important."

It seemed like the right thing to do. History was unfolding, minute by minute, and it didn't seem right for anyone not to see it. And besides – if truth be told – I didn't especially want to watch any more of it alone. It seemed like one of those times when people ought to be together.

A few minutes after Dottie and Diane came over, the three of us saw it: the collapse of the first tower, and then the second. Who would have thought such mighty works of engineering could come tumbling down so quickly, each floor collapsing onto the next? The sight was emotionally riveting, and absolutely horrifying, at the same time.

For some reason, that line from the first Star Wars movie came to my mind. Darth Vader has just deployed his dreadful weapon, the Death Star, to destroy the planet Alderan. Across the galaxy, Obi-Wan Kenobi sits up and takes notice. "I felt a great disturbance in the force," he says, "as if millions of souls cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced."

The human lives snuffed out in the twin towers were numbered in the thousands rather than the millions – but still, as we sat there and watched the towers fall, we could almost hear the cries of agony.

Late that afternoon, after Claire had returned home, she and I went down to the beach. We felt drawn there. Looking northward, into Monmouth County and beyond, we could see that smudge of smoke on the distant horizon: a dark plume, slanting to the eastward, as the prevailing winds slowly blew it out to sea.

The terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 were one of those events – like the assassination of President Kennedy, the first steps of Neil Armstrong onto the moon, and a handful of others – that call forth a vivid recollection of exactly what we were doing when the news came through. There are few events that touch so many lives, that are truly a common experience for people of our culture. Yesterday, I knew – as I stood in the pulpit and shared the details of what I was doing that morning five years before – that everyone in that room over the age of 9 or 10 had gone through something similar.

How different that is from the events I have been narrating in this diary! Yes, there is a sizeable community of cancer survivors, but we are a minority (and may we ever remain so!). Write about the thoughts and emotions connected with watching the twin towers fall, though, and everyone has a similar story. Among the many thoughts that come to mind is an awareness of our mortality.

This morning, I glance through a special insert that came in yesterday's newspaper, containing photos and brief biographies of dozens and dozens of people from central New Jersey who died in the attacks. Most of them were beginning an ordinary work day, in offices on the upper floors of the twin towers. Some were rescue workers, who courageously entered the buildings, passing so many others who were streaming out. A few were there by accident – like one man, a telephone installer, who had the singularly bad fortune of being called in to install equipment in the Cantor Fitzgerald offices. Had his work order been dated a day earlier or a day later, he would have survived.

Five years ago today, I didn’t know I had cancer. Had I gone for an ultrasound on September 11, 2001, I don’t know if the technician would have detected anything out of the ordinary – although it’s possible the tumor was slowly growing inside me, even then. The question is academic – because, whatever genetic switch is encoded into my DNA, causing certain lymphocytes to go malignant, it was already there. As I watched the live newscast of the collapse of the towers and wondered, along with everyone else, what it’s like to die, who knows if the switch had already been thrown?

So many things in life, we just don't know about. And so, we live by faith. The opening line of the Brief Statement of Faith of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) – which I shared with the congregation in my sermon yesterday – says it all:

"In life and in death, we belong to God."

New Euro Country Plate?

September 6, 2006 - Still in Remission

Late this afternoon, Claire and I drive over to Dr. Lerner’s office. After my port flush and blood draw, we take our seats in one of the small examining-rooms. Dr. Lerner comes in a few minutes later, opens my ever-thickening file, and begins poring over the reports from my PET and CT scans. He read the initial PET-scan results a few days ago, he tells us, but – due to the Labor Day holiday – he didn’t receive the reports from Friday’s CT scans until today.

Dr. Lerner confirms what I surmised earlier, from reading the PET-scan narrative report: I’m still in remission. The mass in my abdomen is still there, but it hasn’t changed in size since my previous scans (which were at the end of May). As for the nodule on the lung, it doesn’t appear to be of any concern – probably just some scarring from an earlier infection.

After viewing the abdominal mass on the second set of CT scans, the radiologist evidently went back and examined the PET-scan films in greater detail, then issued a supplementary report. That report does say there’s a possibility of some metabolic activity within what’s left of the mass, but it’s a very sketchy sort of conclusion. This is not uncommon with PET-scan results, Dr. Lerner tells us. He doesn’t think it’s at all significant, because the mass – which by now is likely only scar tissue – has not grown in size.

Is the radiologist genuinely concerned, after taking this second look at the test results? Or is he just being cagey – covering himself, legally, in the event that some future scan reveals a recurrence of cancer? For all the lab-coated practitioners of this modern alchemy would have us believe their conclusions are 100% objective, it turns out there’s still a certain amount of guesswork to it, after all. Is radiology, in some sense, an art as well as a science?

The bottom line, of course, is that this is very good news – although Dr. Lerner delivers it with the dispassionate objectivity of a true scientist. That’s OK with me. I don’t need a trumpet fanfare or a balloon drop. I sense Dr. Lerner to be, for all his soft-spoken precision and careful choice of words, a kind and caring man. He’s certainly done well by my case so far, and I’m grateful to him for that.


On my way out, the receptionist schedules me for another appointment, the week after Thanksgiving. I’m supposed to call the office a couple of weeks before then, to schedule another PET/CT fusion scan, and a series of regular CT scans. I’ll be back in the meantime, for my monthly port flush, but those will be quick, in-and-out visits – the oncological equivalent of getting an oil change.

As Claire and I leave the office, we walk arm-in-arm out to the car. Although this was the outcome we’d expected, it still feels good to have the weight lifted, once again. Three months from now, we’ll be going through this uncertainty all over again – as surely we will continue to do, for some considerable time to come. But that’s a worry for another day...