The Race for Research

I am writing this at a coffee shop, since we finally gave up on Earthlink a few days ago and now are internet-connection-less at home; we are in the progress of moving to AT&T and hopefully that will work better.

The big news is that Sunday is the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation's Race for Research. Last November, when the race occurred, Amy was newly diagnosed, and by chance I saw the flyer at Emory when I was having my mammogram. Amy couldn't walk with us, but she was there, and cheered us on; Lynsley made a sign, and we took pictures. Iain ran with Dan, and besides the neighbors, other friends of Amy and of Max were there. We weren't very organized, but I said to Lynsley, "Next year - T-shirts!"

So we actually have a team this year, and we sort of have T-shirts, thanks to a color inkjet printer and iron-on transfers from Office Depot - Amy is still waiting for a couple more, but I ran out and didn't have a chance to get to the store til now. But now I have them, and I'll print up more tonight.

At the Republican National Convention, Rudy Guiliani gave a talk in which he ridiculed Barack Obama's background as a community organizer. Setting aside how I feel about the two Presidential candidates, I was deeply disappointed that Mr. Guiliani chose to say what he did.

Community is really important. It's a ride to the doctor when your car breaks down, and someone to look after your kids when you can't get home from work on time. It's someone bringing you a meal when the doctor gives you really bad news and and going across the street late at night to ask someone for advice about whether or not your baby needs to go to the ER. It's the people who care about whether or not your street is safe from hazards, whether it is drug dealers or speeders or predatory lenders, and who can call 911 when you aren't home and can't. It's neighborhood watches and the Morningside Security Patrol. It's wine and cheese on a Sunday evening or a potluck at the end of summer or even guys playing guitars in the parking lot. Maybe in Rudy Guiliani's neighborhood no one does these things, but on my street we do. And it doesn't just happen.

And on Sunday, we'll be in the parking lot at Manuel's Tavern, and this year, we'll have T-shirts. They'll be hugs and photos, and this year, Amy will be walking with us. And when I'm dead, I would be honored to be identified as a community organizer.

See you Sunday. Let me know if you need a transfer for your T-shirt. Hot iron, no steam.