A Dedication Through Three Stories

When we announced the idea of a community cookbook to raise money for cancer, the recipes began coming in immediately.  People would stop us in the street with tears in their eyes, thanking us for doing this project and telling us about a family member or friend with cancer.  Others would send emails – brief but to the point.  “Both of my parents died of cancer – thank you for taking on this project.”  “I have breast cancer, your project may make the difference in finding a cure so my children don’t have to go through what I have.” “I am sending you this recipe which was my mother’s, she died of cancer and every time I make this recipe, I think of her.”  Three stories stood out and we relay them here.

One comes from the mother of one of the Cookbook Committee members.  She is from France and had a very close friend there named Maryvonne.  "We used to ski and take vacations together.  When I left for the U.S. we continued to write and see each other when I traveled back.  She got married and had a baby boy.  When he was seven she developed a very aggressive form of breast cancer.  Her husband left her and their child.  She fought very hard to be able to take care of her son but the illness took her away two years later.  She died at the age of 39, leaving her 9 year old boy alone.  Since her husband did not want to take care of their son, her parents who were already in their 70s, took care of the child.  He is now 20 and is a brilliant student at the University of Brest in France and wants to become a medical doctor.  Thank you for all your efforts."        

          From another community member came this story: “I lost both of my parents to cancer much too soon. They were Polish immigrants who had been in work camps and came to this country for a better life. They instilled in me a passion for living a good life, and the joys of communal meals with family and friends. Unfortunately, many of the recipes I grew up with are labor intensive (not considered heart healthy these days), but here are a few tried and true recipes from our home.  Thank you.”  

            The third story is my family’s story:  On a beautiful spring day last year, my uncle collapsed on the soccer field.  He didn’t tell my aunt until he started feeling worse that night and she made him go to the hospital.  Within hours, a doctor told him he had brain cancer.  Our lives have not been the same since.

            My Aunt and Uncle moved to our neighborhood with my young cousins about eight years ago.  They became part of our community very quickly, and everyone got to know and love them.  When our community found out that Uncle Dan (as all my friends knew him) had cancer, they did everything that they could to help him from bringing food to walking with him around the neighborhood to keep him healthy.

           My uncle was someone to admire.  He had just turned 40, he had run marathons, and he was one of those people that everyone felt comfortable to be around.  He always thought about others before himself.  He loved family, loved nature, loved Jelly Beans, loved soccer, and especially loved to watch us compete in various sports.  He came to support us in our swim meets in 100-degree weather, he came to my gymnastics meet in really smelly gyms, and he went to my brother’s track meets in faraway places.  He had a great sense of humor and could always make you laugh.  I loved my uncle very much.

           Throughout the summer he tried to live his life as normally as he could, trying not to let the cancer affect what he used to do.  While going through chemotherapy and radiation therapy he came to our swim meets where my cousins, brother and I, and many other friends competed.  He had to wear big, soft hats (which I think he chose for their unique qualities), but he would always come and do his best to cheer us on.

            In the fall, when the pool held a large flea market, a group of swim team swimmers helped put together a haunted pool house.  After the first hour – every kid that went through it joined up to make it scarier for the next kids.  We had face paintings, sold food, read palms, and had cakewalks.  It started as a one-day event, but two weekends later we had made $800, which we donated to the American Cancer Society.  Everyone from the smallest of kids who “scared” victims as they walked by in the dark, – to an important scientist who sat on the pool’s bathroom floor grabbing legs of “victims” participated.  I think a lot of people helped because they felt helpless and did not know what to do for Dan.  At least this way they could show their support.

            In the winter, Uncle Dan got worse.  The chemo and radiation didn’t work and he started a drug trial.  It worked for a short while, but then the cancer came back.  He started a different treatment.  Each time he tried a new treatment he got weaker and had various side effects, yet he wanted to go on and help doctors researching cancer to find a cure.  By early spring he had to go to the hospital because he was so weak and sick.  We would go to see him at the hospital.  Some days he could talk, some days he could only squeeze hands, some days he just slept.

            On May 18th, Uncle Dan’s birthday, my aunt brought him home from the hospital because he had fought long and hard enough.  We had a big party for him, we all stopped by his room and wished him happy birthday, but he slept.  The next morning he died, one year exactly to the day the doctors had guessed that he had a year to live.

            I miss him.

Our committee would like to dedicate this cookbook to all families that have been touched by cancer in hopes that the money we will raise for research may help to find a cure.

Dana Simms

Editor-in-Chief