The American Dream

Last Thursday night I joined a few thousand other people at the South Street Seaport in a walk for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. Raising money for people with cancer is big business. There were all kinds of chotskies: walkers received balloons with little battery-operated lights inside, wrist bands and banners, race tags for your back, the whole shooting match. And there were the standard fund-raising incentives: tee-shirts and sweatshirts for those who met their donation quotas. Registration was smooth and efficient. It was obvious this event had not been thrown together.

The national sponsor for these walks is Brystol-Myers Squibb… no big surprise there. Squibb stands to profit if they find a cure for cancer, but will still make lots of money on their chemo drugs if they don't. This may sound like a rant against Corporate America. It's not. I too worked my share of long, hard hours to support the American Dream, and in turn was rewarded with paychecks, health insurance, vacation pay, and in a few cases, a 401K. I believed in the Dream and was successful in achieving it. I worked in advertising, so I learned that our economic system is structured so that anything that makes money to fuel the economy is a good thing. Making money off fund-raisers for research to cure life threatening diseases is certainly more noble than a lot of other enterprises.

But for the participants walking, this night was not about economics. It was about caring and support. The people I met were walking for personal reasons: either they were survivors, or they knew someone with Lymphoma or Leukemia. I was walking for a friend who's on his second round of chemo treatments. His lymphoma reoccurred less than a year from his first diagnosis and treatment. He walked too, slowly, surrounded by people who love him dearly and pray he will beat the odds.

Before we walked, there were the usual speeches and accolades for Bristol-Myers Squibb and all the corporate sponsors (whose logos were also plastered on team tee-shirts). Nobody seemed to be paying much attention to the speech making though. We were ready to light up our balloons and get the show on the road. As we made our way from the seaport to the Brooklyn Bridge the atmosphere was festive but subdued. Because the crowd was so large it was a slow procession. No shoving, no cutting ahead, lots of stopping and waiting for parties to catch up with each other. Cheerleaders shook their pompoms for us at the halfway mark and we took group pictures with our banner and balloons. It was a great night and I'm glad I was able to go.

But here's the thing: I want the researchers to find a cure for cancer. But when do we recognize that prevention of cancer would be a whole lot more practical? (Here comes the rant against Corporate America:) Nothing ever gets said about the toxins in our air, water or food. No mention ever of pesticides or genetic altering of crops, nothing about preservatives. We will not acknowledge that the cumulative effect of years of consuming poison does in fact cause disease. The very fact that cancer now strikes one in four Americans doesn't make us wonder why? No, because a huge part of our economy is fueled by corporate agriculture. In order to eat healthy, Americans must pay three to four times as much. Most of us either can't afford it or don't see the difference. We'd rather save that money and use it for something else. And prevention could be bad business for drug companies, not to mention healthcare agencies. It's like planned obsolescence with our products. We build things so they won't last so we'll have to spend money to buy new ones when they break. When does common sense get the better of an economic pattern that works only at the expense of the people it serves?

It wasn't until I was required to eat all-organic (that's what we eat here in Brewster) that I was able to chart the difference in my own body. No allergies, no asthma, weight's down, and I have more energy. Since mid August my system has been purging itself slowly of years of ignorant abuse. I feel better and the food tastes wonderful. Duh!