Monday, December 10, 2007
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
An Out-of-the-Box Idea
By David Chorney
Turn on (the TV), tune in (the show), drop out (of sight). Talk on the cell phone, text-message, surf the Internet. The New Age mantra “Be here now” has been replaced with “Don’t be here now”. We Americans are using technology to stay at home, escape reality and neglect our relationships. Our homes are no longer our castles; they are our fortresses. We are trapped in the box.
Faith Popcorn is a consultant who tracks trends for businesses. According to the Popcorn Report, we are in our third decade of “cocooning”. We are ordering food to eat in, turning our homes into entertainment centers, communicating and buying through the Internet instead of in person, text-messaging instead of talking to people and in public, we tune out the world by listening to our iPods. We cocoon when we travel, taking our cars instead of public transportation. We pacify our children while driving by letting them watch the built-in DVD players in the backs of our minivans, creating cocoons within cocoons.
A recent 60 Minutes segment showed how all this technology has reached baroque proportions. For example, a cell phone is no longer just a phone. It is also a camera, an Internet connection, a text messenger, a computer, a TV and a music system, coming with a complicated owner’s manual that nobody can understand. We need to hire specialists to set up our 5.1-channel HDTV home theatre systems. FireDog and Geek Squad are doing a brisk business. There are now refrigerators with Internet connections.
The trouble with our preoccupation with all this technology is we are becoming a nation of loners and homebodies. In 2004, Americans had fewer friends to confide in than they did in 1985, falling by 30 percent from 2.94 to 2.06. 25 percent of Americans now have nobody at all with whom to discuss personal matters (Smith-Lovin, Duke University, 2006). At the same time television viewing increased dramatically. By the age of six, an average child will have spent more time watching television than talking with his parents over his entire lifetime.
We are becoming obese and isolated, missing out on life’s rich possibilities. There are so many other things that we could be doing instead of watching television. There are beautiful parks to walk in, with biking trails. There are free concerts. There are clubs that you can join. You can learn to dance or cook exotic cuisine. Go to the zoo, or visit Ano Nuevo and see the elephant seals. Best of all, you can bring a friend or your family with you. At the end of the day, you will find these activities far more rewarding than TV.
We do not need to give up our modern conveniences. We need to stop letting them run our lives and get out more often. Being here now will be a memorable experience that can be achieved only outside the box.
Turn on (the TV), tune in (the show), drop out (of sight). Talk on the cell phone, text-message, surf the Internet. The New Age mantra “Be here now” has been replaced with “Don’t be here now”. We Americans are using technology to stay at home, escape reality and neglect our relationships. Our homes are no longer our castles; they are our fortresses. We are trapped in the box.
Faith Popcorn is a consultant who tracks trends for businesses. According to the Popcorn Report, we are in our third decade of “cocooning”. We are ordering food to eat in, turning our homes into entertainment centers, communicating and buying through the Internet instead of in person, text-messaging instead of talking to people and in public, we tune out the world by listening to our iPods. We cocoon when we travel, taking our cars instead of public transportation. We pacify our children while driving by letting them watch the built-in DVD players in the backs of our minivans, creating cocoons within cocoons.
A recent 60 Minutes segment showed how all this technology has reached baroque proportions. For example, a cell phone is no longer just a phone. It is also a camera, an Internet connection, a text messenger, a computer, a TV and a music system, coming with a complicated owner’s manual that nobody can understand. We need to hire specialists to set up our 5.1-channel HDTV home theatre systems. FireDog and Geek Squad are doing a brisk business. There are now refrigerators with Internet connections.
The trouble with our preoccupation with all this technology is we are becoming a nation of loners and homebodies. In 2004, Americans had fewer friends to confide in than they did in 1985, falling by 30 percent from 2.94 to 2.06. 25 percent of Americans now have nobody at all with whom to discuss personal matters (Smith-Lovin, Duke University, 2006). At the same time television viewing increased dramatically. By the age of six, an average child will have spent more time watching television than talking with his parents over his entire lifetime.
We are becoming obese and isolated, missing out on life’s rich possibilities. There are so many other things that we could be doing instead of watching television. There are beautiful parks to walk in, with biking trails. There are free concerts. There are clubs that you can join. You can learn to dance or cook exotic cuisine. Go to the zoo, or visit Ano Nuevo and see the elephant seals. Best of all, you can bring a friend or your family with you. At the end of the day, you will find these activities far more rewarding than TV.
We do not need to give up our modern conveniences. We need to stop letting them run our lives and get out more often. Being here now will be a memorable experience that can be achieved only outside the box.
New Strategies in the Cancer War
By David Chorney
More than thirty years after President Richard Nixon declared war on cancer, we are finally beginning to see results. In 1971, cancer researchers were barely able to discern the characteristics of cancer cells. The war is finally beginning to pay off, with the last ten years yielding promising results from drug research. Now, therapies that target cancer are coming to the market. Overall, survival rates have risen from 50 percent to 64 percent. New drugs in trials have saved some people with no hope.
The traditional therapy regimen of surgery, chemotherapy and radiation has proven indiscriminant. The hope in traditional therapy is that the cancer cells will be destroyed faster than healthy cells and that the cancer will be killed before the patient. There are other drawbacks. Surgery, ironically, can speed the spread of cancer, cancer cells are able to adapt to chemotherapy and radiation is often ineffective. The patient suffers severe side effects and will likely live with chronic health problems. Traditional chemotherapy drugs are derivatives of mustard gas. Traditional therapies will nonetheless still be used for the foreseeable future, since improved radiation techniques and chemotherapy agents have increased survival rates.
To find safer and more effective therapies, researchers must improve their understanding what differentiates cancer from normal cells. Why do cancer cells reproduce endlessly? Why do they mutate uncontrollably? What enables cancer cells to divide at such a rapid rate? What other factors contribute to the growth and spread of cancer? It is now known that telomeres, genes at the end of a cell’s DNA chain, control the number of times that a cell can divide. Cancer suppressor genes have been discovered, such as P53 that correct mutations during cell division. The answers found so far open the door to other types of drugs.
New classes of drugs now target cancer cells. Some drugs target enzymes that control cell growth. Gleevec works by stopping a protein called tyrosine kinase. While generally having fewer side effects than traditional therapies, the newer drugs are not miracle cures. Currently, the majority of these new drugs increase life expectancy by only weeks or months. And drug companies have more incentive to develop “blockbuster” drugs that are taken over a lifetime.
Genetic factors are being studied to use the newer drugs more effectively. The newer drugs target specific genes, requiring that they be tailored accordingly. In the future, cancers will be described according to genetic factors, rather than location. For the time being, the newer drugs are given using a hit-or-miss approach.
An unlikely individual, Dr. Judah Folkman, conceived another class of drugs. Not being an oncologist, he nonetheless observed the growth of blood vessels that nourish cancer cells, leading to the theory that cancer cells caused their growth. If cancer cells secrete a substance to cause blood vessel growth could this process be disrupted? Angiogenesis inhibitors are being developed and tested as a class of drugs that do not attack cancer cells, but rather prevent the proliferation of blood vessels that cancer needs to grow.
Vaccines unleash the body’s immune system against cancer in the same manner as against viruses. Unlike a virus, cancer consists of the patient’s own cells. The immune system is too slow to recognize cancer cells. The cancer cells are taken from the patient, and antigens are extracted from the cancer cells. The antigens are injected into the patient, and the immune system can then target cancer cells. Currently, vaccines cannot stimulate the immune system to kill all cancer cells. Not all cancer cells have antigens that distinguish cancer cell from healthy cells.
Gene therapies are
Improved and earlier detection are paying off in a big way. Survival rates have improved the most for breast, colon, prostrate and lung cancers.
The science of oncology has made much progress since Nixon’s declaration of war on cancer, but there is still much work to be done. But the outlook is encouraging, with many new drugs in trials.
More than thirty years after President Richard Nixon declared war on cancer, we are finally beginning to see results. In 1971, cancer researchers were barely able to discern the characteristics of cancer cells. The war is finally beginning to pay off, with the last ten years yielding promising results from drug research. Now, therapies that target cancer are coming to the market. Overall, survival rates have risen from 50 percent to 64 percent. New drugs in trials have saved some people with no hope.
The traditional therapy regimen of surgery, chemotherapy and radiation has proven indiscriminant. The hope in traditional therapy is that the cancer cells will be destroyed faster than healthy cells and that the cancer will be killed before the patient. There are other drawbacks. Surgery, ironically, can speed the spread of cancer, cancer cells are able to adapt to chemotherapy and radiation is often ineffective. The patient suffers severe side effects and will likely live with chronic health problems. Traditional chemotherapy drugs are derivatives of mustard gas. Traditional therapies will nonetheless still be used for the foreseeable future, since improved radiation techniques and chemotherapy agents have increased survival rates.
To find safer and more effective therapies, researchers must improve their understanding what differentiates cancer from normal cells. Why do cancer cells reproduce endlessly? Why do they mutate uncontrollably? What enables cancer cells to divide at such a rapid rate? What other factors contribute to the growth and spread of cancer? It is now known that telomeres, genes at the end of a cell’s DNA chain, control the number of times that a cell can divide. Cancer suppressor genes have been discovered, such as P53 that correct mutations during cell division. The answers found so far open the door to other types of drugs.
New classes of drugs now target cancer cells. Some drugs target enzymes that control cell growth. Gleevec works by stopping a protein called tyrosine kinase. While generally having fewer side effects than traditional therapies, the newer drugs are not miracle cures. Currently, the majority of these new drugs increase life expectancy by only weeks or months. And drug companies have more incentive to develop “blockbuster” drugs that are taken over a lifetime.
Genetic factors are being studied to use the newer drugs more effectively. The newer drugs target specific genes, requiring that they be tailored accordingly. In the future, cancers will be described according to genetic factors, rather than location. For the time being, the newer drugs are given using a hit-or-miss approach.
An unlikely individual, Dr. Judah Folkman, conceived another class of drugs. Not being an oncologist, he nonetheless observed the growth of blood vessels that nourish cancer cells, leading to the theory that cancer cells caused their growth. If cancer cells secrete a substance to cause blood vessel growth could this process be disrupted? Angiogenesis inhibitors are being developed and tested as a class of drugs that do not attack cancer cells, but rather prevent the proliferation of blood vessels that cancer needs to grow.
Vaccines unleash the body’s immune system against cancer in the same manner as against viruses. Unlike a virus, cancer consists of the patient’s own cells. The immune system is too slow to recognize cancer cells. The cancer cells are taken from the patient, and antigens are extracted from the cancer cells. The antigens are injected into the patient, and the immune system can then target cancer cells. Currently, vaccines cannot stimulate the immune system to kill all cancer cells. Not all cancer cells have antigens that distinguish cancer cell from healthy cells.
Gene therapies are
Improved and earlier detection are paying off in a big way. Survival rates have improved the most for breast, colon, prostrate and lung cancers.
The science of oncology has made much progress since Nixon’s declaration of war on cancer, but there is still much work to be done. But the outlook is encouraging, with many new drugs in trials.
Saturday, October 6, 2007
7000 Feet in High Definition
By David Chorney
I have been feeling a bit giddy since I got up this morning. Today, I get to experience the excitement of flying my paraglider. It is a soaring evolution of a parachute, capable of outclimbing even the best sailplanes. I am really stoked after I call the wind talker, which indicates the likelihood of thermals, rising columns of hot air that will carry me aloft. Everything points to a good day. I anticipate a big flight, maybe a personal best. I load up my flying gear and head for Mecca, Marshall Peak, a 1000-foot high mountain in the high desert with strong thermals and a reputation for long flights.
I hitch a ride to launch with a couple of hang glider pilots. At the top are some familiar faces, guys I fly with every week. We exchange greetings with 2-time champion Dave Bridges, with Mitch who is recovered from recent injuries and with Cary, my flying guru. We wait for the land to heat up and generate soarable thermal conditions. While keeping an eye on the hawks, we gossip.
It is finally time. I open my rucksack and unfurl my gliding wing. My pulse quickens. All pilots know the air is capricious. I straighten the lines, attach my harness, put on my helmet and strap in. I jerk the wing up slightly to form a horseshoe. The routine calms me only slightly. I wait for the right moment, when a thermal climbs up the hill and lifts off the ground.
I feel a warm gust, pull the wing over my head and run a few steps, quickly lifting off the ground. This is a fat, strong thermal. Within a few seconds, I am lifted 100 feet looking down at my friends. I mockingly yell “bye-bye!” to those still on the ground. I am soon humbled when I cannot stay in this thermal and immediately plummet 50 feet in the angry, swirling eddies that surround it. This sudden sinking isn’t called “going over the falls” for nothing.
I still have enough altitude, so I fly away from Marshall, surveying the valley below. The wind is the only sound, a low, eerie whisper. I am in a harness seat suspended from my wing by a set of thin lines hundreds of feet above terra firma. I feel vulnerable, but excited. It is surreal, beautiful and exhilarating.
It is time to hunt for a thermal. I am looking for places on the terrain likely to generate thermals, with no luck so far. I can only get a little lift on one side of my wing for a second or two. Relaxed now, I look around and see a dirt bike darting around the winding access road. Later, a hawk decides to fly in formation with me, coming almost close enough to touch. We share a mutual fascination, turning in unison for a few minutes, and then my hawk friend vanishes as suddenly as he appears. I find bare patch of ground that must be a hot spot. Then suddenly…
All hell breaks loose! My wing swings behind me, then pendulums forward so far that I catch a glimpse of it front of me. Just as it begins to stabilize when the left side lifts, rocking my harness sideways. I am wrestling with a beast of a thermal! I turn left into the lift that I sense from the pull of my wing. My variometer is going crazy, beeping with an intensity that I have never before experienced. I tighten my turn in order to catch even stronger lift. Now I am in the core, climbing at 1500 feet per minute. This thermal is a torrential, invisible tunnel of air that I dare not leave, because the turbulence at the boundary is even stronger. Besides, this thermal aroused my warrior spirit, and I want to ride it to the top.
Again, my pulse and breath quicken. I experience a wonderful focus that can only occur during such an intense situation. I need all the flying instincts that I have accumulated to respond to sudden changes in the thermal and continue to climb at this frenetic rate. I am locked in physically and mentally.
The thermal is beginning to become wider and smoother, while the rate of climb has lessened. I can relax now, and just hover in the lighter lift. I look around, and for the first I time ever I can see over the mountains and take in the view of the dry lakes and the other mountain ranges in the distance. The hue of the desert takes on a new beauty. The mountains reveal the contours of their spines and canyons, and the roads wind geometric patterns through the mountains. The sky is bluer, the air is fresh and cool and the Sun is brighter. I am experiencing the world in high-definition. I have climbed to 7000 feet by riding the forces of nature.
But I have never been this high before. I cannot recognize anything as I look down. All my reference points vanished during my frenzied ride. I decide not to worry. Everything will reappear as I descend. For the moment, I am able to enjoy the solitude and tranquility of my place in this universe. I don’t know how long I have been aloft. All I have is this perfect moment. I feel very privileged to be here.
Finally, I begin to descend, weaving a figure-8 pattern during my sled ride to the landing zone. Everything below is becoming familiar again, which is reassuring. I finally see the landing zone, a welcome sight. I go into the landing pattern, only 150 feet high now. I turn onto final and then flare as my feet touch down. It’s a perfect landing. I gather my wing and take my gear to the packing area. I am physically and emotionally spent. My hair is matted down, I am soaked in perspiration and I am hungry and thirsty, but I am mostly elated by this extraordinary flight.
As pack my flight gear, I am unusually quiet. Usually, we like to talk about the conditions and our flights, but I am alone with my thoughts. I feel a primordial sense of conquest. I load up my gear and head for home. I turn on my radio and I sing to the music all the way.
I have been feeling a bit giddy since I got up this morning. Today, I get to experience the excitement of flying my paraglider. It is a soaring evolution of a parachute, capable of outclimbing even the best sailplanes. I am really stoked after I call the wind talker, which indicates the likelihood of thermals, rising columns of hot air that will carry me aloft. Everything points to a good day. I anticipate a big flight, maybe a personal best. I load up my flying gear and head for Mecca, Marshall Peak, a 1000-foot high mountain in the high desert with strong thermals and a reputation for long flights.
I hitch a ride to launch with a couple of hang glider pilots. At the top are some familiar faces, guys I fly with every week. We exchange greetings with 2-time champion Dave Bridges, with Mitch who is recovered from recent injuries and with Cary, my flying guru. We wait for the land to heat up and generate soarable thermal conditions. While keeping an eye on the hawks, we gossip.
It is finally time. I open my rucksack and unfurl my gliding wing. My pulse quickens. All pilots know the air is capricious. I straighten the lines, attach my harness, put on my helmet and strap in. I jerk the wing up slightly to form a horseshoe. The routine calms me only slightly. I wait for the right moment, when a thermal climbs up the hill and lifts off the ground.
I feel a warm gust, pull the wing over my head and run a few steps, quickly lifting off the ground. This is a fat, strong thermal. Within a few seconds, I am lifted 100 feet looking down at my friends. I mockingly yell “bye-bye!” to those still on the ground. I am soon humbled when I cannot stay in this thermal and immediately plummet 50 feet in the angry, swirling eddies that surround it. This sudden sinking isn’t called “going over the falls” for nothing.
I still have enough altitude, so I fly away from Marshall, surveying the valley below. The wind is the only sound, a low, eerie whisper. I am in a harness seat suspended from my wing by a set of thin lines hundreds of feet above terra firma. I feel vulnerable, but excited. It is surreal, beautiful and exhilarating.
It is time to hunt for a thermal. I am looking for places on the terrain likely to generate thermals, with no luck so far. I can only get a little lift on one side of my wing for a second or two. Relaxed now, I look around and see a dirt bike darting around the winding access road. Later, a hawk decides to fly in formation with me, coming almost close enough to touch. We share a mutual fascination, turning in unison for a few minutes, and then my hawk friend vanishes as suddenly as he appears. I find bare patch of ground that must be a hot spot. Then suddenly…
All hell breaks loose! My wing swings behind me, then pendulums forward so far that I catch a glimpse of it front of me. Just as it begins to stabilize when the left side lifts, rocking my harness sideways. I am wrestling with a beast of a thermal! I turn left into the lift that I sense from the pull of my wing. My variometer is going crazy, beeping with an intensity that I have never before experienced. I tighten my turn in order to catch even stronger lift. Now I am in the core, climbing at 1500 feet per minute. This thermal is a torrential, invisible tunnel of air that I dare not leave, because the turbulence at the boundary is even stronger. Besides, this thermal aroused my warrior spirit, and I want to ride it to the top.
Again, my pulse and breath quicken. I experience a wonderful focus that can only occur during such an intense situation. I need all the flying instincts that I have accumulated to respond to sudden changes in the thermal and continue to climb at this frenetic rate. I am locked in physically and mentally.
The thermal is beginning to become wider and smoother, while the rate of climb has lessened. I can relax now, and just hover in the lighter lift. I look around, and for the first I time ever I can see over the mountains and take in the view of the dry lakes and the other mountain ranges in the distance. The hue of the desert takes on a new beauty. The mountains reveal the contours of their spines and canyons, and the roads wind geometric patterns through the mountains. The sky is bluer, the air is fresh and cool and the Sun is brighter. I am experiencing the world in high-definition. I have climbed to 7000 feet by riding the forces of nature.
But I have never been this high before. I cannot recognize anything as I look down. All my reference points vanished during my frenzied ride. I decide not to worry. Everything will reappear as I descend. For the moment, I am able to enjoy the solitude and tranquility of my place in this universe. I don’t know how long I have been aloft. All I have is this perfect moment. I feel very privileged to be here.
Finally, I begin to descend, weaving a figure-8 pattern during my sled ride to the landing zone. Everything below is becoming familiar again, which is reassuring. I finally see the landing zone, a welcome sight. I go into the landing pattern, only 150 feet high now. I turn onto final and then flare as my feet touch down. It’s a perfect landing. I gather my wing and take my gear to the packing area. I am physically and emotionally spent. My hair is matted down, I am soaked in perspiration and I am hungry and thirsty, but I am mostly elated by this extraordinary flight.
As pack my flight gear, I am unusually quiet. Usually, we like to talk about the conditions and our flights, but I am alone with my thoughts. I feel a primordial sense of conquest. I load up my gear and head for home. I turn on my radio and I sing to the music all the way.
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