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By Tim Jensen ~~~~~~ In the summer of 2008, I was on top of the world. I had two wonderful children, was editor-in-chief of my hometown newspaper, was coaching high school ice hockey and had just recorded the third hole-in-one of my life (on three different golf courses, in three different decades). Suddenly, in September of that year, almost everything changed. I had been experiencing increasing pain in my left leg throughout the summer, and in typical guy fashion, waited about six weeks before deciding to see a doctor. While awaiting the test results, I was laid off from my job. A week later came the diagnosis: a form of cancer called diffuse large B-cell lymphoma in my left femur. In layman’s terms, cancer had eroded away some of my left thighbone. The first step was surgery to attach more than a foot of stabilizing stainless steel to the bone. I am, to say the least, an extremely difficult patient, and Dr. Kevin Raskin and the staff at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston did a phenomenal job during my eight-day stay there. A few days after returning home, I began suffering excruciating pain in the leg and called East Windsor Ambulance. Within an hour of arrival at Baystate Read more...

By Tim Jensen My mom is 80 and a cancer survivor, just like me. She is able to laugh at herself, which makes this story even funnier. When I was virtually immobile at my home after surgery shortly after my diagnosis, she and my dad would call to see if I needed anything. One day I said I was short on groceries, and she asked if there was anything else. I said, "Yeah, Dad said I could borrow some of his DVDs because I'm totally bored." Later, they dropped off a bag of items, then she called me that night to check on me. I told her, "Thanks for the groceries, but you didn't bring the DVDs." She replied, "Yes I did, they're on your kitchen counter." Looking there, I noticed a large pile of my father's underwear and began laughing hysterically. Apparently, at the time she didn't know what DVDs were, so she assumed I meant BVDs. Think about it - even if BVDs is what I needed, would you really bring someone's used pairs? Only a Mom can get away with that! Love you Mom! Read more...

By Cami Beiter ~ James Lincoln Wood was known by many names. “Jimmy” by close acquaintances. “Jim” by fellow ranchers, large equipment retailers and feed store owners.  “Mr. Wood” by the many hispanic migrant workers he housed and employed.  “Jimmy Lincoln”...only to the ladies or childhood friends did he hesitantly permit such reference.   As a young girl, I heard people refer to him by all his various monikers.  I thought I detected a hint of hatred, a loathing...even jealousy when his name was said but also a level of respect and admiration, mixed with a healthy serving of fear.  Jim Wood was a successful rancher, owning thousands of acres in the fertile Salinas Valley.   For many years, my mother dated Jim.  He almost became my stepfather.  I’m glad he didn’t, for my life would have been very different.  It would have taken me away from the ocean, my friends, my school.  Still, for years many of my adolescent weekends were spent on his ranch...riding horses, working, complaining.  In order to make the transition (and reality) of the weekly sacrifice more bearable, my mother would often treat me to McDonald’s before the long and winding drive Read more...