I wrote this right after the ride:
Today was the big day.
I was up about an hour before dawn, getting myself fed and dressed. It was wet outside, but the rain had stopped. We got down to Stewart Park with plenty of time for someone to come along and tear the stub off of the number I wore on my back all day, which is all that had to happen before opening ceremonies. A lady who is HIV+ spoke briefly to thank us all, some other people spoke with pretty much the same purpose. They did the symbolic rider-less bike thingy, and we were on our way.
The weather was just how you'd want it. About 70 degrees and overcast the whole day, but the rain held off. I wore spf 45 sunscreen, but still got a little tanned. I met new people, some of whom turned out to be friends of friends. There was a group of about 15 of us who seemed to pace with each other pretty well. I'd pass them, they'd pass me - we leap-frogged like that the whole way.
One of the highlights of the trip was the Interlaken Creamery. They have the best ice cream I've ever eaten, and though it wasn't one of our official pit stops, it was one of mine. Another highlight was this lady who'd made signs that said things like, "You're doing great!" and "Keep on spinning!" and "You're our hero!" About 2-3 miles after every pit stop, she'd be there, holding up one of her signs. And of course, there are the students from the Finger Lakes Massage School, who give us free massages at lunch and at the end.
~400 bikers on the road, and I didn't hear about any accidents, and only once where it was close. (I did see lots of bikes in SAG wagons though, and it seemed like I saw many many people with flats.)
My friends and family helped me raise a total of $600 this year; I couldn't have done it without you. The first time I did the ride, I raised about $400, and I didn't get back to Cass park (the end point) until about 4:45. This year, I was there about 3:15. We left Stewart Park around 7:00, so that's just over 8 hours, including 5 pit stops, one of which was lunch.
I'm not into that campy junk that they do at the end of these things: If you're riding in a team, raise your hand, and they all raise hands and people cheer and clap; If you're wearing purple socks, raise your hand, and they all raise hands and people cheer and clap). So anyway, I just went home. And that means that I don't know yet how much total money was raised.
Thanks to everyone who supported me in this year's ride - 100 miles closer to a cure.
And now, though it's only 8:30pm, I think I'll go to bed.
~.~
I did however learn that someone died doing the ride. He was a young, fit guy who'd trained for it, and just collapsed ~10 miles in.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
AIDS Ride for Life
Dear Family, Friends, Acquaintances, and Extended Dignitaries,
I am currently in training to be a cyclist in the AIDS Ride For Life, sponsored by the Souther Tier AIDS Program (STAP), scheduled this year for September 13.
This is a charity-century ride, so I have to raise a certain amount of dough, and then ride 100 miles (ow!) around Cayuga Lake. I did the ride 2 years ago, but had a million things going on last year. Last time I rode, I had 2 friends with me, but this year I may be on my own (not sure about Katie).
Why ride for AIDS?
There are approximately 1000 people living in my area (NY Southern Tier) with HIV/AIDS. In 2005, "The estimated lifetime cost of treating an HIV positive person [was] at least $195,188." I tried to find the cost of treatment per year, per patient, and they varied from ~$3,000/year to ~$7,000/year. But that's only part of the reason.
I was pen-pals with Ryan White. Sort of. OK, probably not. I grew up in the Ryan White era of HIV/AIDS. When you are a child, your imagination might confuse things, and I am not sure what is memory and what is imagination in the following story. I know that I went outside one day and saw something blue on my lawn. I was ~8-9 years old, so this was ~1984-5. A classroom somewhere west of me had attached little notes to helium balloons and let them go (litterbugs!). The note requested that I write a letter to become pen pals with a boy I am sure was named Ryan. I know that the chances of me being pen pals with The Ryan White is approximately impossible. Ryan White was diagnosed with HIV in 1984 and promptly kicked out of school. I know I took the note to school to show my teacher and friends, and that I was briefly pen-pals with the Ryan who'd sent the card. With the name "Ryan White" in the news around the same time, I probably just turned my Ryan into The Ryan in my head.
Regardless, the Ryan White story was one of the first news stories I connected with. Here's his wiki:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ryan_White
So, if you'd like to help me raise money for people living with HIV/AIDS in New York State, please go here to make a safe, fast, secure donation:
http://www.firstgiving.com/amandamanfredo
If you're not comfortable with online monetary exchange, you can also send me a check made out to STAP. If you need my address let me know.
thank you very much.
Mandy
I am currently in training to be a cyclist in the AIDS Ride For Life, sponsored by the Souther Tier AIDS Program (STAP), scheduled this year for September 13.
This is a charity-century ride, so I have to raise a certain amount of dough, and then ride 100 miles (ow!) around Cayuga Lake. I did the ride 2 years ago, but had a million things going on last year. Last time I rode, I had 2 friends with me, but this year I may be on my own (not sure about Katie).
Why ride for AIDS?
There are approximately 1000 people living in my area (NY Southern Tier) with HIV/AIDS. In 2005, "The estimated lifetime cost of treating an HIV positive person [was] at least $195,188." I tried to find the cost of treatment per year, per patient, and they varied from ~$3,000/year to ~$7,000/year. But that's only part of the reason.
I was pen-pals with Ryan White. Sort of. OK, probably not. I grew up in the Ryan White era of HIV/AIDS. When you are a child, your imagination might confuse things, and I am not sure what is memory and what is imagination in the following story. I know that I went outside one day and saw something blue on my lawn. I was ~8-9 years old, so this was ~1984-5. A classroom somewhere west of me had attached little notes to helium balloons and let them go (litterbugs!). The note requested that I write a letter to become pen pals with a boy I am sure was named Ryan. I know that the chances of me being pen pals with The Ryan White is approximately impossible. Ryan White was diagnosed with HIV in 1984 and promptly kicked out of school. I know I took the note to school to show my teacher and friends, and that I was briefly pen-pals with the Ryan who'd sent the card. With the name "Ryan White" in the news around the same time, I probably just turned my Ryan into The Ryan in my head.
Regardless, the Ryan White story was one of the first news stories I connected with. Here's his wiki:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ryan_White
So, if you'd like to help me raise money for people living with HIV/AIDS in New York State, please go here to make a safe, fast, secure donation:
http://www.firstgiving.com/amandamanfredo
If you're not comfortable with online monetary exchange, you can also send me a check made out to STAP. If you need my address let me know.
thank you very much.
Mandy
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
kindergarten and baby goats
Reyna Marie enrolled in kindergarten today. This is a picture of my first grade class, which was mostly the same as my kindergarten class. I remember almost all of these children, which ones were smart, which ones were fun.
The boy on the far right in the front row was named Chris, and he was a naughty boy. He cheated when we played classroom games, he never did his work, and when he did it was messy. His desk was messy. He was the naughtiest boy I'd ever seen.
One day at one of the few recesses he'd been permitted, he was on a swing. He was going high and fast, and I don't remember doing anything but watching him. Then a girl - a good girl who was not a friend of mine, but whom I knew - walked in front of him. He said, "No! No! I can't stop!" But she was in front of him, and the corner of the wooden swing seat caught her in the temple. She fell down, she'd been knocked out. There was blood in her hair and on the swing. The teachers were there in a second. Chris was already crying and saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I couldn't stop." One girl said, "Sorry isn't good enough this time, Chris."
One teacher carried the girl inside, and another one spanked Chris even though it wasn't his fault, and it was obviously not his fault.
Chris continued to cheat when we played classroom games, but I remember deciding around that time that there is no person who is all bad.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wasn't present for Reyna's enrollment, but she and Mick told me about it. When she got there, they gave her a paper bear that had her name on it, and as she traveled from station to station, she got stickers to put on the bear. They wanted her to draw a person, so she drew a circular head, a neck, a face, a hairdo, a torso with arms, a skirt with legs coming out the bottom and shoes. She then proceeded to color it. The teacher was impressed. She said the children usually draw a circle with a face on it and limbs coming out of it.
They asked Reyna to count, and she counted to 100. They told us the children usually count to about 20. Reyna knew all the colors, the alphabet, how to spell her name. She was her usual, darling little self; she answered their questions and did just fine. There were some other girls there, and Mick said they were being sweet too. He said there were two boys. One was crying and saying he wanted to go home, didn't want to do whatever they wanted him to do. The other was burying his face in his mother's bosom.
(Image yoinked from: http://anabolicminds.com/forum/supplement-reviews-logs/88977-anabolicxtreme-3-ad.html)There were some people there who referred to the children as "Kids." I don't like it. Kids are baby goats.
Let's pretend Mick has been invited somewhere, and he wants to know if it's ok to bring me along. Should he say, "Is it ok to bring my heifer?" or "Can I bring my sow?" or "What about the old bitch?" I would be pretty offended. If you call my child a baby goat, be prepared for her to be offended, and to remind you that "Kids are baby goats. Should I call you an old goat?"
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Manna?
This is not the only place I have chosen the name "Manna" for myself, and I have been asked just how I chose Manna as my very own name. Well, oh, you know, the Jews were hungry in the desert, and God snowed food on them like bread crumbs, and it was tasty tasty Manna, or yeast or something. But that's not where my name came from, because Manna's not really my name for one thing.
My name is Amanda Manfredo. And if you look closely, you will find 2 mans in my name, I'm a man, duh. Everyone knows that the singular of man is Mannum, so since I have 2, I need the plural, Manna. But that's also not from whence cometh my name.
Manfredo means cold hand in Italian (sort of - mana freda). But that's not really my husband's last name. When his family came to the US from Naples, their last name was Mambre. But immigration officials changed it not to Smith or Jones, but to Manfredo which sounded more American. I have very little of my own Italian blood, so I am Italian by injection. And I am not really a man, nor a hand, but I might be a law.
Amanda means "worthy of love." And if you look in a religious baby name book, it means "worthy of God's love." And because of his love for me, my oldest nephew (now 13), when he was learning to talk, tried to say my name. For a long time he called me "Aunt Manna," and the rest of the family picked it up and called me Manna for a while too. I like it.
I have also been called Beth, Magna, Mandy, Goofy, Michael, Donald, Cleopatra, PJ and Sciencebabe.
My nephew's name is Gabriel. Gabriel is the name of an angel. In Islam, he is called the chief of the four favoured angels and the spirit of truth, and in some views Gabriel is the same as the Holy Spirit. I think it's good that a child with this namesake gave me this name.
My name is Amanda Manfredo. And if you look closely, you will find 2 mans in my name, I'm a man, duh. Everyone knows that the singular of man is Mannum, so since I have 2, I need the plural, Manna. But that's also not from whence cometh my name.
Manfredo means cold hand in Italian (sort of - mana freda). But that's not really my husband's last name. When his family came to the US from Naples, their last name was Mambre. But immigration officials changed it not to Smith or Jones, but to Manfredo which sounded more American. I have very little of my own Italian blood, so I am Italian by injection. And I am not really a man, nor a hand, but I might be a law.
Amanda means "worthy of love." And if you look in a religious baby name book, it means "worthy of God's love." And because of his love for me, my oldest nephew (now 13), when he was learning to talk, tried to say my name. For a long time he called me "Aunt Manna," and the rest of the family picked it up and called me Manna for a while too. I like it.
I have also been called Beth, Magna, Mandy, Goofy, Michael, Donald, Cleopatra, PJ and Sciencebabe.
My nephew's name is Gabriel. Gabriel is the name of an angel. In Islam, he is called the chief of the four favoured angels and the spirit of truth, and in some views Gabriel is the same as the Holy Spirit. I think it's good that a child with this namesake gave me this name.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
About two years ago, I was out biking, and I found a set of keys. They were outside someone's house, but when I knocked, no one answered. I took the keys to the police.
About one year ago, I was out biking, and I found a cell phone. I picked it up and called the number listed as "Mom & Dad." I live in Ithaca, "Mom & Dad" live in Boston. I sent their son's phone to them. They offered to send some money, at least the cost of the postage, but I refused, asking to just let me have this good feeling of being helpful.
About a month ago, I found a wallet while I was out biking. As I continued, I found credit cards, $43 dollars, student ID, etc. I collected these strewn contents, and used her student ID to find her email address. She was in Philadelphia, but came to collect her wallet the following Wednesday.
Yesterday, I got a thank you note from the wallet person with $10 in it. I was a little put off by it at first, but got over it. I am planning on finding more wallets (they seem most profitable) with the hope of collecting a total of $30. If this plan works, I will send $30 to David Horvitz. Then David Horvitz will buy $30 worth of cookies and give them out to people he sees in the street.
http://www.davidhorvitz.com/if/index.html
If you are interested in contributing to my David Horvitz fund, please come to Ithaca and lose something. Then I will find it, send it to you, and you can send me money for David. If you lose your item between my house & Cornell, I will have the best chance of finding it. You might also want to let me know you're coming, and I can show you where I live during your stay.
xxoo
About one year ago, I was out biking, and I found a cell phone. I picked it up and called the number listed as "Mom & Dad." I live in Ithaca, "Mom & Dad" live in Boston. I sent their son's phone to them. They offered to send some money, at least the cost of the postage, but I refused, asking to just let me have this good feeling of being helpful.
About a month ago, I found a wallet while I was out biking. As I continued, I found credit cards, $43 dollars, student ID, etc. I collected these strewn contents, and used her student ID to find her email address. She was in Philadelphia, but came to collect her wallet the following Wednesday.
Yesterday, I got a thank you note from the wallet person with $10 in it. I was a little put off by it at first, but got over it. I am planning on finding more wallets (they seem most profitable) with the hope of collecting a total of $30. If this plan works, I will send $30 to David Horvitz. Then David Horvitz will buy $30 worth of cookies and give them out to people he sees in the street.
http://www.davidhorvitz.com/if/index.html
If you are interested in contributing to my David Horvitz fund, please come to Ithaca and lose something. Then I will find it, send it to you, and you can send me money for David. If you lose your item between my house & Cornell, I will have the best chance of finding it. You might also want to let me know you're coming, and I can show you where I live during your stay.
xxoo
Friday, April 18, 2008
Poems about the Moon
You should always try everything four times
and not grow mildly tired of it.
An invitation, then?
Shall we write of the moon?
Yes - but let's write freshly.
(no mentioning dairy products.)
Everyone, write of cheese and milky light!
Moon Moon go away.
Come again some other day.
I see you on the sunless side
and beauty is different with each encounter
perfect.
everybody has to write
at least one poem about moonshine
oh moonshine
as sweet as you flow
earthshine for the sunless
tell me lover, if that light were on me,
would you still give me dark chocolate?
and would I still…
last week the moon was just a sliver
the whole sphere gently lit
then it changed back again
last week was just a sliver
on the sunless side
you murmur, last week
last week the moon was just a sliver –
very beautiful.
Greg says,
I like implicit moons more,
and now I see I ruined a good idea,
a poem splintered upon the sea
(This one belongs on the lunatic fringe.)
Pagan I, deified in a gap:
a cleft in the Rock of Eden
houses my nomadic longing.
A howl plays backwards.
~ Maybe Greg’s intricate blue figure
is the wreckage of a full moon
floating broken on the open poem
it looks like a flower that’s dying
splintered upon the sea
although the words say
'a heavy burden has been lifted...'
the man resembles razor blades.
is the implicit light in the top of a cave
there so Greg can read the words?
did Greg write them?
or is he completely separate?
Moon Moon go away.
Come again some other day.
(Greg wrote that. Wink.)
that star on his forehead
is a reflection of a day moon
Everybody has to write at least one broken poem
now night or day, he calls
to romance the moon
with dark chocolate
and by telling her she's beautiful.
and not grow mildly tired of it.
An invitation, then?
Shall we write of the moon?
Yes - but let's write freshly.
(no mentioning dairy products.)
Everyone, write of cheese and milky light!
Moon Moon go away.
Come again some other day.
I see you on the sunless side
and beauty is different with each encounter
perfect.
everybody has to write
at least one poem about moonshine
oh moonshine
as sweet as you flow
earthshine for the sunless
tell me lover, if that light were on me,
would you still give me dark chocolate?
and would I still…
last week the moon was just a sliver
the whole sphere gently lit
then it changed back again
last week was just a sliver
on the sunless side
you murmur, last week
last week the moon was just a sliver –
very beautiful.
Greg says,
I like implicit moons more,
and now I see I ruined a good idea,
a poem splintered upon the sea
(This one belongs on the lunatic fringe.)
Pagan I, deified in a gap:
a cleft in the Rock of Eden
houses my nomadic longing.
A howl plays backwards.
~ Maybe Greg’s intricate blue figure
is the wreckage of a full moon
floating broken on the open poem
it looks like a flower that’s dying
splintered upon the sea
although the words say
'a heavy burden has been lifted...'
the man resembles razor blades.
is the implicit light in the top of a cave
there so Greg can read the words?
did Greg write them?
or is he completely separate?
Moon Moon go away.
Come again some other day.
(Greg wrote that. Wink.)
that star on his forehead
is a reflection of a day moon
Everybody has to write at least one broken poem
now night or day, he calls
to romance the moon
with dark chocolate
and by telling her she's beautiful.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
headlines of my now
I am working on my Master's thesis. The work is all done for the thing, I just have thinking and writing to do.
And right now Reyna is upstairs crying. We had a less-than-fabulous evening, and now it is past bedtime.
Had a good talk with my lab people today (Jeff, the boss, and Mohan, the new student); we planned what we want to accomplish in the next 1-3 years.
Jeff's wife, Maki, has cancer. She is 35, and in excellent health, and has never smoked. She just started her second round of chemo, and is doing very well. She's very tough.
And right now Reyna is upstairs crying. We had a less-than-fabulous evening, and now it is past bedtime.
Had a good talk with my lab people today (Jeff, the boss, and Mohan, the new student); we planned what we want to accomplish in the next 1-3 years.
Jeff's wife, Maki, has cancer. She is 35, and in excellent health, and has never smoked. She just started her second round of chemo, and is doing very well. She's very tough.
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