A few days before Christmas, I read David Murray’s blog post about a fundraising effort to cover nontraditional treatment for a family’s terminally ill wife and mother. I thought about other people who had died after placing desperate hope in some unproven, promised cure: Farrah Fawcett, whose battle against anal cancer included treatments in a German clinic to boost her immune system, and my own sister, Annette, who died 18 years ago from breast cancer.

Cancer is ugly and scary. This year, about 562,340 Americans are expected to die of cancer, more than 1,500 people a day, according to the American Cancer Society (ACS). Cancer is the second most common cause of death in the U.S., exceeded only by heart disease. In the U.S., cancer accounts for nearly 1 of every 4 deaths, according to the ACS statistics.

While cancer is ugly and scary, its treatment can be even more grim. Chemotherapy with its nausea, hair loss and other side-effects. Mastectomies and other surgeries. Radiation.

All for what? The 5-year relative survival rate for all cancers diagnosed between 1996-2004 was 66%, up from 50% in 1975-1977. So even with progress in diagnosing certain cancers at an earlier stage and improvements in treatment, one-third of all people in the U.S. who were diagnosed with cancer in 2004 aren’t alive today.

That’s why people like the Wieland family fight like hell to beat cancer. When someone you love has cancer, the first response, after the tears, is to stay positive and to expect to defeat the cancer. Unfortunately, studies show that a positive attitude doesn’t extend the life of a cancer patient.

Of course, support groups can affect quality of life, but the threat of death from cancer-related causes can open the door to long-shot treatments and no-shot money wasters dangled by charlatans.

As research intern Krystal Wilson said in an October 2007 online article for the American Council on Science and Health,

That’s why I had mixed emotions when I read Murray’s post and checked out the “Lana’s Hope” site. I want to help the family in this small way, by spreading the news about the fund-raising effort. I want Lana to get those long-shot treatments that just might cure her cancer.

On the other hand, I want this emotionally drained family to avoid being taken by charlatans on the hope of a fake miracle cure. But I understand what’s driving them.

In the fall of 1982, I was living in a two-bedroom apartment in Aurora, Colo., just outside Denver, with a former college journalism buddy. I had called him the previous August from Decatur, Ill., where I had just decided to leave my job as a reporter at the Decatur Herald & Review. I told him that I had decided to move to Colorado “to see the mountains.” I was pleasantly surprised when he called me back later to say that he would go with me!

My friend, Bernie, quickly secured a nice position in the call center of a national check security firm. I was more focused on partying, and had floated through some low-paying, no-future “jobs.”

One day, the phone rang. It was my sister, Annette. It was about three months after she and her husband had their first child, a son. Annette was reaching out to her younger brother, to offer some encouragement.

During the phone call, Annette mentioned that she had been having some inexplicable back pains. A voice in my head said, “Tell her that is a sign of possible cancer.” But I pushed that thought aside; I mean, how weird would I have sounded, scaring my sister with the idea of cancer?

A few weeks later, I learned that Annette did indeed have breast cancer, and she needed to begin chemotherapy. I decided to move back into my parents’ home shortly afterward, stating that I wanted to be there to support Annette. The larger truth was that I needed the support of my family just as much.

Annette and her family went through a lot of ups and downs in the next eight months before she died on June 1, 1982. I later referenced that time in a song I wrote titled, “Cells of Fear”:

Near the end, as the cancer spread to Annette’s brain and lungs, choking her breath and stealing her sight, her family was desperate.

My mom told me that Annette’s husband had paid a fee and expenses to bring a “faith healer” from somewhere in Canada. “Don’t you say anything,” my mom sternly told me through tears. “This might be Annette’s last chance.”

I couldn’t help but glare at the “faith healer” as she was escorted past me in the hallway outside of Annette’s hospital room. I wasn’t going to watch the “show,” even if I had been invited. I wasn’t going to be invited because my unbelief might affect the potential “miracle,” some of my family thought.

So I spent a few minutes alone in the hallway, until the procession left Annette’s room. I may be making this up, but I have a partial recollection that someone commented that Annette was now “in God’s hands.”

I believe that she was always in God’s hands, and he did the merciful thing when he ended her suffering. That’s the way we deal with cancer: Expect to beat it, then if we don’t, hope to limit the suffering with a quick death.

I hope that Lana’s family raises the money to pay for the treatments they desire for Lana. If the treatments provide her with a longer, more enjoyable life, that would be a blessing.

I pray, as well, that they don’t fall victim to charlatans, dangling empty promises of hope. That is a curse.

When my wife and I began premarital counseling 20 years ago at her Lutheran church, I decided to convert from the Catholic to Lutheran faith. It was an easy decision for me, because I had long before stopped identifying with the Catholic religion I was taught from birth through high school. The Lutheran faith was similar to Roman Catholicism, but it held key theological and practical differences that made sense to me then…and now.

As someone who made a reasoned decision two decade ago regarding my religious beliefs, I was perturbed a few weeks ago when my dad sent me an email, inviting me to “come home” to the Catholic church.

The problem isn’t that the Catholic church is making an outreach effort to win converts. The problem is that the outreach efforts are sending a message to people like me that the Catholic beliefs are the only right choice. Even other Christian denominations “have it wrong.”

That message is, in the words of the apostle Paul, “a resounding gong,” (1 Corinthians 13:1) because it demonstrates a lack of love on the part of the people behind this outreach effort. How else to explain an outreach effort that alienates brothers and sisters in Christ, that assumes that “home” is a belief system that people like me left behind for theological reasons without regret?

I don’t want to get into a debate with Catholics. I want them to be able to express their beliefs, while respecting the beliefs of others. This “Come Home” campaign doesn’t do it in theory or in practice.

Advertising Age yesterday posted a video in which Verizon CMO John Stratton discusses the “Map War” it is conducting with rival service provider AT&T.

In the video, Stratton states that the cellular service provider market has cycled back to a focus on network reliability, rather than available phone choices, as the primary differentiator among service providers. Of course, as AdAge points out, Verizon has hung its marketing hat on network reliabilty ever since it introduced us to the “Can you hear me now?” guy.

I don’t know whether Stratton is correct that customers will focus more on network reliability than phone products. He admitted that the introduction of the Apple iPhone disrupted marketing when tens of thousands of customers drooled over the iPhone and had no problem going with AT&T, which had an exclusive distribution agreement.

I experienced something similar today at work, when I overheard a coworker talking about his new Motorola Droid, which he purchased through a Verizon “buy one, get one free” promotion. I asked him if he was happy with Verizon, and he said, “Oh yeah, the coverage is great.” But he really wanted to show us the cool features of the Droid.

Back around 1990, when I was working in the public relations department at Cellular One in Schaumburg, Ill., network reliability and reach were the primary marketing angles used by us and our primary competitor, Ameritech. At Cellular One, we ran story after story about the most recent cell towers that we built, and how that would improve coverage and reliability. We couldn’t keep our coverage maps as current as we would have liked, because new cell towers were being introduced at a fairly rapid pace.

But that began to change for two main reasons:

• Local communities became disenchanted with the many cell towers dotting their landscapes, and were less inclined to approve new towers, and
• Reception with existing towers was average-to-good over the majority of Cellular One's "coverage area."

But all of the talk of coverage and network reliability ignores a basic fact that continues to be ignored by the media and service providers:

After you achieve a base level of network coverage, the experience of a particular customer depends far more on that customer's travel and cellphone usage patterns than the company that provides the cellular service.

For all of the advertisements that we see and hear that are focused on the benefits of a 3G or 4G network, the fact remains that the root of any cellular service is the transmission of data through the air. Those transmissions can be limited or blocked by natural and man-made obstacles including trees, hills, bridges, and buildings.

No cellular provider has the resources needed to blanket every city or state with unbroken cellular service. So–with the exception of occasional service outages that might occur at a particular cell tower–a customer’s impression of a network’s reliability will depend upon how many “dead spots” exist for that customer as he or she travels. That experience will be different for every customer.

That’s why I chose AT&T as my service provider. I talked with many people who live and work in the same general geographic area as me. I heard their experiences with AT&T, Verizon, Sprint and others. In my case, AT&T was considered to be more reliable by most people with whom I talked, and, in fact, I have been very satisfied with its service. Yet at the IABC World Conference in San Francisco last June, I spoke with Shel Holtz, ABC, who was looking forward to getting a new Palm Pre through Sprint. He had several unsatisfactory experiences with AT&T before he “abandoned” AT&T several years prior to writing the review of the Palm Pre on his blog.

It may not be wise for all cellular service providers to put all of their marketing chips into one basket, whether it be network reliability, new products, price or something else. Find what resonates and stick with it, as long as you can support any claims that you make. I get a sense that neither Verizon nor AT&T have been able to make an airtight case in the “Map Wars” battles.

Let me know what you think. Call me, if you have enough bars.

My grandfather, Clarence Fieberg, was in the trades for all of his adult life. He worked up the ranks at McNulty Construction Company, eventually earning a role as a vice president.

This is my grandfather, whom we called “Pop-pop,” along with his wife, Gladys, her mother, Maud, my mom, and her six children. That’s me in front, threatening to shoot the photographer (my dad).

Among its projects, McNulty Construction helped build the Pentagon in the early 1940s. Pop-pop commuted by train for months as he worked on the Pentagon project.

One day, his boss told Pop-pop that the firm had won another large project bid in the Washington, D.C. area, and that it would be a multi-year commitment. Pop-pop talked things over with my grandmother, and they decided to move to Washington so that they would be together.

They went ahead with a few suitcases, leaving the rest of their belongings to be loaded onto a moving truck. They had barely arrived in Washington when Pop-pop was offered a kickback from someone related to the new project. He refused it, and when he was told, “that’s the way things work around here,” he reported the incident to his boss at McNulty. “McNulty Construction doesn’t take bribes,” his boss affirmed.

Pop-pop called the movers back in Chicago and told them to stop loading the truck. McNulty Construction pulled out of the project, and Pop-pop returned home.

I remember feeling very proud of Pop-pop years ago when he told that true story to me and my siblings. He spoke matter-of-factly, as though it was understood that honesty was not something to compromise.

I wish that I remained forever unsoiled by the attitude that “it’s the way that things are done around here.” But I eventually became jaded growing up in Chicago, and reading numerous newspaper accounts of widespread graft, favoritism and an apparent lack of accountability for wrongdoing. It wasn’t just in the newspapers, it was in companies where I worked, among people who worked alongside me, or were in management positions.

The attitude that “right doesn’t matter, getting your way does,” even reared its ugly head in the youth sports in which I coached and in which my kids participated. Many people had a great perspective–that sports was a way to teach the values of honest work, determination, and discipline. But it seemed like there would always be a few coaches or parents on the sidelines, dragging down the team with ways to “play the system” or complain about fair calls that didn’t go their way.

Anyway, I thought about Pop-pop and McNulty Construction recently when I shooed the dishonest tradesman out of my home (read Part One of this post for the background). I’m not “Ivory Soap pure” by any stretch of the imagination, but every once in a while, I can do the hard thing, the right thing, that let’s me feel good about looking at myself in the mirror.

Sometimes, I guess I see part of Pop-pop looking back.