Recently, “Weekend America’s” Neille Ilel learned something disturbing about a regular at the dog park near her: he was on the state sex offender registry. Dog parks, especially in the sprawl of California, are one of the last places where people from very different backgrounds, who aren’t connected in the usual ways — work, kids, a love of organic vegetables — actually hang out and talk. She brings us a story of community and fear.
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Last year, after making a deal with her mom, “Weekend America’s” Neille Ilel got tested for the “breast cancer gene.” If a woman has a mutation on BRCA1 or BRCA2, she’s almost guaranteed to develop breast cancer over her lifetime and is at a highly increased risk for ovarian cancer. But knowing about the gene doesn’t necessarily mean there are any easy ways to prevent the disease. Ilel tells us what it’s like to get tested for something you can’t really change.
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Later this month, my mother is going to have her breasts removed—not because she has cancer, but because she’s quite sure she’ll get it. It’s not the first time she’s had body parts removed. In fact, I’d had my mother pegged as straight-up insane since I was 12, when she underwent a total hysterectomy at age 35. It took me years to realize she’s not crazy. Or at least not that crazy. Finally, last year, we made The Deal: I told her I would get tested for the breast cancer gene if she would go into therapy.
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The Zune music players came out last week. They’re Microsoft’s answer to the iPod, and they’ve gotten mixed reviews. But look what they’re up against. Everybody has an iPod, and for the most part, people love them. They’re well-designed, they’re simple, they’re small. They’re perfect. And that’s really bumming out one long-time Mac user.
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One of my last nights in New Orleans this past February, I accepted an invitation from a construction worker staying at my hostel to have a beer on the back patio. I thanked Mike for the tall boy of Budweiser and lit a cigarette. I had quit smoking months before, but it was impossible not to smoke in New Orleans; everything felt toxic, nothing seemed permanent, and besides, everyone else smoked, too.
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