THE BELL CURVE

joseph n. bell

For the past three weeks, my stepson’s 1985 Mercury Topaz has been parked

in front of our house, a derelict piece of flotsamadrift in a sea of

newer and far less battered vehicles. My stepson, in his last year at

Occidental College, is now in a more dependable car at the insistence of

his mother, who nightly pictured him stalled in some desperate section of

Los Angeles. And I’ve been driving the Topaz -- feeling rather like I did

with my first Model-A Ford -- while we decided how to dispose of it.

This has not been altogether comfortable for me. My Great Depression

mentality says that if a car is still running, it should be kept and

driven. And further that the older the car, the younger the driver should

be. When I knew that I had lost both contests, I began looking about for

the best way to resolve this matter. Should I try to sell this potential

problem to some unsuspecting soul or seek another means of getting it out

of my life short of driving it off the Newport Pier?

I was still searching for an answer to this question when I heard about

James Sanchez, who is 8 years old and the grandson of my friends and

neighbors, Pat and Jim Altobelli. James’ parents, who live in Buena Park,

discovered a lump in their son’s rib cage eight months ago. They were

concerned but not alarmed when their family doctor said he would keep an

eye on it. But the lump grew bigger and bigger and finally became painful

enough that the doctor decided it should be removed. A biopsy beforehand

discovered that James was afflicted with Ewing’s Sarcoma -- a bone cancer

found primarily in children.

All this happened a few weeks before Christmas. James had just completed

three days of chemotherapy when he was allowed to go home to share

Christmas with his twin sister, Jennifer, and hisparents. It was not the

best holiday for the Altobelli clan, which now numbers 14 grandchildren.

When James returned for further treatment at Children’s Hospital of

Orange County, he had some unexpected visitors. They came from the

Make-A-Wish Foundation, and his grandmother says today that the news

forced her to gulp since the Foundation mostly rings its special brand of

joy to terminally ill children.

But James was delighted to see them because he had an immediate answer

when his visitors asked him if he had one wish, what would it be? James

wanted to go to outer space. His mother was surprised because she thought

this pragmatic youngster would choose something more immediately

achievable -- a trip to Disney World, perhaps. But James knew what he

wanted and didn’t waffle. And if the Make-A-Wish people were stumped,

they didn’t show it. They just told James they would see what they could

do about getting him up there.

Meanwhile, James had a dozen rounds of chemotherapy before hewas

pronounced ready for surgery. By that time, the tumor had been reduced

from -- said his mother -- “a cantaloupe to a tootsie roll.” Still there

were some disturbing signs left, and so James was put on a program of

radiation -- and that’s when Make-A-Wish fired up the rocket.

He came home one day from a treatment to find a limousine parked in front

of his house. It carried James and his mother to Boeing’s Reusable Space

Systems facility in Downey, the home of the space shuttle. He was greeted

there by a banner that proclaimed: “Welcome James, Astronaut To Be.”

Boeing’s Space Flight Awareness director and her crew took over then to

prepare James for his venture into space. An afternoon of touring ended

with James piloting a space simulator, followed by a phone conversation

with astronaut Joe Tanner, a veteran of two space walks, speaking from

the Johnson Space Center in Houston, Texas.

Proudly wearing his space hat, James headed home with a bagfulof

souvenirs and a head full of star dust. The limousine drivertold James’

mother that he had driven dozens of famous people over the years, but he

had never had a better day than this one. James also managed to give the

space program a few anxious hours. Shortly after he got home, his mother

received a panicked call that some important papers had come up missing.

Could James possibly have them? He did. He had added the papers to his

bag of souvenirs.

Neither Boeing nor Make-A-Wish stopped with that first visit. A Boeing

vice president personally delivered an album of pictures to James’ home,

and his Boeing friends called almost daily to find out how he was doing.

Then, two weeks after his original venture into space, James was again

driven to the Space Center, this time to listen to the preparations for a

launch and finally to give it his blessing. The blast-off didn’t take

place until James said it was a “Go.”

When I heard this story, I had my answer. I went home and offered the

Topaz to Make-A-Wish. A few days later, I met James at a party at his

grandparent’s house, his glistening shaved head bobbing up and down as he

raced around with his cousins.

James has just set out on a new round of chemotherapy that the doctors

hope will have his cancer in remission by Christmas. And as I watched

the Topaz disappear up the street, I wished fervently that it might play

a small part in helping that to come about.

* JOSEPH N. BELL is a Santa Ana Heights resident. His column appears

Thursdays.