Together, let’s help fuel the next big breakthrough in cancer research
There are many things that ten-year-old Reid Wolf Moritz loves. His family, making watches (yes, really), basketball, cars (especially Ferraris), collecting super, ultra-rare Pokémon cards…and putting the pedal to the medal at Cycle for Survival.
Cycle for Survival is the official rare cancer fundraising program of Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center (MSK). One hundred percent of every dollar raised at Cycle for Survival events supports rare cancer research and lifesaving clinical trials at MSK.
At only two years old, Reid was diagnosed with pilocytic astrocytoma, a rare type of brain tumor.
Pediatric cancer research is severely underfunded. When standard treatments don't work, families rely on breakthrough clinical trials to give their children a real shot at long-term survival.
When Reid’s chemotherapy and brain surgery didn’t work, he was able to participate in one of MSK’s clinical trials, where he’s received some incredible results. “Memorial Sloan Kettering has done so much for me. It's just so nice how they did all this for me. They're just the best hospital ever,” Reid recalls.
And that’s why every year, you’ll find Reid with his team, aptly named Reid's Wolfpack, riding at Cycle for Survival. It’s just Reid’s way of paying it forward so that even more kids can have similar opportunities.
“I love sharing my story to inspire other kids to PERSEVERE, STAY STRONG and NEVER GIVE UP while also raising money for my amazing doctors and researchers to help other kids like me.”
Reid remembers the joy felt bouncing on his father’s shoulder and hearing the crowd cheer during his first Cycle for Survival ride. As he can attest, each fundraising event feels more like a party, with plenty of dancing, singing and celebrating.
Hoping to spread more of that positivity, Reid and his family started the Cycle for Survival team, Reid’s Wolfpack, which has raised close to $750,000 over the past eight years. All that money goes directly to Reid’s Neuro-Oncology team at Memorial Sloan Kettering.
In addition to cheering on participants and raising good vibes at Cycle for Survival events, Reid even designs some pretty epic looking merch—like basketball shorts, jerseys, and hoodies—to help raise money.
If you’re looking to help kids just like Reid, and have a ton of fun doing it, you’re in luck. Cycle for Survival events are held at Equinox locations nationwide, and welcome experienced riders and complete newbies alike. You can even join Reid and his Wolfpack in select cities!
And if cycling in any form isn’t your thing, a little donation really does go a long way.
Together, let’s help fuel the next big breakthrough in cancer research. Find out more information by checking out cycleforsurvival.org or filling out this interest form.
Photos from the 1800s were so serious.
If you've ever perused photographs from the 19th and early 20th century, you've likely noticed how serious everyone looked. If there's a hint of a smile at all, it's oh-so-slight, but more often than not, our ancestors looked like they were sitting for a sepia-toned mug shot or being held for ransom or something. Why didn't people smile in photographs? Was life just so hard back then that nobody smiled? Were dour, sour expressions just the norm?
Most often, people's serious faces in old photographs are blamed on the long exposure time of early cameras, and that's true. Taking a photo was not an instant event like it is now; people had to sit still for many minutes in the 1800s to have their photo taken.
Ever try holding a smile for only one full minute? It's surprisingly difficult and very quickly becomes unnatural. A smile is a quick reaction, not a constant state of expression. Even people we think of as "smiley" aren't toting around full-toothed smiles for minutes on end. When you had to be still for several minutes to get your photo taken, there was just no way you were going to hold a smile for that long.
But there are other reasons besides long exposure times that people didn't smile in early photographs.
Why so serious? Public domain
The long exposure times for early photos may have contributed to serious facial expressions, but so did the painted portraits that came before them. Look at all of the portraits of famous people throughout history prior to cameras. Sitting to be painted took hours, so smiling was out of the question. Other than the smallest of lip curls like the Mona Lisa, people didn't smile for painted portraits, so why would people suddenly think it normal to flash their pearly whites (which were not at all pearly white back then) for a photographed one? It simply wasn't how it was done.
A smirk? Sometimes. A full-on smile? Practically never.
"Mona Lisa" by Leonardo da Vinci, painted in 1503Public domain
Our perceptions of smiling have changed dramatically since the 1800s. In explaining why smiling was considered taboo in portraits and early photos, art historian Nicholas Jeeves wrote in Public Domain Review:
"Smiling also has a large number of discrete cultural and historical significances, few of them in line with our modern perceptions of it being a physical signal of warmth, enjoyment, or indeed of happiness. By the 17th century in Europe it was a well-established fact that the only people who smiled broadly, in life and in art, were the poor, the lewd, the drunk, the innocent, and the entertainment […] Showing the teeth was for the upper classes a more-or-less formal breach of etiquette."
"Malle Babbe" by Frans Hals, sometime between 1640 and 1646Public domain
In other words, to the Western sensibility, smiling was seen as undignified. If a painter did put a smile on the subject of a portrait, it was a notable departure from the norm, a deliberate stylistic choice that conveyed something about the artist or the subject.
Even the artists who attempted it had less-than-ideal results. It turns out that smiling is such a lively, fleeting expression that the artistically static nature of painted portraits didn't lend itself well to showcasing it. Paintings that did have subjects smiling made them look weird or disturbing or drunk. Simply put, painting a genuine, natural smile didn't work well in portraits of old.
As a result, the perception that smiling was an indication of lewdness or impropriety stuck for quite a while, even after Kodak created snapshot cameras that didn't have the long exposure time problem. Even happy occasions had people nary a hint of joy in the photographs that documented them.
Even wedding party photos didn't appear to be joyful occasions.Wikimedia Commons
So how did we end up coming around to grinning ear to ear for photos? Interestingly enough, it may have been the advent of motion pictures that pushed us towards smiling being the norm.
Photos could have captured people's natural smiles earlier—we had the technology for taking instant photos—but culturally, smiling wasn't widely favored for photos until the 1920s. One theory about that timing is that the explosion of movies enabled us to see emotions of all kinds playing out on screen, documenting the fleeting expressions that portraits had failed to capture. Culturally, it became normalized to capture, display and see all kind of emotions on people's faces. As we got more used to that, photo portraits began portraying people in a range of expression rather than trying to create a neutral image of a person's face.
Changing our own perceptions of old photo portraits to view them as neutral rather than grumpy or serious can help us remember that people back then were not a bunch of sourpusses, but people who experienced as wide a range of emotion as we do, including joy and mirth. Unfortunately, we just rarely get to see them in that state before the 1920s.
Mats Steen lived a secret life that his family only discovered after he died.
Mats Steen was only 25 years old when he passed away, his body succumbing to the genetic disease that had slowly taken his mobility since childhood. He'd lived in a wheelchair since his early teens, and by his 20s, his physical abilities had deteriorated to the point of only being able to move his fingers. He could push buttons and use a mouse, and he spent nearly all of his waking hours playing video games in his parents' basement.
His family loved him and cared for him through it all, giving him as much of a normal life as they could. But they also lamented everything they knew he'd missed out on. "Our deepest sorrow lay in the fact that he would never experience friendships, love, or to make a difference in people's lives," Mats' father shares.
Mats left behind the password to a blog he kept. Not knowing if anyone would actually read it, his parents published the news of Mats' passing in a blog post, adding their email address in case anyone wanted to reach out.
Much to their surprise, messages began pouring in from around the world—not just with condolences, but with heartfelt stories from people who called Mats their friend.
As his online life was revealed, the family learned that Mats began his days with a routine 30-minute sprint through the forest. He frequented cafes and pubs, chatting with strangers and flirting with women. He sat by campfires having heart-to-heart conversations. He made friends and enemies. He fought heroic battles. He supported people in times of need. He gave advice that people took. He experienced his first kiss.
And he did it all as "Ibelin," his handsome, muscular avatar in the online game World of Warcraft.
- YouTubewww.youtube.com
Mats' life is showcased in the documentary, "The Remarkable Life of Ibelin," in which his parents share the story of how they discovered their son's group of friends they didn't know he had.
People who've never played an open world roleplay game like World of Warcraft may wonder how real community can be built through it, but Mats' story proves it's possible. The friends he made through the game have shared the real influence he'd had on their real lives, from helping them with problems they were facing to empowering them to make positive changes in their relationships.
A young woman Ibelin had connected with as a teenager—the one with whom he'd shared that first virtual kiss—shared that her parents had taken away her computer when they feared gaming was interfering with her studies. When she logged on at a local library, Mats gave her a letter he had written to give to her parents, encouraging them to talk with her about her gaming hobby and to work out a solution together that didn't require her to give it up completely. She printed it and gave it to them. Miraculously, it worked.
Another woman had been having a hard time connecting with her autistic son as a young adult. When she talked with Ibelin about her struggles, he suggested that she and her son start gaming together and connect in that way first. Eventually, that connection via the virtual world led to warmer in-person interactions between them—and a life-changing shift in their relationship.
"I don't think he was aware of the impact that he had done to a lot of people," the mother shared.
Mats interacted with the same online friends as Ibelin for years, going through the kinds of ups and downs all real friendships experience. He kept his physical condition a secret until close to the end of his life, when he finally opened up to another player who convinced him to share his reality with the others. Some traveled from other countries to attend his funeral, with one of them speaking on the group's behalf and a few of them serving as pallbearers. Those who knew Ibelin also held a memorial in-game at his virtual gravesite—a tradition that has spread beyond just his own guild.
Typically, we think of someone escaping the real world and spending hours a day playing video games as unhealthy, but for Mats, it was a lifeline. As Ibelin, Mats was able to have a level of independence and a rich social life that simply wasn't possible for him in the offline world—an uniquely modern phenomenon that technology and human creativity have made possible.
Duchenne muscular dystrophy, the genetic disease that Mats lived with and ultimately died from, affects 300,000 boys worldwide. It only affects males and it has no cure. But CureDuchenne, a global nonprofit dedicated to funding and finding a cure, has partnered with Blizzard and World of Warcraft in Mats' honor. From now until January 7, 2025, World of Warcraft players can purchase a limited-edition pet fox named Reven ("fox" in Norwegian). The Reven Pack, which includes a transmog backpack and Reven’s Comfy Carrier, costs $20, with 100% of the purchase price being donated to CureDuchenne.
The Reven Pack on World of Warcraft—100% of purchase cost goes to the CureDuchenne foundation.World of Warcraft/CureDuchenne
“Mats Steen lived a life in World of Warcraft that he couldn’t in the real world as he fought Duchenne muscular dystrophy alongside his incredible family, who I’m proud to have met and fallen in love with,”said Holly Longdale, executive producer of World of Warcraft. “Working with CureDuchenne for our Charity Pet Program, in honor of Mats’ memory, allows us to harness the power of our phenomenal global community to bring meaningful impact to so many lives.”
You can learn more about Mats' story in the award-winning documentary, "The Remarkable Life of Ibelin," on Netflix and learn more about the CureDuchenne fundraising initiative with World of Warcraft here.
