Ben Cacace
February 2, 1998

     Normally I have a hard time making it between meals without eating, but the fasting was
to raise money for people who were truly starving.  I had been pulled into the fund raiser by a
friend of mine.  I figured by doing it, I was supporting her project as well as making money for a
good cause.
     I had stopped eating at lunch time.  After getting home, I went to the church building
where our group was going to stay for the night.  By staying together it reduced the temptation of
food and was more entertaining.  That afternoon we had fun playing basketball and an assortment
of card and board games.  Around dinner time, the hunger pangs began to hit.  The excitement of
the afternoon had worn off, making the hunger harder to ignore.  As the evening wore on, I got
used to being hungry to some extent, but the games got progressively less intelligent.  The worst
must have been a game called, "Trust Your Buddy."  It involved throwing a Nerf ball at each
other and trying not to flinch as it went by, inches from the head.  Shortly before we started
thinking about going to bed, someone made the mistake of bringing up favorite foods.  We
enjoyed torturing ourselves for awhile with thoughts of eating pizzas and anything else solid and
edible.  Sleeping on un-padded plywood floors seamed like an appropriate way to add to our
discomfort.
     Next morning when I woke up hungry, I wasn't all that bothered because I usually am
hungry when I wake up.  With a day of fasting still ahead of us, we began trying to entertain
ourselves.  We played more basketball and some cards to pass the time until what would have
been lunch.  We spent most of the afternoon sitting around watching movies.  As we watched the
last movie and our watches, we all couldn't wait for our pizza feast that we had planned for
afterward.
     After the thirty hours was over we all began eating not really caring if the pizza had our
favorite topping or not.  The first piece tasted almost as good as I had been imaging it for more
than a day.  After the second or third piece I began to realize that there was a flaw with the
beautiful celebration I'd been visualizing.  My stomach began to dislike the idea of pepperoni,
cheese, and sausage at a time when it was very empty.  Sadly when I remember the event, one of
the top memories is the difference in how I thought it would feel to be full again compared with
the sick sensation I experienced.
     Nevertheless, I participated again last year.  Remembering the first year, I treasured the
dreams of eating my favorite food, and took my meal of celebration slower and with more
appreciation.