A couple of weeks ago -- no, maybe it was a month or two back -- actually, it was 50 pounds ago (When you're overweight, you tell time not by the clock but by the scale) -- I was asked by my friends at MDA if I would like to write an article for Quest. Well, actually, that's not true either. What happened was, I was sent a copy of Quest and after reading it I opened my big mouth and volunteered to write something!

You see, here are the problems. One, I'm not a great writer, even though I'm told that my shopping lists are riveting. I remember a particular list once where, after the ice cream, Ben and Jerry's of course, and Sara Lee cheesecake, I put in nonfat mayonnaise. No one saw it coming. What a surprise twist.

Two, I'm a procrastinator. As a matter of fact, Arnold Schwarzenegger's new movie is called "The Procrastinator." His big line in the movie is: "I'll be back. Maybe."

Four -- I know I skipped three, I just wanted the article to seem bigger -- even though we're in 1998, I still don't have a computer. I'm not very technologically savvy. I still can't figure out my shower massager. I thought that an Intel chip was a potato snack.

I still write things out longhand with a pencil and paper. I did upgrade, though. Instead of a number 2 pencil, now I use a number 3. Well worth the money.

LABOR DAY MEMORIES

Last but not least, what to write about? After many weeks of deep thought and fabulous food, I decided to write about why I do things for MDA. First, I tried to remember how I first found out about MDA. But you know, I don't remember.

All I know is that every Labor Day, there it was, the Jerry Lewis Telethon. Not only was it a great show, in the '60s it was the only show that ran for 24 hours. No matter where we were, we had to be at the TV at the end to see Jerry do a final tote. We couldn't throw in a video. It wasn't invented yet.

Also, writing about the Telethon brings back some sad memories. As a kid, the Labor Day Telethon meant the end of summer vacation. Jerry sings. My mom would say, "Okay, kids, time to go to bed. It's the first day of school tomorrow."

CALL OF THE WILD

Then I thought about my summer camp stories. As a kid, I was sent for two weeks to sleepaway camp in New Jersey. Taking a kid from Brooklyn and throwing him into the country was a little bit of a culture shock.

I remember telling my friends, "I just saw an ugly horse." My friends later told me it was a cow. I didn't care. I still rode him to the lake and called him Trigger. Those were the best weeks of my year.

Twenty-five years later I found out that the camp I went to in Sussex was a historic place. It was the first place that Bob Ross -- who later became MDA's executive director -- used for an MDA summer camp, back in the '50s. Obviously, it was very successful. The MDA summer camp program is going stronger than ever, and for a lot of special kids, it's the best week of their year.

Then I thought: Maybe I do things for MDA because someone very close to me has a neuromuscular disease. That would be a good reason, and it's true. But the fact is, I was volunteering for MDA five years prior to that happening. So that wasn't the reason.

CALL OF THE WILD

Then it came to me: the people. That's why I help MDA. I'm not talking about Jerry Lewis, who if they ever decided to elect a Jewish saint, he would be the one. Nor am I talking about the MDA staff and MDA doctors, who work diligently to help find a cure and are always there for their clients. No, I'm not doing it for them.

What about the wonderful volunteers, who have hearts and smiles in humongous proportions? They're fantastic. But they're not the people I mean.

What about the families, the kids and adults who are served by MDA, who have more courage and love than words can describe? What about the wonderful parents of the kids affected by neuromuscular diseases? Inside of them, they have qualities of bravery and hope that are just amazing to me, more than I could ever hope to have.

What better reason than that could there be to help MDA? Well, believe it or not, there is another reason. Actually, two reasons, two people who are the deepest, most powerful explanation of why I help MDA.

The people I'm talking about are my parents, Pincus and Yvonne. By their example, they taught me something very simple and profound: Doing good and helping people is the way you should live your life.

My parents never thought twice whenever someone asked them for help. Most of the time they didn't even have to be asked. That's the greatest lesson they taught me.

So why do I do things for MDA? It's simple. I have to.

(And who knows? Maybe I'll be able to keep helping for another 50 years. Or should I say 50 pounds?)