Too Much TV?

TOO MUCH TV?
by Dr. Roger D. Haber

My wife, my guiding light for over twenty-five years now, says that she thinks I watch too much TV. All the days of our lives have been filled with all kinds of activities, not just television. All my children agree with me also. I don’t know what my wife is talking about. Perhaps she is lost along with the other desperate housewives who believe their husbands spend too much time in front of the tube.

I don’t want a family feud and I really don’t want to end up in divorce court so I’m trying to seriously consider what she’s said. In the outer limits of my mind, I suppose she could have a point, but I still can’t believe this family guy watches an inordinate amount of TV. I even asked my doctor, “Phil, do you think the TV is damaging my health?”

With no reservations, Phil said, “Roger, when you’re married with children, there are a lot of pressures, if that’s how you relax, don’t worry about it. I’m not concerned.”

But I still wonder. Years ago, I remember our first color TV. It was quite the home improvement. Of course my mother told us that we were not to sit too close to the TV. It was radioactive! My father would always say, “Yes dear” and sit wherever he wanted! Of course, my three brothers, Tom and Jerry, and Chuck and my two sisters, Laverne and Shirley agreed with mom. But dad and I were glued in front of that new color TV.

I believe these accusations of an addiction to television come without a trace of evidence. In college, I had two roommates. When I used to live with Regis and Kelly Dallas, they too thought I spent too much time in front of the American idol monitor instead of studying. But I spent time elsewhere; they were not fair. That was a myth. Busters, the restaurant I frequented was important for me and I had time for my thirty minute meals and they were certainly good eats. I was in seventh heaven when eating a TV dinner in front of the TV!

And I did my share of yard work too. I was on the front line of caring for our lawn. Our green acres were kept meticulously manicured by the main mower—me! I wasn’t watching TV while trying to bring curb appeal to our domicile!

You’d think that some people believe I spend 24 hours a day in front of the TV. To tell the truth, that is simply incredible. Are my accusers bewitched? Perhaps they have been losing too much sleep in the heat of the night. I asked my dear sister Shirley, “Sister, Sister, is it true? Am I a TV junkie?” She assured me, in our full house, with all those brothers and sisters, she understood my escape to the tube.

Don’t people remember the good times we’ve had without a TV in close proximity? Do I need to lay down the law and order people to be reasonable about my TV viewing? Can’t they see what I see with my 20/20 eyesight? I do not have a problem with too much TV! Don’t you agree? I was at the office the other day, and according to Jim, my friend at the cable company, hundreds of TV channel options are not the problem. The truth is it’s a matter of balance. Balance is what everybody loves. Raymond, my best friend from high school understood this. He always said, “Cheers, Roger. We have been friends ever since first grade. Don’t take to heart what everybody says. You could be America’s next top model philosopher of entertainment culture and life. Keep your eyes on your star; trek on my friend!”

Well my friends, there’s no bones about it! I’m convinced that I don’t have a problem with too much TV. I’m sure you agree. If you run into my wife later this week, would you mind telling her that I have the self-control of two and a half men? Her anger might burn; notice I’m always in control. Thanks, you are my heroes.

How many TV shows were mentioned in this piece?
The answer is 50. If you can’t find them all, email rogerhaber@yahoo.com

Where Did the Time Go?

Where Did the Time Go?

by Dr. Roger D. Haber

Where did the time go?

Recently my “little baby” turned 18! I can’t believe it. Last month my oldest turned 22. One graduates from high school and the other from college in a few months! I recognized this week that I am now the father of two adult children (at least chronologically).

It seems like yesterday I was changing diapers (or pretending to sleep so my wife would have the privilege and joy of that task).

Where did the time go?

I haven’t touched a stroller in years. I haven’t bought a diaper in decades. I can still remember taking them to their first day of preschool, then kindergarten, first grade, middle school, and high school.

I remember the time one of them played soccer and was thrilled at his first goal—for the other team! I remember treading water in the pool as they would jump off the really high diving board. I remember cheering at gymnastics, basketball, and concerts.

Where did the time go?

I remember drying tears over teasing and the first time childhood puppy love was dashed to pieces. I remember learning permits, road tests, and those nervous, finger-biting sleepless nights when they were out driving.

Where did the time go?

I remember arguing, sibling rivalry, meetings with teachers, and trying to keep them from playing one parent against the other.

I remember the recurring refrain, “Are we there yet?” every fifteen minutes on a sixteen-hour drive from Chicago to Philadelphia.

Where did the time go?

I remember stepping on Legos but smiling as he played with them for hours on end. I remember promising to buy a Nintendo if they could save the money; never expecting they would (they got the Nintendo).

Where did the time go?

I remember vacations to Niagara Falls: “It’s just water falling.” Or the Grand Canyon: “It’s just a big hole.” It seems like yesterday we took them to Europe: “Dad, could we please find a McDonalds?” or “Do we have to go to another castle?” Smiling as they put their feet in both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans (not on the same day).

Where did the time go?

I remember trying to get them to brush their teeth and washing their mouths out with soap. I remember long afternoons at Chuck E. Cheese or McDonald’s Playlands. How often I thanked the Lord for whoever invented Cheerios, especially on long rides.

I’ll never forget watching them play in the snow for the first time, bundled up, amazed that they were able to move arms and legs.

Where did the time go?

For my children, even my adult children, time seems to move so slowly. But for Nanci and me, it seems like yesterday we looking for Pampers coupons every Sunday.

It Finally Happened!

It finally happened—life as I have known it is now over. My youngest son, Jeremy, just got his driver’s license. It seems like yesterday I brought home this bouncing, bubbly bundle of boy. Where did the time go? How did we move from diapers to driving in a blink of an eye? Wasn’t it yesterday I was running down the sidewalk holding the seat of a bicycle with the training wheels recently removed? Those were the easy days. But now, it finally happened—a new chapter in our lives has begun.

It was a fun journey—standing in line at the Registry, making the return trip because they don’t give permit tests after a certain time. Why would I rather have root canal work than going to the RMV? And if you think that was bad, try riding in the passenger seat more scared than a soldier in Iraq. I’ve heard words come out of my mouth that I never thought I’d say: “The stop sign is not a suggestion; you eventually have to get off the rotary; no, you can’t see how fast this car will go!”

Of course we had to log our forty hours of supervised driving with Dad while gas was almost $4.00 per gallon! The effet to my physical and emotional well-being was certainly more costly. And then there was that rule that worked so well when the boys were little—whoever is driving controls the music playing. Do you know how “relaxing” it is to listen to heavy metal while teaching a teenager to drive? (Believe it or not, I’m actually beginning to enjoy metal music!) I also now know how some of those skid marks get on the highway barriers. I have also learned to scream one word commands very fast and very loudly: “Stop!” “Go!” “Brake!” “Truck!” “Incoming!”

Then came the fateful day when Jeremy was finally ready for his road test. Of course, rather than going with his “patient” father, he wanted to go with his driver education teacher (of course for a not-so-modest fee). Finally, I get the text message, “I got it!” and I am relieved (hoping it wasn’t sent while he was driving).

That reminds me, there are things I’m saying to my son that I never heard when I started driving in 1972: “No cell phone use or text messaging while driving. No playing with the iPod controls, keep your hands on the wheel, especially when your girlfriend is in the car.” Okay, not everything I said is exclusive to the twenty-first century.

I am also hearing things from Jeremy I’ve never heard before—and this started the day after the license was in hand: “When are you going to get me a car, you got Tim (the older brother) a car?” Dad replies quietly, “I really didn’t get Tim a car, I got myself a sports car and gave him my old car.”

“Well that’s not fair Dad, you have to get me a car!”

“Congratulations—you’ve learned your first adult lesson—life isn’t fair.”

Now I must admit, I’m exaggerating a bit (for the noble purpose of humor). Jeremy is actually a great driver; he’s a natural behind the wheel. And don’t tell him (or his mother), I’m looking for a car for him because although life isn’t fair, good old Dad loves having his driveway look like a used car lot. Of course there will be expectations in addition to the cell phones and iPod usage rules. Drinking and driving are never acceptable for novice or experienced drivers. Seeing how fast the car goes on 495 (or any other route number or road) is not only illegal, but also very foolish and deadly. And the most important rule: enjoy driving safely before the gas prices go back up again. One more expectation—get a job!

I Finally Did It!

I finally did it! My good physician gave me this gift on my fiftieth birthday—over three years ago—and I finally used it.

Now what you need to know about me is that I am a terrible patient—just ask my wife, Nanci. She’s a nurse and has seen really sick people over the years. I just can’t stand medical care. I’m a big baby. When I go to the dentist, I always ask for the nitrous oxide, the laughing gas—to get my teeth X-rayed—and I’m not joking here! The phlebotomists always have a problem finding a vein when it’s time to draw my blood. I don’t know what those two blood pressure numbers mean, but when I walk into a doctor’s office, mine must be 1,343 over 2!

But I finally did it. It started the day before. I could only have clear liquids all day. I tried telling my wife vodka was a clear liquid but she reminded me that I was a Baptist minister! Well I enjoyed my apple juice, broth, and water all day. And what a treat! I had a popsicle too! Then the real fun started as I took my specially prepared “cocktail” to make me ready to receive my gift. Everyone told me that this was the worst part. It wasn’t too bad though. I knew the worst part was yet to come as I pictured this procedure in my mind (and other places too). So I remained close to my bathroom and experienced sights and sounds that you do not want me to go into on this page.

Somehow, I don’t know how, I was able to sleep through the night and start the whole procedure all over again at 6:00 the next morning before going to the “gift shop!” As I enjoyed my breakfast of ginger ale and some brew from the cauldron of a real sadist, I thought to myself, “How much more can I give?” Sure enough—there was more! I told my wife, for once in my life I can truly say, “I am not full of it!” (Or something like that!)

Well, then we began our ride to the “gift shop” in West Bridgewater. I said my “good-byes” to the kids, the dog, and we headed out. They told me they’d put me out once we got there. How I wished they would have put me out in my driveway, but my health plan did not cover that.

We got to the “gift shop” and I was asked if I was allergic to anything. I said, “Yes, I believe I’m allergic to this place.” They did not believe me and still escorted me to the back room. And guess what? There were more gifts in store! They gave me this beautiful plastic bag where I could store my clothes—and I mean all my clothes! Not only that, I received a pair of cozy socks (which I put in my pocket later for a souvenir) and a beautiful outfit that made the Olympic Women’s Beach Volleyball uniforms look like something the women wear at the Plimouth Plantation.

Well I donned my new outfit and headed to a bed. As I lied down, a warm blanket was given to me as well. Then the fun began. After about a thousand sticks, they finally found a vein (the nurses were very kind and competent—I’m sure it was all my fault). The next thing I know, a syringe with happy juice is put in my IV.

I wondered how long it would take. I opened my eyes and saw Nanci standing by my bed and I said, “When are they going to start?” She said, “Roger, they’re done!”

I finally did it. I’m glad I did. My mother-in-law died of colon cancer. I have friends who are dying of colon cancer now. This past summer, former White House press secretary, Tony Snow died of colon cancer. According to the American Cancer Society if colon cancer is diagnosed early a complete cure is more likely.

I had my colonoscopy—finally—it was no big deal. I’m glad I finally did it. You should do it too if you’re over 50—or earlier if you have a family history of colon cancer. Plus, you get a cool pair of sock slippers!

Driving--Me Crazy!

I’m not talking about the movie with Miss Daisy. I’m saying that after our recent family vacation in New Zealand and Australia, “Driving: Me Crazy!” (Of course I know it would be more grammatically correct to say, “Driving: I was crazy!”)

Let me explain. I had great anxiety about this vacation. It was not about being in a plane, in coach, for many hours. My concerns were not about figuring out what day and time it was as we crossed the international dateline. I wasn’t worried about exchanging American dollars for New Zealand and Australian dollars. I must admit, I had a bit of panic over what to wear. The weather said the temperature in Queenstown was 3 degrees, but 14 in Auckland. I thought Centigrade was a bug with lots of legs! I didn’t even have to be concerned about the language. (They speak English in New Zealand and Australia—sort of!)

My greatest concern was about getting behind the wheel of our rental car. So, with sweaty palms and shaking knees I headed from the airport in Christchurch, New Zealand to our rental car agency. I was greeted with a cheerful, “G’Day, Mate!” I could barely speak. Along with the car keys, I was given an atlas, a first aid kit, and advice to rent snow chains too (you see it’s winter south of the equator now!)

Now here is where my worries were amplified. If I damaged the atlas, it would be an extra $25.00. I was advised that if I found someone injured on the road I should first collect $50.00 because if I opened the first aid kit, that’s how much I would be charged. As for the snow chains, I did rent them. We were shown how to put them on the tires but I was really thinking, if I use these snow chains, I’ll never be able to get them back in the case.

Well, here is when the anxieties really became overwhelming. I got behind the wheel. Now what you need to realize is that the wheel is on the right hand side of the car (as you’re sitting behind the misplaced wheel). In New Zealand and Australia (like in England and Bermuda) they drive on the left hand side of the road. My fears were confirmed as I tried to use the signal indicator and turned on the windshield wipers instead! Now this was a problem for me but on the bright side, it brought great laughter to the other passengers in the car—my loving wife and two children! My son, who had been living (and driving) in New Zealand for a few months said, “You know Dad, every time we used the wiper control by mistake, we had to put a dollar up.” You’ll be happy to know I’m back from vacation with only $3,459 in the “missed signal” kitty.

Of course, it’s a nice relaxing vacation, free of stress as you hear people shouting, “Dad, you’re in the wrong lane! They drive on the left side!” And don’t get me going on the round-abouts (or as we sanely call them, rotaries) or the one-lane bridges through the mountain passes.

Fortunately, no one in the family was there when I got into the car before they came out and got into the seat and wondered why the steering wheel disappeared. I quickly got out and used the right door before they came out of the hotel.

On top of that I’m trying to figure out the speed limits. We were traversing the beautiful mountain roads, looking at the scenery used to film “The Lord of the Rings.” Of course, instead of enjoying the scenery, I’m trying to figure out what 100 kilometers an hour means. And we complain about the price of gas here! If I figured correctly how many liters are in a gallon, I paid over $8.00 per gallon in New Zealand and Australia.

Speaking of Australia, my anxieties were augmented even more as our rental car was a stick shift and I’m grabbing the gear shift with my left hand! Talk about complicating an already complicated situation. I must admit, it was fun to see the signs indicating to be careful of kangaroos crossing the road!

Well, needless to say, but I’ll say it any way: I made it back from our family vacation near the bottom of the world and somehow survived driving without any casualties other than a few grinding gears and worn out windshield wiper blades. As they say down under, “No worries, Mate!”