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When I was young, my father refused to purchase a TV set for our home.

“I would end up watching it all of the time,” he explained.  “And I have work to do.”

So – no TV.  The biggest problem for me was that I had periodic school assignments that involved an essay about a specific TV show, and I couldn’t watch any of them.  My recollection is that at first my teachers were skeptical.  After all, every family owned a TV set.  When they called my father, they realized that I was right.

Other than for class assignments, I didn’t notice the lack.  I’ve always liked to read, and I didn’t feel like I was missing anything.

Fast forward twenty years.  My dad had purchased a color TV shortly after the TV networks began to air national programs.  Of course, I wasn’t living at his home anymore, so it was no big deal for me.  (And yes, I had my own color TV set at my own home.)

Fast forward to when my dad was 80 (and he lived to be 104).  Sure enough, almost every time I visited his house Dad was firmly planted in front of the TV.  During his last twenty-five years he moved to live near me, and one day I realized that Dad lived in his recliner chair in his living room in front of the TV.  He sat in the chair 24/7, watching TV.

I don’t even know what he was watching, because whenever I visited he turned it off.

Today I mostly only watch news and sports programming on TV.  I believe that I can learn more, and more quickly, by reading.  Although I thoroughly enjoy PBS programs such as NOVA.

What is the moral to this short tale?

If you avoid something because you are concerned about becoming addicted to it, you are probably right.

Alan

We all have structure in our lives.

When we are young the structure is provided by our parents.  They decide our bedtime, what friends we have play dates with, and where we live.  As we grow older the structure is provided by our schools – where we go to school, who will teach us, and exactly what they will teach.  Ultimately, structure is provided by a society that has already laid down the roads, built the cities, and imposed the laws.

As we get older, we learn to construct our own personal life structure, to the dismay of our parents who are never quite ready for the amount of independence we desire.  I still remember the ongoing arguments my first wife had with our then four-year-old daughter who wanted to pick out her own clothes for school.

By the time I was 31 years old I had begun my own business, was the proud father of three children, and was in the middle of divorce proceedings.  I moved back to live with my parents.

Temporarily.

On the first morning of my “visit” my dad said at breakfast, “You know, Alan, we have certain rules we expect you to follow in our house.”  My immediate reaction was to smile on the outside, and to begin planning my escape on the inside.  I stayed with my folks for less than a month.

I now work in my office Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.  Last Tuesday morning when I woke up I checked my calendar for the day.  I found nothing.  No appointments. No reminders.  In short, no structure.

“That’s interesting,” I thought.  I was uncomfortably facing a blank day and, sure enough, immediately started to fill in those blanks with plans – i.e., structure.

As adults, each of us is the architect of our own life structure.

I hope you enjoy your view.

Alan

While my memory might occasionally be hazy, I still remember most of the significant events of my life.

As many of you know, I’m a big fan of the USC football team. Years ago, I flew to Florida with friends to watch them play in the Orange Bowl.

My memory is that USC was ahead 35-0 at halftime when I visited the men’s bathroom.

In the bathroom, I overheard two fans of the other team talking. They were in some distress that their team was losing so badly. I remember that one of them said to the other, “What are we going to do?”

“Take it like a man,” the friend replied.

I smiled at the time because it was an implicit acknowledgement that USC was going to win the game. But over the years I’ve incorporated that answer into other aspects of my own life, like a secret sauce.

But what exactly does “take it like a man,” even mean? There is the gendered implication that men should suppress their feelings even in times of physical or emotional hardship or that women are weaker than men and can’t take it. But I choose to use those words to remind myself that sometimes, one needs to tuck in and get through hard times like an adult, and that applies to everyone, men and women alike.

Sometimes adversity doesn’t just knock: it blows the whole house down. Then what do you do?  Take it like a woman, or man, and do the very best you can under the circumstances.  Take it one minute, one hour, one day at a time, as that is often the only course.

For me that meant “taking it like a man” when my brother suddenly died, about twenty years ago. I was inconsolable for three years, and for the first six months I found it difficult to even function in my normal life. But I got through it, one day at a time.

Eventually even the hard parts of life fade into the haze of our past. To test my memory of that long ago game in Florida, I searched the internet for references. But I failed to find the USC Orange Bowl score that I remember from that event. I will assume that this is due to my failure to search properly, because, in my mind, I’m certain it happened.

This season the USC football performance has been mediocre. So, I’m taking it like a grown up, and not caring as much as I normally do about the outcome of their football games.

Take THAT, USC.

Alan