Five TV shows I will stop and watch any time, anywhere

I've mentioned before that I don't watch much TV. And it's not because I have any philosophical objections to it, I just have too many other things going on.

But when I do sit down for some tube time, and I actually have control of the remote (NOTE: THIS HAPPENS APPROXIMATELY TWICE PER CENTURY), I am for whatever reason drawn to the channels that air old shows.

Maybe I'm just nostalgic, but the shows I like all aired in the 60s and 70s. I don't necessarily think TV was better then than it is now. But I think it was more suited to my tastes. And we're talking about me here, so the older shows get the nod.

If I'm flipping through our 47,000 digital cable channels and come across any of these programs, I will stop and watch. Every time. Guaranteed:

(1) M*A*S*H

There was a period in the early and mid-80s when WUAB Channel 43 in Cleveland would show a rerun of M*A*S*H every night at 7. And my brother would record it on our old, 50-pound Curtis Mathis VCR. This was a VCR that came out back when "VHS or Beta?" actually meant something. It was heavy. And it lasted a long time.

Anyway, my brother recorded all the episodes of M*A*S*H, which got me into watching the show. There was nothing else like it on TV, nor has there been since. If you're a M*A*S*H fan, usually you have to declare your allegiance in four important areas:

• Henry Blake or Sherman Potter? (correct answer = Sherman Potter)
• Trapper or BJ? (correct answer = Trapper)
• Frank Burns or Charles Emerson Winchester? (correct answer = Frank Burns)
• Old Hateful Hot Lips or Later Sympathetic Hot Lips? (correct answer = Old Hateful Hot Lips)

I think I would pay $20 just for the chance to watch an episode of M*A*S*H right now. I wonder where my brother's stock of recorded VHS episodes is?

(2) Hogan's Heroes

Sticking with the military theme...

Everything about this show was wildly inaccurate and improbable. But that was the point, right? You either enjoyed seeing the Nazis portrayed as semi-lovable buffoons or you were appalled by it. I think I've always been a little of both.

The guy for whom I felt the worst was Kinch, also known as Sgt. Ivan Kinchloe. Kinch was the African-American guy. He also had the best fake German accent. But he could only use it over the phone or the radio because...well, because not even a show like this could get away with having a dark-skinned guy pass for an Aryan in person. So Kinch always had to stay back at the POW camp while the other guys went out on wacky adventures dressed as genocidal psychopaths. Poor guy.

(3) The Andy Griffith Show

Who made this show? Don Knotts made this show. Barney Fife is easily one of the top five funniest characters in television history. And I'm willing to argue him up into the top three.

Special mention goes to Otis the Town Drunk, who wins the award for Best Portrayal of a Perpetually Inebriated Person Back When It Was OK to Make Fun of Alcoholism. Otis even let himself into jail every night just to get away from his wife. I love 60s TV!

May I present to you an excellent scene in which these two classic characters interact? Don't mind if I do:

(4) The Carol Burnett Show

The fun here was figuring how far you could get into any given episode before Tim Conway would get Harvey Korman to bust up. Harvey didn't necessarily want to bust up, of course. He was trying to stay in character. But Tim was so brilliant, and so spontaneously funny, I can't imagine anyone could have held a straight face for long.

And let's not forget Carol herself. And Vicki Lawrence. All four of the main cast members were outstanding comedic actors...to the point that I think they spoiled us for any other comedy variety show. The genre sort of fell by the wayside once the 80s hit, and I think it's because The Carol Burnett Show was so good.

(5) All in the Family

If you make me watch one sitcom over and over for the rest of my life, I'm probably going with this one.

It's dated in many ways, and part of its genius lies in how far ahead of its time the show really was. But I still think much of the writing was timeless, and it worked because Carroll O'Connor and Jean Stapleton were so darned good.

Please, if you do nothing else today, watch this scene (my favorite one in the show's history). I can't imagine you not at least smiling at it, if not cracking up. Just awesome:

Does The Calendar rule your life, too?

Our life is controlled by The Calendar.

This is both a good and a bad thing.

It's good in that The Calendar, by which I mean the large "Mom's Plan-It Calendar" hanging on our refrigerator, is an invaluable tool in helping us organize our life.

I always say, "If it's not on on The Calendar, it doesn't exist." If you want a ride, if you want to make sure the family attends your event, if you simply want to remind yourself, write it on The Calendar.

At the same, it's a bad thing because, well, since when did we surrender control of our schedules to a sheaf of laminated paper?

Since about three kids ago, I would say.

You people with children know what I'm talking about. Especially if that child is school-aged and/or involved in a lot of activities. Sports, music, Scouts, whatever. They all involve practices, meetings and games, and they all seem to happen at once.

You people with multiple children are already shaking your heads and saying, "I hear ya, brother."

As I type this, our family has, over the next four hours, a track practice (Chloe), a track meet (Jared), a soccer game (Jack), and another soccer game (Melanie).

I coach both Jack's and Melanie's teams.

Do you see the problem there?

This is not the first nor the last time this will happen. And I don't ask for pity because we brought this on ourselves.

But that doesn't make it any more fun.

If you wonder how I made the choice to coach Mel's game and not Jack's, it came down to the relative "importance" of their games.

I put importance in quotes because it's kids soccer. No game, no practice is anywhere really close to "important."

Their overall experience and what they take away from participating in organized team sports: That's important. Not a game. Not the final score.

But when you compare the two, I selfishly picked Melanie's game to attend because we're playing our intra-city rival tonight. Our opponents are a great bunch of girls with a great coach, but when we play each other, nobody holds back. It's actually a lot of fun, and win or lose, all the girls involved get something out of it.

So that's what I chose.

But I never like to choose at all. And I'm actually surprised how often I don't have to choose. With five kids (even with one in college), the potential for Event Conflict is enormous. Yet the schedules tend to balance out, for the most part.

Still, activities and events leave us very little down time. When we can, we all like to just stay at home and do whatever we want. Everyone in the family appreciates that.

But when we're "free," other people expect that's a good time for us to get together. And we really should, but those rare free nights are the nights when we rest and recharge.

Again, we made the choice in all this. I know that. But I'm still going to whine because it's my blog.

Except that I'm already late for a soccer game and I have to go...

Welcome to America, where we're not especially grateful for anything

Do you know what the three biggest problems in my life are at this moment? I'll tell you:

1. As I type this on Saturday the 20th of April, I still don't have a job and I want to get one. And soon.
2. My right ear is blocked with fluid and it's annoying me.
3. I seriously can't think of a third problem.

So two, then. I have two problems. And neither one is especially harrowing.

I honestly believe I'll be employed very soon (and am grateful I have the skills and opportunities for employment that come with my particular socioeconomic condition). So #1 isn't likely to be a problem for much longer.

And as for my ear, I'm guessing it's just a bacterial thing and will go away. If I need to, even as an unemployed person, I can still afford to pop down to my doctor's office or the urgent care to get the right medicine to treat it.

So #2 isn't really that much of a problem.

Which leaves me with exactly zero things that can be classified as "problems" in the way most of the world thinks of "problems."

There is a minuscule chance I will be in danger of losing my life today.

My refrigerator is stocked to overflowing with good, healthy food.

I have access to virtually unlimited quantities of clean drinking water.

I live in a house with people I love and who love me back.

I own two cars.

I live on a nice street with great neighbors.

I am, by all accounts, among the incredibly blessed.

I bring all of this up because I was just looking at my calendar for the next week, and this is how I reacted:

"Oh man, there's a soccer game for me to coach almost every day. And I have all of these lunches and meetings to go to. And when am I going to find time to study for my public relations accreditation class? This week hasn't even started and it's already horrible."

Feel free to laugh at me. Because I'm laughing at myself.

And crying a little, too. I don't think I had any idea how ungrateful I was for the life I lead until just a few minutes ago when I actually stopped to think about it.

I am light years better off than, for example, the people helped by the City Mission, the wonderful Cleveland-based organization that works with people in crisis and for which I serve as a proud member of the board of directors.

(By the way, the City Mission folks could really, really use your support. I'm telling you, you will not get more impact for your philanthropic dollar anywhere else. Here's a handy link to donate online, if you're so inclined.)

There's a popular Internet theme called "First World Problems," and I find it a useful reminder to be grateful for what I have. Which is a lot.

I guess I just wanted to make sure you felt the same way.

If you have access to an Internet connection and can read this blog, you're already better off than two-thirds of the world.

If you know when your next meal is coming and that it will be filling, you're doing extremely well.

If you have people who love you, you're blessed beyond measure.

Please remember that the next time you start complaining about your leaky faucet or your packed schedule. And please remember to smack me in the head the next time I complain about the same stuff.

Deal? Deal.

Anzac Day and other holidays you didn't know about

I just looked at the calendar and noticed that today is Anzac Day.

But of course you already knew that.

Your calendar probably doesn't tell you that today is Anzac Day. Mine does.

That's because it's an Australian calendar, given to us by our Australian friends, the Jones family.

We love the Joneses. They're wonderful people. Their daughter, Chelsea, is coming to stay at our house for a few days this summer.

When Chelsea arrives, it will mark exactly the second time any of us has ever actually met a member of the Jones family in person. The other time was a couple of years ago when the whole family (all seven of them) toured the U.S. in a gigantic R.V. and spent a weekend with us when passing through Ohio.

For the most part, though, we only know them electronically. My wife met Kerri Jones through a church-related email discussion list, and the relationship grew even closer with the advent of Facebook.

Now we consider them to be very close friends, even though we hardly ever see them. Because as you know, Australia is farther away than Saturn.

Anyway, as I mentioned before, today is Anzac Day, according to our Australian calendar.

I actually know who/what the Anzacs were, but only because of my strangely intense interest in the First World War. Otherwise, I would have guessed that they were some sort of insect ("We had a terrible infestation of Anzacs, but the exterminator was able to get rid of them.")

"Anzac" stands for "Australian and New Zealand Army Corps," a military force that fought the horrible Gallipoli campaign in Turkey against the Ottoman Empire in 1915 and 1916. It was a badly conceived operation, and as is usually the case in such instances, it was the poor infantry on the ground who had to pay the price for strategic errors made in some staff meeting room thousands of miles away.

Anzac Day is observed every April 25th to remember those young men who fought at Gallipoli almost a full century ago. It's actually quite a solemn occasion in Australia and New Zealand.

Seeing as the majority of the readers of this little blog are American, I'm guessing 99% of us didn't know that. We in this country have a hard time understanding or even caring about anything that happens outside of our neighborhoods, let alone half a world away.

But then again, we already have quite a list of holidays and observances here that makes us all a little immune to, well, holidays and observances.

Anzac Day is not our holiday, but Arbor Day is. That's tomorrow. I know it has something to do with trees, and that you're supposed to plant one, but that's the extent of my Arbor Day knowledge.

Armed Forces Day this year is Saturday, May 18th. Which is of course not to be confused with Memorial Day nine days later when we watch parades, eat candy, cook out in our backyards, and vaguely remember that the day has something to do with soldiers.

Then there's also:

• Parents Day (July 28th...really)
• Senior Citizens Day (Aug. 21st)
• Grandparents Day (Sept. 8th)
• Leif Erikson Day (Oct. 9th)
• Boss' Day (Oct. 16th)
• Pan American Aviation Day & Wright Brothers Day (both Dec. 17th)
• Dog Vomit Appreciation Day (Dec. 20th)

I only made up one of those. The rest are real holidays. For better or for worse.

The holiday I dislike the most is Sweetest Day, which is held on a Saturday every October.

I assumed Sweetest Day was a universal holiday, but apparently not. Wikipedia suggests that it's celebrated primarily in the Midwestern U.S. and "mostly in Cleveland."

Why exactly do we in Cleveland get stuck with this fake holiday? Because it was thought up in the 1920s by a group of Cleveland-area candymakers.

Not that they would profit by the existence of such a holiday, of course. No sir, that was just a coincidence.

Terry and I don't celebrate Sweetest Day. If I try to buy her anything that day, she yells at me for wasting money.

Which is one of the reasons why I love her. I think I'll save that Sweetest Day money and wait to buy her something instead on Leif Erikson Day.

Coaching girls sports: The easiest(?) gig on the planet

I'm nearing the end of my 11th season as a youth soccer coach. Through the years I've had the opportunity to coach all five of my kids, plus countless other Wickliffe soccer players ranging in age from 4 to 12.

One thing I've learned (as detailed here) is that the single most important item young soccer players want to know is what's for snack.

Dribbling, passing, shooting and soccer tactics are important, sure, but nothing captures their attention quite like the thought of those Mini Chips Ahoy bags and Capri Sun juice boxes just waiting on the sideline when the final whistle blows.

They also want to know what position they're going to play. And what the score is. And how much time is left. All information they could easily ascertain IF THEY WOULD JUST PAY ATTENTION FOR ONE SECOND.

Not that I get frustrated or anything. I'm perfectly fine with teaching them something and then five minutes later realizing they have no recall of what they just learned. After a decade of this, you kind of get used to it.

But that's really just with the younger ones. Once they get up to the U12 level (5th and 6th grade), it's a lot easier and a lot more fun to coach them. Especially if they're good.

I've had the great fortune of coaching some excellent soccer teams over the years. You just show up at the game, tell them who's starting at which position and who's going to sub in, and sit back and watch while the whole thing goes onto automatic pilot and they methodically destroy the other team. It's a lot of fun.

Of course, I've been on the other side of that equation a time or two, as well. That's not so fun. But you take the good with the bad, and on balance I've really enjoyed my years as a soccer coach.

My favorite thing is coaching girls. Not that I don't like coaching boys, but girls are more enjoyable for two reasons:

1. They listen (for the most part). They're actually coachable.
2. Contrary to stereotypes, they very much care whether they win or lose.

This second point is key. The older they get, the more vicious girls become on a soccer field.

I coached Chloe's high school girls indoor team this past winter, and they were nasty. Not in a bad way. Just in a "we're better than you and we're going to pummel you" kind of way. There were times when these normally bright and cheery girls actually frightened me.

You play a variety of roles when you coach girls, but perhaps none more important than that of team psychologist. Girls care so much, and are sometimes so fragile in the confidence department, that you have to keep their spirits up. You have to let them know it's OK to fail. You have to praise them a lot before you offer up criticism.

And I've gotten pretty good at it. Having three daughters has been excellent practice.

The other crucial role you play with girls is Official Jewelry Holder. The rules state that, for reasons of safety, players cannot wear dangly earrings, necklaces or bracelets during games. Most of the time they remember to leave these at home.

But when they don't, they take them off and I hear the familiar, "Coach Scott, can you hold this for me, please?" And of course I do, because really, what else am I going to do?

Besides taking a peek into the snack bag and maybe pulling out a sample for myself, of course. Let's make sure we have our priorities straight here.

I'm losing my ongoing battle with red lights

Let me start by saying I understand the value of traffic lights in our society. One of the first in the world was installed right here in Cleveland, and I get why we need them.

Let me also say how much I hate them.

Or, maybe more accurately, how much they hate me. Oh, don't give me the old "they're just inanimate objects that can't think or feel anything." I know the truth. I know they're out to get me.

Just ask my family.

One of the long-running jokes in our house is how I attract red lights. My son firmly believes there are sensors built into every intersection in our area, and that when they detect my car coming, they ensure I'll have to wait three full minutes before I'm allowed to pass.

This is silly, of course. It's rarely more than 2½ minutes.

Honestly, though, it's astounding how often I encounter red lights. At first I thought it was just me, but then years ago when I started driving my wife (then girlfriend) around, she noticed it right away.

"How come you hit every single light red?" she would ask. "How is that possible?"

I don't know, Terry, I don't know. It's just one of those things that...is. Like snow in winter and the Indians in last place in October, it just is. There's no point in questioning it.

Yet I do question it. Because it doesn't seem possible. I've long figured there must be some logical explanation I simply haven't been able to discern.

Do I drive at the exact speed at which I'm most likely to be caught by multiple lights in any given stretch of road? Do I just drive in areas that are more traffic light-intensive? Am I simply a victim of probability?

I can't tell you. What I do know, however, is that I want to be a traffic engineer. Because the ones we have programming our lights now are either mentally deficient or sadistic. Or both.

I say this because I am constantly − constantly − sitting stopped at lights with no cross traffic there to take advantage of the green light in the perpendicular direction. I just sit and watch an empty street in front of me for one, two, or yes, even three minutes at a time.

Has traffic light technology not progressed to the point that we can vary the frequency with which the lights change based on time of day, traffic patterns, etc.? Or is it already tied to other, more arbitrary factors, such as the orbit of Saturn or the value of the Belgian franc? It may as well be.

I understand that some lights are programmed to control traffic flow. But it seems the flow they're always trying to prevent is me flowing to my destination. What exactly did I do to deserve this?

If a given car trip takes a regular person, say, 15 minutes, it will take me 20. I always build in 5-10 minutes of ESLT (Extra Scott Light Time) because I know it will be coming.

And who do you talk to about this anyway? It's probably someone in our local government. When I find out the person's name, I'm going to get in my car and drive to City Hall to give them a piece of my mind.

The trip shouldn't take any more than, I would say, four hours. Five at the most.

LIVE BLOG: Walking 16 miles to Downtown Cleveland...again: FINAL UPDATE: 2:25 pm

So today we're going to try something different.

I plan to walk this morning from my house in the beautiful metropolis of Wickliffe, Ohio, to Tower City in not-quite-as-beautiful-but-still-nice downtown Cleveland, Ohio. A distance of about 16 miles.

I've taken this walk twice before. I actually enjoy the experience, particularly having several hours with just me and the iPod.

Only this time I'm going to chronicle the journey for anyone who, for whatever reason, might care. Check back here throughout the morning as I attempt to navigate the thumb-breaking process of Blogging by Smart Phone while I walk.

I'll post updates throughout the trip, which I expect to begin around 8:30 a.m. EDT and to take somewhere in the neighborhood of four hours.

I'll try and change the headline to this post every time I update it (with the approximate time of the update). That's assuming I can walk and type at the same time without killing myself and others.

I hope you'll join me!

8:29 am -  And we're off! Game time temperature: 41 degrees. The shorts may or may not have been a good idea...

8:43 am - Are we there yet? Walking and typing = hard.

9:14 am - 3.16 miles down. About 14:15/mile. No chafing. Yet. Hello,  Richmond Heights!

9:54 am - Will be meeting my wife and daughter for lunch at Tower City.  Brought snacks, but that Subway sub sounds awfully good about now. 5.75 miles covered in 1:23.

10:45 am - In beautiful Cleveland Heights. Always seems like a nice place. Also, I have to pee. 9.01 miles down.

11:15 am - Crossing into the City of Cleveland proper. Next up: Little Italy. 11.06 miles covered.

Noon - East 71st and Euclid. Legs hurt a little. 13.72 miles down. People looking at me strangely. Need a second wind!

12:45 pm - Done! 16.58 miles. 4 hours, 10 minutes. Just over 15:00/mile for the walk. Let's eat.


FINAL UPDATE 2:25 P.M. - SAFE AND SOUND AT HOME:
Terry, Elissa and I had a very nice lunch. We dropped Elissa off back at her dorm (she joined me for the last mile or so of the walk) then drove back here to Wickliffe. My quadriceps muscles are killing me. Good gracious they hurt. Hamstrings, calves, etc. are all fine, just the quads. Ouch. That's going to take a few days to recover from.

I have to say that while it was fun, I have to retire that particular walk after three successful attempts. It's not the safest route (parts of it, anyway), and I think I want a new challenge. Maybe a 20-miler. We'll see. In the meantime, thanks for checking in! We'll see you tomorrow for a post in which I mindlessly complain about red lights...