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1/21/1999 War ZoneThis morning Tab and I dropped Daniel off at kindergarten as usual and then took Stephen and Matthew to the doctor for their annual physical. It really should have been done after their birthday, late last August or September. But whenever I remembered long enough to try to call for an appointment, the phone drones there would tell me that the computer was down or they weren't scheduling yet for that month, or some other excuse. And I would forget to call back, and another month would slip by. But our HMO has been much in the local news lately. Fiscal mismanagement has all but destroyed it, and by mid-February it may be out of business altogether. So I finally made that appointment for them. Matthew, surprisingly, was more cooperative than Stephen. Stephen would not open his mouth for the pediatrician, would not tell her how old he was, would not draw a circle. Matthew, though clinging to me like a baby monkey to its mother's fur, did all these things, after only a few minutes of cajoling. Both the twins are still in the 25th percentile for both height and weight. Stephen is 29 lbs., and Matthew is 27.5 lbs. Both are 37" tall. From about age 3 on Daniel has remained in the 50th percentile for height and 25th for weight. I'm glad none of our boys have weight problems. Today I was watching a PBS Frontline special I had taped, entitled "Fat," which was about the paradox of Americans' increasing obesity and concurrent growing obsession with thinness. One statistic I heard on the program astounded me. In the course of one year, the average American child sees 10,000 commercials for food products, 90 percent of which are for soda, sugar-coated cereals, fast food, and candy. So there is yet another reason to not let our boys watch commercial television. I told Tab that I discovered a route to Daniel's school through back streets, and that it is nearly as quick as taking Route One. I described the route to him. Staring at me incredulously, Tab responded, "You do know that's a war zone, don't you?" Well, no, I didn't. Okay, the buildings are derelict and shabby; it's not the nicest part of town. But the people I see walking the streets appear to be just folks going about the business of life--shopping, returning from school, talking to neighbors. No obvious crack addicts or criminals among them. I've felt far more frightened on bad weather days careening down Route One, with its insane left exits and gullies of potholes, being passed by cars and trucks doing 15 to 20 mph over the speed limit.
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