Moderation in all things

Our modern lives are incessantly bombarded by media stories and promos about health issues, diseases, medicine and lifestyles. Good examples are Readers Digest and all-nightly news casts. Hypochondriacs must go crazy.

Maybe overdoses of info started after World War II with the big "cranberry cancer fiasco." Iris and I stopped buying them; however, it wasn't long before other scientists came out saying cranberries were better for you than three weeks in Hawaii.

Can't remember when we got the news that salt and sugar where bad. I was leery enough to only give the findings 10 percent credibility. Cut back on both but sneaked extra salt with some foods like baked potatoes. I "sneaked" salt because Iris asked me to "watch it," and I didn't want her feeling guilty if she got my life insurance money.

When jogging became a health fad, I started a running club. Nobody likes to suffer alone. Went to the track every morning. At first, no one wanted to join because they didn't like getting up early, running in all kinds of weather, then going home to clean up; however, I'm a good salesman, and within a few weeks had six members. I'd wheeze along telling them how wise we were.

When tongues where practically hanging on the ground I would extol the value of searing pain in the lungs and good things that come from burning agony in the legs. Some would gasp at me to "shut up."

Then reports came out about many joggers having joint problems. This was followed by research papers saying joggers were ruining their feet. Final blow was the guru of jogging dying of a heart attack before his 50th birthday. I quit my group and began sleeping in.

Then an issue of Wall Street Journal in the fall of 1991 carried the kind of story people seriously concerned about a healthy life could not ignore. The headline said, "Alcohol drinks may aid heart."

The exciting scientific discovery revealed, "Drinking may be bad for your liver, but new and persuasive medical research suggests it's a good thing for your heart. A study of more than 51,000 men shows those who consume from one-half to two drinks a day reduce their risk of heart disease by 26 percent compared with men who abstain."

When Iris got home in late afternoon, she came in the living room to give me a little kiss, but reacted in a mildly hostile manner. "George! Have you been drinking? I smell something on your breath, and what's in your glass?"

"Yes," I replied. "I've had a touch of brandy over the rocks."

"Well, I don't approve of this kind of thing. You aren't going to make it a habit are you?"

"Iris. Surely you don't think I enjoy coming home from a hard day's work and then have to sit here forcing this vile concoction down my threat?"

"George, suffering people don't usually have a grin on their face."

"Don't let that fool you, sweety pie. I'm just smiling to hide my feelings of revulsion over this terrible stuff; but here, read the latest medical research from the Wall Street Journal. It will explain why I have to do this."

Iris took the clipping and glanced through a few paragraphs saying, "Well! That sounds pretty convincing, especially after studies of more that 51,000 men, but I'm not convinced."

I asked her to please read the last paragraph aloud. She read, "A study published in 1988 found that women who consume moderate amounts of alcohol reduce risk of heart disease by about 40 percent."

After being on this special health program for 20-some years, Iris and I agree that if someone should come up with a new study that says brandy or wine is of no help in warding off heart trouble, we are going to completely ignore it as being another example of meddlesome propaganda.

G. George Ostrom is a national award-winning Hungry Horse News columnist. He lives in Kalispell.