It’s the other day in Pittsburgh and a friend emails with the news … “Hey, you’re on TV!”
A couple of nights later I got around to watching online.
I wanted to see this brief interview, quite honestly, by myself. TV is not my thing. I felt somewhat embarrassed about it all.
My Bride, some of you know, was also on air several times recently during a week-long telethon on Burlington’s Yes TV, a fundraiser carried out on behalf of Jean’s baby, Save the Mothers.
See the first of these informative episodes here, as well as how charming and stunningly beautiful my wife is, especially on air. (You can also see in these clips see the horror of what goes on with expectant and young mothers in hard places like East Africa.)
We are thankful and humbled that others are putting this sort of energy into it all, bringing attention to Jean’s work in Africa, which, of course, is not only Jean’s work but her entire team’s work.
The added surprise was that some producer apparently also wondered how The Dad managed in all this back-and-forth business to Africa, this, what I call, two lives for the price of one. Yes, how does this family pull it all off? There are three kids to factor into things. There were questions.
Let’s ask The Dad!
So after the event (it was taped) I was lying down in that quiet moment – it was late – watching, strangely enough, myself on my i-pad and I was wishing that I looked a little, you know, different while on air.
And then Liz showed up moved beside me and said, “Hey, Dad, you’re on TV!”
Then Mom came and said “Hey! Can I watch?”
So we watched together and, yes, it was weird. But then Mom and Liz assured me that everything looked fine, that while TV might do strange things to people, I appeared to have control of my bladder and other important things.
Someone said I even said one thing or another that resonated.
The subject of my own Dad (I didn’t meet my Dad Froese until the day before my 3rd birthday) even came into the discussion.
All fitting, I suppose, with Father’s Day around the corner.
If you wish, you can find the TV interview here.
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Son comes in and complains about older sister spreading rumours that he likes a girl in his class.
He doesn’t like her, he says.
Dad: What’s her name?
Son: Ella
Do you like her?
No.
Are you sure?
Yes! She is sooo annoying!
You don’t like her even a bit?
No!
Does she like you?
No! Dad, she squirts water right in my face!
Maybe that means she likes you. Sometimes that happens – someone will do things like that because they like you.
No!
I liked a girl once. Her name was Corrinne. I threw a rock and hit her in the back to show her how much I liked her. And I pulled her hair too. Regularly. She sat in the seat in front of me with her long black hair right there, just for me to grab and pull.
Son laughs, leaves, emboldened, encouraged, more roundly educated on the finer nuances of young love.