The American Spectator

I love it. The pool, the golf course, the palm trees, the stars, the wind in the palms. It is like a magical bubble that I happened to find my way into. I like it and want to spend more time there inside my perfect little golf-swimming-pool-clubhouse globe. I like it a lot. I mean, a real, real lot. It was a lot of money, but not for paradise.

p> SUNDAY br> HERE I AM ONE A SET AT CBS at Beverly Drive and Fairfax in Los Angeles. This happens to be a famous set because Dallas was shot here for a time (I am told) and mostly now because American Idol is made here. Today, however, we are making a show for VH-1 about the history of game shows. I am the host of it. It is a five-hour or maybe five half-hour series and it’s pretty funny. But, wow, is it tiring. I have to shout over the noise of a large, cheering audience and my voice is getting hoarse. I wish I were back at Morningside Country Club having my picture taken with those cute girls at the next table. /p>

I finished the shooting and dragged myself home in a near comatose condition. Now, here comes something interesting which is possibly useful.

On the way back from Rancho Mirage last night, I had an attack of colitis (probably because I did not want to leave) and I was desperately sick at many gas stations and restaurants and arrived home in a state of acute unhappiness. Then I had this long, maddening day today on the set, driven crazy by all the cheering that I had to shout over.

So, I was exhausted and in a very, very bad mood and my wife was not home to boot.

Twenty years ago, I would have become hysterical and probably taken powerful drugs (prescription drugs) and been really crazed.

Instead, I lay in bed with my dogs and I prayed. I thought, “Thank you, God, that you allow me to have a home in Rancho Mirage on a golf course. Thank you, God, that I have a house in Beverly Hills. Thank you, God, that I have interesting work to do. Thank you that I have a wife who will come home tomorrow. Thank you for my parents who taught me the value of hard work. Thank you for letting me be in America. My problems would be other peoples’ dreams.”

That helped. Then I thanked God for each and every man and woman who has fought and sacrificed, every mother and father who has lost a son on Iwo Jima or Bastogne or Vella Lavella or Monte Cassino or Pusan or Chosin Reservoir or the Ia Drang Valley or Ar-Ramadi or Najaf, for their sacrifice so we can live it up in the Morningside Clubhouse. Here is a simple truth: humanity has been far better to me than I have been to humanity. All this through the gifts of God. And if I talk about this endlessly it is because God and the angels He has sent to protect me merit endless praise and glory.