Previous addiction to soap opera reveals much

I hit cultural rock-bottom when I was in my late 20s: I was addicted to a soap opera TV show.

I'm grateful to still be around.

The problems started almost three decades ago – in the late 1980s, to be precise. I hadn't watched soap operas, because they were ridiculous. They seemed as bad as the parodies that appeared on shows such as "The Carol Burnett Show," where they would exaggerate the absurd nature of the over-the-top drama.

Then came Mrs. Brad's lunch breaks.

I was working evenings at the Daily Republic and Mrs. Brad had a day job in town, resulting in a lunch hour together daily. She would come home while I was getting ready to head to the office. We ate, talked . . . and soon, we watched "All My Children," something she had done as a teen.

It was as silly as I expected, but it was a comfortable habit in the pre-DVR, pre-Netflix days. On "All My Children," the denizens of Pine Valley went about their lives, with divorces, affairs, arrests, schemes, etc. It was entertaining in a strange way.

Soon it was appointment television. Then it became worth recording on our primitive VCR, to be sure we didn't miss anything.

The best part? Several co-workers watched it, too. So I could casually enter conversation about Adam Chandler and Palmer Courtlandt. We could talk about how ridiculous it was that Erica Kane was dating a Russian prince. We could laugh at the antics of teenage Hayley (played by Kelly Ripa!).

It became a regular event. Every day at noon, Mrs. Brad and I would watch. When our first son was born, it was nice to be able to unplug and watch while he slept or ate or crawled. We recorded all episodes, so we wouldn't be slaves to the TV schedule.

It seemed normal.

And then . . .

One day, I gave a ride to a co-worker who was a casual watcher of the program. He asked what was happening on "All My Children."

"Well, Natalie is in a coma but we found out she has a twin sister named Janet," I told him. "Janet pretended to be Natalie and steal Trevor and he doesn't know the truth. Erica and Travis' marriage is on the rocks, and she looks like she's going to hook up with his brother, Jackson. And then Tad and Dixie are . . ."

I heard myself. I sounded like a Carol Burnett character describing an over-the-top soap opera in a skit: "As the Stomach Turns."

It was an eye-opener. I had gone from skeptic to sampler to true believer.

In two years, I had accepted that it was normal for a man in his 20s to watch a silly soap opera and follow the plot.

I felt ridiculous.

Mrs. Brad and I talked and decided it was enough. We stopped watching "All My Children." I went back to mocking those who do.

But whenever I get too carried away making fun of someone for being plugged into "Vanderpump Rules" or "The Real Housewives of Atlanta," I think back to that time when Mrs. Brad and I fell into a trap and became fanatics for "All My Children."

I'm grateful that it's behind me.

The only thing worse than being addicted to a soap opera (which is now off the air) would be to have 10 marriages, like Erica Kane!

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

The definitive punctuation mark rankings, period

Punctuation, of course, matters. Otherwise, there's no difference between "let's eat, Grandma" and "let's eat Grandma."

Grandma knows there's a difference. And she'd be glad to hear you say, "Sorry, I love you." But not, "sorry I love you."

Punctuation marks are important. But how do they rate? Glad you asked. As a professional writer, I use punctuation marks every day and keep a handy list of how I rank them (not really, but play along for purposes of this column).

Following are the top 10 punctuation marks, from least to most important (correct use is significant, too).

10. Semicolon. The most-frequently misused punctuation mark; it is sometimes used as a replacement for a comma or even a colon. I hate semicolons – in my writing, they're replaced by a dash or by breaking the thought into two sentences. Like this.

9. Single quotation mark. Here's the rule: They are used to indicate quotes inside of quotes. "Frank said he told her 'go away,’ ” is correct. All other uses (frequently used to refer to TV or book titles) are wrong. You don't want to use them like 'this.'

8. Hyphen. This is how we combine words, giving them a first-class identification. The only exception is when an adverb is part of a compound word, usually indicated by the first word ending in "ly," although family-friendly is acceptable (since family isn't an adverb. But that's another column).

7. Colon. It's the preferred way to identify a single entity: The colon. Although people sometimes confuse it with its idiot cousin, the semicolon, the colon is a strong way to indicate a conclusion: The colon rocks.

6. Quotation mark. They're double and they go around things people say, titles of all compositions except the Bible and are often misused by people to indicate emphasis. My favorite: A church sign years ago that said this: "Jesus" is the reason for the season. The marks indicated that Jesus was perhaps his nickname.

5. Apostrophe. Indicates possession or a contraction, although many people struggle with the choice between it's and its. In this one exception, there is no apostrophe in the possessive. But don't forget it in forming a contraction. You cannot get away with that. You just can't.

4. Question mark. Every sentence ends with a question mark or period, but this punctuation form trails the period because you can write around it. How can you do that? Thusly: One may question how you can do that.

3. Dash. This is the form of punctuation that I – someone who generally follows convention – have been accused of overusing. I believe the dash – which is different from a hyphen – is a great way to set off parenthetical thoughts without using a parenthesis.

2. Comma. It provides breaks and breaths in your sentences. In fact, commas provide breaks, breaths and indicate the start and end of quotes. I am a strong opponent of the "Oxford" or "serial" comma, which nonsensically appears before the word "and" in a list. I follow Associated Press style: There is no comma before "and," except when items in a list include the word "and."

1. Period. The oxygen of the writing world. When your elementary school teacher lectured about semicolons and commas, the only thing you really had to know to use was the period. You can write sentences and get your point across without anything but a period. It's the most important punctuation mark. Period.

Brad Stanhope is a former Daily Republic editor who is pretty sure he made a punctuation mistake in this column that will be mocked. Reach him at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Tidbits as we start daylight saving time

It's the best day of the year: The first day of daylight saving time, when we regain the end-of-the-day hour of sunshine that the government stole from us in early November.

Starting tonight, you can drive home from work without headlights. You can mow the lawn in the evening. Kids can play after dinner. Summer is coming. The rains will soon end.

Our long winter is nearly over. It's the end of daylight wasting time.

Contrary to what all the sun-hating quacks say, this is the way it's supposed to be. We're supposed to have sunny evenings, even if it means using our headlights in the morning.

We didn't fight the British in the Revolutionary War to have it be dark at 5 p.m.!

Oh, and it might be an hour later than you think, although the fact that our phones and most electronic devices automatically update.

It's daylight saving time, which also means it's time for me to empty a long winter's worth of notes:

• Golden State Warriors radio play-by-play announcer Tim Roye, who lives in Fairfield, is among the best in the world at his job.

Roye, who has been broadcasting Warriors games for 22 years (after six years in various roles with the Sacramento Kings), can be heard locally on KUIC (95.3 FM). Anyone who has tried to broadcast basketball – or even describe a play as it's happening – knows how difficult it is. Roye makes it seem easy.

He not only describes the game at the pace it's played, he frequently gives score and time updates (crucial on radio) and interjects humor into his broadcasts.

He also occasionally adds local color, such as describing a Rio Vista listener as living in "the gateway to the Delta."

With all due respect to the Giants' cluster of great broadcasters and Oakland Raiders tonsil Greg Papa, Tim Roye is the best radio play-by-play announcer in the Bay Area.

• If they ever finish the Green Valley Road overpass above Interstate 80, it will be great.

Until that happens, it will remain a 30-minute drive to go a quarter-mile. I feel bad for anyone who has to drive it regularly.

• Remind me, again: Is this a drought or flood?

We're always in one or the other, but I can't keep track.

• Phone app idea of the year: Something that starts playing music and applause, like they do to end long speeches at televised awards shows, on demand. Use it when someone starts to bore you with a long story, so you can get out of it and still appear gracious.

Wait! Are you playing me off?

• Despite all the undeserved grief he initially took at the Academy Awards, Warren Beatty reminded us that this remains true for him at 79: He's the coolest guy in any room.

I also choose to believe, despite recent explanations to the contrary, that he's the subject of Carly Simon's "You're So Vain."

• "The Great British Baking Show," back on Netflix, disproves that the theory behind American reality TV programming – that conflict is mandatory for success.

The show is about a group of nice, charming real British people who like each other and try to bake well. Sounds boring, but it's actually charming and enjoyable.

And nearly makes me forgive England for all that nonsense around 1776. Except the daylight saving time issue, of course.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

How I almost lost my car in floods of 2017

I survived the Northern California floods of 2017, but not unscathed.

Not even close. And my life-changing dance with death may end up on one of those Weather Channel specials about disasters. It was that crazy.

It all started one Tuesday – the day Interstate 80 in the Sierra was closed due to whiteout conditions and Highway 50 had a chunk fall away. The Oroville Dam spillway remained frighteningly close to collapsing.

And Mrs. Brad and I nearly lost our 2005 Prius.

We drove to meet with a group of church friends at the home of Matt and Atasha, who live in the semirural part of Green Valley. They have a circular driveway, so I decided to be polite (give room to others) and selfish (make it so no one can block me in) and parked on the dirt, just off the pavement.

We went in, had a great time and prepared to leave. I got in the car and Mrs. Brad stood in the driveway (since her shoes had gotten muddy while getting out. You can see where this is going, even though I couldn't) as I tried to back up.

The car didn't move. I thought there was something goofy (stupid hybrid! Maybe I forgot to turn it on!), so I tried again. Nothing. I got out. I looked at the front tires.

They were half-buried in the mud. The car had sunk in the mud! It was . . . (was it possible? Was my childhood nightmare coming true?) like quicksand!

It couldn't be serious. It was just a little mud. I had Mrs. Brad drive and I pushed.

No luck.

I went inside and got Matt. He came out and we both pushed.

No luck.

We found some boards he had lying around and put them right behind the front tires to provide traction.

No luck.

We got Matt's truck (by now, Mrs. Brad was inside, undoubtedly muttering about my decision to park on mud) and hooked up straps to pull the car out.

No luck. The straps broke.

We found a chain. No luck. The chain broke.

I stood in the Green Valley darkness, pondering whether my car was a goner. Priuses (Priui?) aren't built for off-roading and I could see that the bottom of the car was flush with the mud.

It was like a disaster movie!

Finally, I called a tow truck. About 30 minutes later, the driver arrived, used some sort of voodoo to lift the car and charged my insurance company (yes!) for the work. To his credit, the driver didn't ask why I thought it was a good idea to park on mud after weeks of rain.

Of course, my car had problems. The wheels wobbled once I hit 60 mph, which is necessary on my daily commute, but I took the car to a tire place.

The man there said that guys who drive four-wheelers often bring their vehicles in after mud gets stuck and they merely hose it off, which is what happened with the Prius.

He never asked why the car was so muddy. He never asked why I would park a Prius on mud. He never asked whether I saw my life flash before my eyes.

And he didn't charge me. But lesson learned. I'll never park in dirt again.

The floods of 2017 taught me that much.

And that I am a survivor.

Brad Stanhope is a former Daily Republic editor. Reach him at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.