Today I present two stories, neither of which would be considered important, but both of which provide a snapshot of our troubled times.

The first story is about Bob. He is 45. He is solidly in the middle class. He's married. He's got kids. He and his wife both have nice jobs. They own their own home. (Actually, they're making payments on the house.)

Three years ago, Bob quit smoking. He started working out. He got in shape. For the first time ever, he started watching his diet. He felt good. "The healthiest I've felt in years," is the way he put it. He even started considering the notion that he might quit drinking.

This self-improvement jag extended into other aspects of his life. He began to look at his finances. What could he do to secure the future? One thing he could do was buy a long-term disability policy. He applied for one.

He received a rejection notice in the mail. "After review of your application, we regret to inform you that we were unable to issue a policy to you because of your alcohol history as documented in your medical records," the letter said.

Bob called his doctor. What was the insurance company talking about?

It turns out that during his last physical exam, Bob had mentioned his idea of quitting drinking. "I said that I was concerned that maybe I was drinking a little too much, and that drinking was part of the family ritual," Bob told me. The doctor had made notes of the conversation.

Later, when Bob applied for the insurance, he signed a waiver allowing the insurance company to review his medical records. In those records, the insurance company found the doctor's notes.

Who are we supposed to blame for this? The doctor was simply doing his job, taking notes of his conversation with Bob. The insurance company underwriters were simply doing their jobs, taking note of the doctor's notes. Could it be Bob's fault for not realizing that anything he might say to his doctor could and would be used against him?

"The next time I visit the doctor I might say, 'Doctor, I'm down to a drink a week and have started to give talks on the perils of drinking. I picket liquor stores on weekends and pass out fliers on where to get help if you drink too much,'" Bob told me.

By the way, Bob asked that I not use his last name. Rest easy, Bob. You might have to be guarded in what you say to your doctor, but you can always count on the discretion of a newspaper columnist.

Then there is the case of the Cheetah Club.

Melissa was a member of that club. She is a fourth-grader in a suburban school district. Apparently, the name of the club had to do with the fact that cheetahs are fast animals. What the cheetah members did was this — they chased boys at recess.

Melissa's mother knew about the club and was not concerned. "It reminded me of my youth, when a bunch of us girls chased Richard Pierce every day at lunch to kiss him." Perhaps that sounds like a dissolute lifestyle for a child, but Melissa's mother overcame it. She is now a registered nurse who works in the cardiovascular intensive care unit at one of our better hospitals.

At any rate, the assistant principal called Melissa's mother a couple of weeks ago to tell her about the club — the assistant principal did not realize he was talking to somebody who used to chase Richard Pierce at lunch — and to announce that the school was putting a stop to the club.

First of all, the district does not approve of clubs that are not sponsored by the school. Private clubs could exclude youngsters and so on and so forth. Also, members of the cheetah club were violating the school's "no-touch" policy.

By the way, the cheetahs were not kissing the boys, just "tagging" them.

A couple of days later, the assistant principal called Melissa's mother again. Melissa was losing recess privileges for two days because she had been caught chasing a boy at recess. If this were to continue, Melissa would be given an in-school suspension.

I called the school, but was unable to speak to the principal or the assistant principal. That's understandable. It is difficult enough running a school in these litigious times without having to deal with the press. So trying to put myself in the shoes of the administrators, I would say that if you allow children to run around touching each other, you are asking for trouble.

On the other hand, as Melissa's mother said, "When did we stop letting kids be kids?"

Maybe about the same time we realized we ought not be too frank with our doctors.