When I was about 8ish in the late 1970s, my mom and I used to listen to Paul Harvey in the car.  His shows were one of the highlights of our AM radio underscored trips to and fro.  One day, however, I heard a "The Rest of the Story" that changed (well scarred) my little life.  We were driving along as usual, and Paul was spinning one of his yarns.  The story included a bit about a young man suffering hearing loss as a result of a baseball injury.  That was, of course, the "rest of the story" about statesman and presidential advisor Bernard Baruch.  Shortly thereafter, I was kicked in the head during a soccer game.  Paul's words rang in my ears. I was sure I was going to lose my hearing just like this Bernard guy.  I walked around for days pained, anxious, and sure I would go deaf any second.  I finally told my mom about my impending fate.  She made it clear that I would NOT lose my hearing.  From that point on, Paul and I had a love/hate relationship. I still loved hearing about "the rest of the story," but, man, did that guy scare me a little. 

I forgive you Mr. Harvey.