A few
years after I was born, my Dad met a stranger who was new to our small town.
From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer and soon
invited him to live with our family. The stranger was quickly accepted and was
around from then on. As I grew up, I never questioned his place in my family. In
my young mind, he had a special niche.
My parents were complementary
instructors: Mom taught me good from evil, and Dad taught me to obey. But the
stranger... he was our storyteller. He would keep us spellbound for hours on end
with adventures, mysteries and comedies. If I wanted to know anything about
politics, history or science, he always knew the answers about the past,
understood the present and even seemed able to predict the future!
He
took my family to the first major league ball game. He made me laugh, and he
made me cry. The stranger never stopped talking, but Dad didn't seem to mind.
Sometimes, Mom would get up quietly while the rest of us were shushing each
other to listen to what he had to say, and she would go to the kitchen for peace
and quiet. (I wonder now if she ever prayed for the stranger to
leave.)
Dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions, but the
stranger never felt obligated to honour them. Profanity, for example, was not
allowed in our home - not from us, our friends or any visitors. Our long time
visitor, however, got away with four-letter words
that burned my ears and made my dad squirm and my mother blush. My Dad didn't
permit the liberal use of alcohol but the stranger encouraged us to try it on a
regular basis. He made cigarettes look cool, cigars manly, and
pipes distinguished. He talked freely (much too freely!) about sex. His comments
were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing.. I now know that my early
concepts about relationships were influenced strongly by the
stranger.
Time after time, he opposed the values of my parents, yet he
was seldom rebuked... And NEVER asked to leave. More than fifty years have
passed since the stranger moved in with our family. He has blended right in and
is not nearly as fascinating as he was at first. Still, if you could walk into
my parents' den today, you would still find him sitting over in his corner,
waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his
pictures.
His name!!!
We just call him 'TV.'(Note:
This should be required reading for every household!)
He has a wife now...
we call her 'Computer.'
Their
first child is "Cell
Phone".Second child "I Pod"
And JUST
BORN THIS YEAR WAS a Grandchild:
IPAD
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