- Nov 12, 2009
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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 honor 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
OH MY----HOW TRUE THIS IS!!!
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 honor 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
OH MY----HOW TRUE THIS IS!!!
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