The Stranger
A few years after I was born, my Dad met a stranger
who was new to our area. 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. After our long
time visitor stayed longer he became more daring however,
and even 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 "
A few years after I was born, my Dad met a stranger
who was new to our area. 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. After our long
time visitor stayed longer he became more daring however,
and even 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 "