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: Mum 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, Mum 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 thirty 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 called him TV.
He has a wife now....we call her "Computer"
Their first child is "Cell Phone".
Second child "IPod"
And JUST BORN FEW YEARS BACK WAS a Grandchild
"IPAD"
