The
Stranger
A
few years after I was born, my Dad met a stranger who was new to our small
JERSEY 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 longtime 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.
We
just call him 'TV.'
(Note: This should be required reading for every household in America !)
He has a wife now...We call her 'Computer.'