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THE STRANGER
A few
months before I was born, my Dad
met a stranger who was new to our
small Tennessee 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 to welcome
me into the world a few months
later.
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 the word of God, and Dad
taught me to obey it. 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
her room and read her books. (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 was a teetotaler who didn't
permit alcohol in the home, not
even for cooking. 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 were to 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 in
America!
NOTE:
Personally, I think we were a lot
better off without the STRANGER in
our home. Mr. T.V. changed
our lives and life-style; he
caused us to not have the good
conversations we once had, and
quality family time. Today,
you have 'families,' watching
their own T.V. sets in their own
rooms........seems like TV has
taken over the family.
Without Mr. TV we'd be more prone
to speaking, caring and being
together as a REAL family.
IN GOD WE TRUST
The Teacher Movie
From
My Desk
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