Stranger In Our Midst. Thanx To Liz.

 


> >>>      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 longtime 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 parent’s 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!**
> >>        He has a younger sister now.  We call her,  “Computer.”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s