When I was four, my parents had a TV.
A wonderful, marvellous creation that stood on its own four
legs in one corner of the living room.
And, if one waited, showed the most magical, amazing programs.
Like Friendly Giant.
If one waited.
After breakfast, I would hurry to the living room—and the TV
therein—and look to see if something had appeared.
Usually, nothing had.
Let’s face it. I lived on a ranch. Breakfast was E.A.R.L.Y.
And the TV stations didn’t wake up until long after morning chores
were done.
Wussies.
I would stare at the dark screen for a while, quietly willing something to happen.
Then begin playing.
During those early hours, play often consisted of something
that kept me close to said TV.
Or following Mom around, asking when Friendly Giant would be
on.
Once in a while, the genius woman would say, “Soon,” park
her repetitive and annoying daughter in front of the set, and turn it on.
The Indian Head test pattern would show its familiar face.
So to speak.
And keep me entertained for some time.
Did you know that, if you stare at it long enough, it . . .
changes?
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Eventually, ‘O, Canada’ would start and, immediately after
that, I would see tiny little figures and ‘that big boot’.
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
My day had officially begun.
Moving forward a generation . . .
No longer did one ever stare at a blank screen or a test
pattern.
For my eldest son, it was a matter of watching some lessor show
whilst waiting for Sesame Street to come on.
Because the programs just kept on coming.
Another generation forward . . .
Yesterday, my granddaughter (Hereinafter known as Little Girl—or LG for
short—was sitting in her parents’ bedroom.
Looking up at the big screen TV on the wall.
The conversation went something like this:
LG: “Mo-om! I’m done watching that. I want to watch this,
now!”
Daughter: “Well, here’s the remote. Choose which one you
want.”
LG: “It’s taking too long.”
Me: “Sigh.”
