In these modern times, there is no shortage of hippified parents hell-bent on raising their children without the mind-soothing powers of TV. But during my 1970’s childhood? Not so much. Not having a TV meant one thing: your family was poor. And we were. But come on…we weren’t THAT poor. My dad was simply anti-TV. And thus I grew up without the joys of television.
The only time I remember Dad talking about TV was his recounting of Neil Armstrong’s landing on the moon. That may have been the only TV my dad watched over a 30+ year span. Before I was born, he kept the TV in the attic. Clever. Too hot to watch in the summer months, and too freezy during the winter. And then there were long blackout periods: For whatever reason, my mom would periodically cut the cord. Literally. (I always wondered – was the cord plugged in when she cut it???) By the time I was born, the TV attic party was over. After the 3rd or 4th snip, Dad got tired of fixing the cord.
Last year my dad remarried. As it turns out, he married a TV addict. Well now. So…my dad came out for a visit over the weekend. During his visit our relationship took a giant leap forward. It’s all contained in the following statement he uttered: “There’s a show I watch. It’s pretty good. Maybe you’ve heard of it? It’s called ‘Everybody Loves Raymond'”.