Food for thought...

...Interesting to think about.

The Stranger

A few years after I was born, my Dad met a stranger who was new to oursmall Texas town. From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with thisenchanting newcomer and soon invited him to live with our family. Thestranger was quickly accepted and was around from then on.

As I grew up, I never questioned his place in my family. In my youngmind, he had a special niche. My parents were complementaryinstructors: Mom taught me good from evil, and Dad taught me to obey.But the stranger...he was our storyteller. He would keep usspellbound for hours on end with Adventures, mysteries and comedies.

If I wanted to know anything about politics, history or science, healways knew the answers about the past, understood the present andeven seemed able to predict the future! He took my family to theirfirst 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 shushingeach other to listen to what he had to say, and she would go to thekitchen for peace and quiet. (I wonder now if she ever prayed for thestranger to leave.)

Dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions, but thestranger never felt obligated to honor them. Profanity, for example,was not allowed in our home... Not from us, our friends or anyvisitors. Our longtime visitor, however, got away with four-letterwords 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 strangerencouraged us to try it on a regular basis. He made cigarettes lookcool, cigars manly and pipes distinguished.

He talked freely (much too freely!) about sex. His comments weresometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing.

I now know that my early concepts about relationships were influencedstrongly by the stranger. Time after time, he opposed the values ofmy parents, yet he was seldom rebuked... And NEVER asked to leave.

More than fifty years have passed since the stranger moved in with ourfamily. He has blended right in and is not nearly as fascinating ashe was at first. Still, if you could walk into my parents' den today,you would still find him sitting over in his corner, waiting forsomeone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures.

His name?.... .. .We just call him 'TV'.

He has a wife now...We call her 'Computer.'