The Stranger

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

As I grew up, I never questioned his place with in my family. In my young
mind, he had a special niche. Mu parents were complimentary
instructors: Mom taught me good from evil, adn Dad taught me to obey.
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 the past, understood the present and
even seemed able to predict the future! He took my family to the firstmajor league baseball game. He made me laught, and he made me cry.
The stranger never stopped talking, but Dad didn't seem to mind.

Sometiimes, 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 the kitchen for peace and quiet. ( I wonder 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 didn't permit the liberal use of alcohol. But the stranger encouraged us to try it on a regular basis.

He made cigarettes look cool, ciagrs manly and pipes distinguished. His comments were blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarassing.

I now know that my early concepts about realtionships were influeced 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 isn't nearly as facinating as he was at first. Still,
if you could walk into my parents' den today, you woud still find him stitting
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" He has a wife now....We call her'Computer'

author unkown.