The Stranger
A few years after I was born, my
dad met a stranger who was new to
our small Texas 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 from then on.
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 good
from evil, and 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 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 our
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
the kitchen for peace and quiet. (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, 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, 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 could walk into my parents' 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.' He now has a wife now...we
call her 'Computer.' È
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Topic: The Stranger (Read 3736 times)