When times are tough, I watch TV. Today it's golf -- the Masters. Yesterday evening, it was the final game of the Chicago Bulls on WGN America. On Thursday night, it was Under the Gunn and then I forgot to turn on Vikings.
In an economic slump (which leads to a slump of the spirit), I turn to things that look nice, sound nice, or provide an escape. Or all three. Lately, I've been watching a lot of TV, but this is no different than when I was young. I depended on shows like "Bachelor Father," "Hazel," and "The Addams Family" to provide models of family life. Even the strangest families were comforting as long as they had a predictable dynamic.
I must have seen this on television: meat loaf every Thursday night, with mashed potatoes and canned corn. I begged for this but was ignored. Just something predictable -- that's what I wanted. So, when the summer began, I started to count off the days until the new television shows started. Ads said "six weeks until ...!" I couldn't wait because then my friends would be home from summer vacation.
I think I became near sighted watching too much TV, even though I observed the six-feet-away rule. Once I watched so much television that a blood vessel burst in my eye and I had to sit in a darkened room for several nights. That was nice, because my grandfather read me stories (even though he couldn't read English too well). I think he made them up -- things about honey bears and birds flying early in the morning and an old mulberry tree that had to be cut down.
Sometimes I turn on the television for company, in the background. And so, the evening comes and I wait for something familiar and that leads to comfort and then to sleep.