Saturday, April 12, 2014


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.

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