The lost TV

When scrolling through the hundreds of satellite channels we have at our disposal on occasion, I am reminded of the choices we had for indoor entertainment when I was but a short first grader with a crew cut and a growing "uni-brow".
The term "disposal" might be a Freudian slip. I seem to recall my Mother saying more than once (a day) that the TV was "trashing" our minds. She also called it the One Eyed god.  In hindsight, I suppose we did look like faithful little disciples, kneeling in front of this object, eyes glazed, stares unbroken for hours. I now also appreciate her disdain for a lot of cartoons if watched for too long since we have installed flat screen televisions at work for the customers. The company purchased only four channels - ESPN, CNN, Disney and Nickelodeon, the last two meant to entertain the children of our customers.  I can see how the noise of Sponge Bob Square Pants can raise the angst of adults if played loud enough and long enough.

See how TV has affected my brain? I'm off the subject. It must be the influence of the TV remote.

Now some of you may be thinking "Oh, boy, another rant about how 'in MY day' he says they had to use pliers to change the channel and that they only had four stations, etc., etc., ramble ramble ramble."

Nay, nay, (a subliminal influence of Mr. Ed) nay.  I assume that most of my audience is my age, so that would be preaching to the choir.  Pay close attention, Wilbur, for this is a story that may explain a lot about yours truly.  For this is the story of how we lost our TV. For a very long time.

It's early morning on a school day back in January of 1968.  How do I remember this when I can't remember why I walk into the kitchen when holding an empty glass?  I remember because I was waiting impatiently for something to happen on TV so I could leave for school.  And also because what occurred was obviously traumatic.  You always remember the traumatic events of your life. I remember when...

Focus, focus.

I was watching my favorite morning show in glistening black and white, framed by a dull 19 inch plastic frame.
Mr. Peppermint. The good thing about black and white TV is that it required imagination. We didn't need color to know those stripes on his jacket were red.  Everyone knew peppermint was red and white.
Mr. Peppermint had numerous characters on his show, one being Mr. Wiggly Worm. This was high tech stuff.  No computer graphics here.  A finger of Mr. Peppermint was poked through a hole in his straw hat. He talked to his finger, essentially. And his finger talked back to him. This was great stuff for the studio, because they were getting two characters for the pay of one actor. And I was enthralled with it. Usually.

but today I was ready to scream at the screen "enough with Mr. Wiggly Worm! Get to the birthday list!!"

Yes, this day was not just any school day.  It was my 7th birthday. And I was going to stay in front of this TV set until my name was read by Mr. Peppermint on TEE VEE.  (I assume, at this point, that my Mom had mailed in a card or called in my name to the station to be read aloud by Mr. P.  I'm sure he wasn't psychic).

As the clock above the set ticked toward departure time for school, I grew more anxious. Hurry up! and PLEASE no commercials right now!!

Then just as Mr. Peppermint was wrapping up the worm show, the screen went black and a puff of smoke akin to the view Oppenheimer must have had those miles way from the first A-bomb test at Los Alamos rose up from the back of the TV set.
No, this is no joke. As God is my witness, the screen went black, and a puff of smoke akin...you get the idea.

I may have blacked out what followed as it was quite literally a shocking moment for this little TV addict, but I may have hit the set and wrangled the knob somewhat in a feeble attempt to get the picture back.

I truly don't recall how the day at school went. Small wonder, no?

I do recall we always took our TV sets to a man called Mr. Spring. Apparently he was not able to save the thing. Mom (who was, and I suppose, still is, a very spiritual person) considered it a sign from God, and she was not joking. As I grew older, I figured out how TV must have been changing and how it probably upset her to have us watching TV.  I also know her eyesight was probably getting to the point watching TV was a bit frustrating, a symptom of diabetes that began to plague her health around that time.  But I think it was mainly the fact that TV had gone from the innocence of Milton Berle and the Dick Van Dyke show to the emergence of Laugh In - off color humor for those days - to the news reels of Vietnam piped into American living rooms. That's one theory, anyway.  She also was the one that had to break up arguments of what show we wanted to watch and who's head was in the way and so forth.  And there was probably the expense of buying another set.

The silver lining of this catastrophic event was we as kids ended up reading more.  I bet you thought I was going to say that we played outside more. Nope, we already did that a LOT.  We had no need for incentive to go outside.  There truly weren't that many shows on TV during those years that interested children.  There was no Cartoon Land  cable on all day.  A short morning show, noon cartoons during the summer, and Saturday morning cartoons that lasted around 2 hours, I think. That was it. And watch the NEWS? No way! I'm going to Charles' house on my bike and playing army, Mom!

So I dog-eared the encyclopedias and encyclopedia Yearbooks we had.  During the summer, we swam at the city park pool and then we went to the library.  I'd check out a stack of books such as Peanuts, Hardy Boys, and others and have them read and back in a week. Give me a tube of saltines, a glass of strawberry Kool-Aid (don't ask me why, it was just really good) and I'd read for hours.

Now there were the weird stares we'd get if we visited someone with a TV, which was pretty much the rest of civilization.  We could be predicted to stop 4.5 feet from wherever the television was located in the house.  How long we stayed there depended on what was on.

So how did we watch history unfold? The first lunar walk by Neil Armstrong? Seven - 11 rental. These were always iffy.  You'd turn it on and get a picture at the store but something would happen in transit and you'd have to stand on your head to get the picture back.  Sometimes we'd have to go to a second or third store to find one available.  One being visible inside the store as you pulled up didn't mean it worked!
The moon walk was in black and white anyway, so there was no loss in renting a B & W for that event. The Dallas Cowboys first Superbowl victory?  Watched it at my Uncle Frank's with my cousin Joe. I still remember seeing him so happy, which was a good thing, since the Cowboys could always produce a red faced "Stupid stupid stupid!" bellowing from my Uncle.  (My mother's people were a fiery lot at times). "Look it that, Joe! Worl' Champions!!"
That was a great Sunday. And it was in color! I'm sure my uncle bought the first color set that hit the shelf.  He did love his TV.
I did finally get a TV set of my own.  A man who was a huge part of my life, Richard S. Bryan, taught choir, Musical Stage performance and, well, life lessons, at my high school.  He was like a second father to me, not that I needed one, of course. I was killing time one summer at his house (you could do that in those days) and we must have been talking about some show that I didn't see and it came up that we didn't have a television in the house.  Not a hardship thing, just had become accustomed to not having it around.  He had an old black and white 13 inch TV he wasn't using and just gave it to me. So I had my own personal set in my room after that. I actually used it to watch the Channel 13 (educational channel) course shows for my freshman college English Reading Comprehension class until I realized that it was better to watch the video tapes at the library during humane hours instead of staying up until 11:00pm or getting up at 7:00am on Saturday to watch them.

I wonder what ever happened to that set.

So that's the story. Now I think I'll go hit the bed, grab the battery powered "pliers" that allow me to lay unmoved and change the channel, color tint, volume and see what's on without looking for the Sunday paper TV Guide pages, then tilt my adjustable bed to just the right position, and watch the sharpest picture the world has ever seen until I fall asleep.