He’s a Believer…
Television. Wow! What an invention. No, it is more than an invention like a toaster or an ipod. It is our personal universe on demand. I can stand by rain swollen rivers in East Africa, have an intimate conversation while sipping Colombian coffee with a famous person on a Sunday morning, vacation in Tibet while looking for the legendary Yeti or investigate a black hole without losing molecular cohesion. I have all of that without going through the metal detectors at the airport. What fun! Gosh, it is fun! And don’t we love it so?
I often wonder if this too good or too bad? How much viewing is too much? What happens if I view too much? Fortunately, no one has ever produced the definitive answer to those troubling questions. Does anyone want to do that? I have heard, mostly in jest, well maybe, that when something tastes too good, it has to be bad for you. What does change after viewing a thing so sweet? It is hard to imagine the experience so beneficial can be harmful. For instance, I can discuss the “string theory” concerning the Universe, albeit, not for long. I learned it on TV. Knowing so much is an oh-so-sweet indulgence and educational too.
Yet! A hint of a whisper of a thought enters my head and I am thinking that there could be a dark side somewhere. Could I have missed it while lost in the glory of seeing it all? Am I drugged by HD color overlaid by the mysteries of ancient worlds? Let’s face it, you and I are grown, responsible people. We know what is real. Yet, the thought persists that real is more a matter of perception and interpretation. Witnesses to crimes often report different information to authorities when describing the event. What do we believe these days? Why?
I remember an eon of time ago post WWII, which now seems as far back any of the other eon of the past, like the Jurassic when no one had a television. That was really not too long ago either. I told a kid at work that I had no television when I was a kid. I hope to never see that expression again. How we survived it I just do not know. Our days then must seem now like days as exciting as watching grass grow. Even so, there seemed to be something.
Although, something was prevalent then that is not experienced now. Something was an important part of the fabric of a time. It was nothing as noticeable as electricity that is really missed when it goes out. It comforted us to sleep at night with the doors unlocked and to invite strangers to dinner. We spent time with people we knew and trusted whose conversation was believable if not compelling. We were unaware of immense things like Islam, nuclear power, global warming, tofu or, even, hydrocarbons. Certainly, no one knew we had free-range chickens, pesticide free vegetables or single parent families. We were so young and no one tried to change that. We didn’t have to sift through the benefits of stress vs. body fat, or who manufactures the reddest, all day lip stick, or which political party has been highjacked by the devil the most?
It did not matter. Our world had people who loved us; who died protecting us, liked us and looked over us. These were not issues of the day. These were just the way things were. People seemed to somehow know the way and trusted in each other.
My Dad, Buddy, was a family man. He was handsome with a smile like Clark Gable including the ears, employed in an interesting profession and very trustworthy. You know, a father who made everything safe and who knew all the answers to the hard questions including math. He grew up on a family farm, survived smallpox, a world war serving in North Africa, the Korean conflict and still played golf every chance he got even if the ground was frozen or even if he was basically lame at the game. He knew about his game. It did not matter. He just loved the game.
Seemingly, without warning, something shifted and we were blindsided. We had no way of even knowing to look out for it. Sometime we must have blinked. No one could say when or why it happened. It just happened as an invisible piece of the cultural fabric slide out of time. A piece of culture blinked out and we never noticed we were in the dark. It definitely began beyond the acres of tall pines where each day was woven into a lifetime. It sounded like a faint whisper in the vast stillness. It was like the swish of a vacuum seal when a can of coffee is opened. It was just wrong. Houston, we have ignition, the explosion of a new age.
Daddy told us about the new age in his own matter-of-fact way without even knowing it. He came home one day announcing that he had watched TV in a downtown store window. He said to me that he knew the color of Perry Como’s hair. “Guess!” Now, for you people who never heard of the crooner compare him to Michael Buble', only older. Of course, I guessed his hair was black. Dad pronounced Perry’s hair to be blue. It was the darnest thing he had seen. In surprise, I protested with an it cannot be blue exclamation. He said he was sure. He actually saw his hair. What was not to believe? He saw Perry on TV himself. Blue? How did he see blue on a black and white TV? It was more like shades of gray. What is going on here? There he was facing me with that great smile. Daddy! There it was. Daddy was persuaded. Daddy was a believer. There was no doubt about it and it was not even HD.
Television. Wow! What an invention. No, it is more than an invention like a toaster or an ipod. It is our personal universe on demand. I can stand by rain swollen rivers in East Africa, have an intimate conversation while sipping Colombian coffee with a famous person on a Sunday morning, vacation in Tibet while looking for the legendary Yeti or investigate a black hole without losing molecular cohesion. I have all of that without going through the metal detectors at the airport. What fun! Gosh, it is fun! And don’t we love it so?
I often wonder if this too good or too bad? How much viewing is too much? What happens if I view too much? Fortunately, no one has ever produced the definitive answer to those troubling questions. Does anyone want to do that? I have heard, mostly in jest, well maybe, that when something tastes too good, it has to be bad for you. What does change after viewing a thing so sweet? It is hard to imagine the experience so beneficial can be harmful. For instance, I can discuss the “string theory” concerning the Universe, albeit, not for long. I learned it on TV. Knowing so much is an oh-so-sweet indulgence and educational too.
Yet! A hint of a whisper of a thought enters my head and I am thinking that there could be a dark side somewhere. Could I have missed it while lost in the glory of seeing it all? Am I drugged by HD color overlaid by the mysteries of ancient worlds? Let’s face it, you and I are grown, responsible people. We know what is real. Yet, the thought persists that real is more a matter of perception and interpretation. Witnesses to crimes often report different information to authorities when describing the event. What do we believe these days? Why?
I remember an eon of time ago post WWII, which now seems as far back any of the other eon of the past, like the Jurassic when no one had a television. That was really not too long ago either. I told a kid at work that I had no television when I was a kid. I hope to never see that expression again. How we survived it I just do not know. Our days then must seem now like days as exciting as watching grass grow. Even so, there seemed to be something.
Although, something was prevalent then that is not experienced now. Something was an important part of the fabric of a time. It was nothing as noticeable as electricity that is really missed when it goes out. It comforted us to sleep at night with the doors unlocked and to invite strangers to dinner. We spent time with people we knew and trusted whose conversation was believable if not compelling. We were unaware of immense things like Islam, nuclear power, global warming, tofu or, even, hydrocarbons. Certainly, no one knew we had free-range chickens, pesticide free vegetables or single parent families. We were so young and no one tried to change that. We didn’t have to sift through the benefits of stress vs. body fat, or who manufactures the reddest, all day lip stick, or which political party has been highjacked by the devil the most?
It did not matter. Our world had people who loved us; who died protecting us, liked us and looked over us. These were not issues of the day. These were just the way things were. People seemed to somehow know the way and trusted in each other.
My Dad, Buddy, was a family man. He was handsome with a smile like Clark Gable including the ears, employed in an interesting profession and very trustworthy. You know, a father who made everything safe and who knew all the answers to the hard questions including math. He grew up on a family farm, survived smallpox, a world war serving in North Africa, the Korean conflict and still played golf every chance he got even if the ground was frozen or even if he was basically lame at the game. He knew about his game. It did not matter. He just loved the game.
Seemingly, without warning, something shifted and we were blindsided. We had no way of even knowing to look out for it. Sometime we must have blinked. No one could say when or why it happened. It just happened as an invisible piece of the cultural fabric slide out of time. A piece of culture blinked out and we never noticed we were in the dark. It definitely began beyond the acres of tall pines where each day was woven into a lifetime. It sounded like a faint whisper in the vast stillness. It was like the swish of a vacuum seal when a can of coffee is opened. It was just wrong. Houston, we have ignition, the explosion of a new age.
Daddy told us about the new age in his own matter-of-fact way without even knowing it. He came home one day announcing that he had watched TV in a downtown store window. He said to me that he knew the color of Perry Como’s hair. “Guess!” Now, for you people who never heard of the crooner compare him to Michael Buble', only older. Of course, I guessed his hair was black. Dad pronounced Perry’s hair to be blue. It was the darnest thing he had seen. In surprise, I protested with an it cannot be blue exclamation. He said he was sure. He actually saw his hair. What was not to believe? He saw Perry on TV himself. Blue? How did he see blue on a black and white TV? It was more like shades of gray. What is going on here? There he was facing me with that great smile. Daddy! There it was. Daddy was persuaded. Daddy was a believer. There was no doubt about it and it was not even HD.
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