“Mom, why didn’t we have TV when we were growing up?” I asked her once. My husband and I were debating getting a set.
“We thought you five had other things to do: Homework, practicing the piano, trumpet, clarinet or trombone; helping with the housework and farm chores and basketball practice. Beside you had to go to bed early enough to do chores before catching the school bus in the morning.”
With our children, my husband and I embraced the same philosophy. Last year, when my father visited, however, he asked if we would hook up to cable TV for his entertainment. We didn’t have time to do it then: But this year it was hooked up before he arrived.
He enjoyed cable from our lounge chair a whole two weeks. Then he feel, broke his hip and watched it from a hospital bed. Although my father no longer occupied the guest room, cable TV and my daughter did.
As I gathered up papers for an evening writing class, I reminded her, “You are not to watch that movie. I don’t like what the previews showed.” She didn’t. I returned to a room cluttered with snack food with her in the middle watching the sit-coms I had missed as a teenager.
I sat down to see what I had missed. Not much. When I paid the first bill for cable TV, I discontinued the premium channel.
As I hauled in the groceries one afternoon, her books and papers were strewn across the floor. She was totally absorbed in a talk show.
“Hey, turn that off,” I demanded.
“But Mom, they’re talking about why fraternity hazing is bad.”
I let it stay on as I fixed supper. It was interesting, but they made their point in 15 of the 60 minutes we watched. The next time I received a bill for cable service, I cut back to the basic channels.
I didn’t have a chance to watch cable TV or even say “turn it off” on Saturdays. I was out of town. Six Fridays in a row, I stuffed clothes and toothbrush in a duffel bag, closed my eyes to weekend housework and visited my new granddaughter, accompanied my daughter to academic competitions and attended a church retreat.
My father, still in the hospital declared he was going to my sister’s as soon as he could. I had the cable TV disconnected. We had other things to do.
Friday as I left for the church retreat, I admonished my teenager, “I picked up and cleaned last night. I do not want to return to a cluttered, dirty house.”
Saturday, I dragged in at 9 p.m. The floors were vacuumed, beds made, dishes washed, even the mini-van was washed and vacuumed.
I thanks and praised my daughter effusively.
She sighed. “Mom, why can’t we have cable? It’s so boring without a TV. I cleaned everything, washed the car, practiced the piano, laid out in the sun and did my homework. There was nothing to do. Why can’t we have the cable connected?”
In the midst of her whine, my husband had entered the room. We looked at each other, covered our grins and did not reply. The answer was too obvious.