I remember our first television in 1954. I was 6 years old. My older brother, who was in the Army, bought it for us. The gift that keeps on giving. He thought we needed a television for entertainment and to keep abreast of world events. Everyone else had a television, so why not us?
It was a RCA black-and-white television, because color television hadn’t been invented yet. It had rabbit ears that we could adjust for pulling in the three stations were within our range. In Prairie City, this was WHO, Channel 13; KRNT, Channel 8; and WOI, Channel 5. The Big Three. My sister and I were only allowed to watch television after our chores were done. We might not know our spelling words for the next day, but we knew every program on the three channels, and what times they were on: “Gun Smoke,” “Wagon Train, Walt Disney,” etc. The TV Listing, which we received in the Sunday Des Moines Register, was kept in its place of honor on top of the television. It was not to be used in the cat litter box until the following week. Television was sacrosanct, inviolable, not to be abused — worshiped, if you will. And we did.
Because its vacuum tubes consumed kilowatts of electricity, we were told, the television was not to be left on when not being watched. But don’t shut it off before it had warmed up. And its channel changer was not to be turned too rapidly for fear of wearing it out. These were the rules, like The Commandments, and my sister and I obeyed them. To not obey them might lead to television privileges being suspended, a fate worse than grounding.
I carried this television testament into adulthood. So much so, that I soon came to believe that television was evil, a corrupting voice in a home where there were better things to do, like read, write letters, and talk to each other — almost anything other than being brain washed by corporate advertisers. As a young, single adult, I did not have a television and would not allow one in my home. This caused multiple problems with ladies I invited into my life. I was straightened out real quick.
Later, in my 30s, I still had the TV jeebies. I remember being in someone’s home early in the morning before breakfast. The television was on and not being watched. Just on. It was the morning news, subconsciously influencing one’s day — crime, corruption, buy this, buy that. I remember feeling the television being on in the morning was wrong. It was a sin.
Today, Ginnie and I have our routines, our rituals. I get up real early to read and write, while Ginnie sleeps. I like the peace and quiet, the caffeine buzz, the God time. Around 4 or 4:30, I get Ginnie up so she can get ready for work. I fix breakfast, let Buddy out and, yes, turn on the television. Morning Joe. Ginnie and I are both political animals and get worked up over, and have strong opinions about, all the political brouhaha. Fortunately, we agree. Invariably, Ginnie starts talking back to the television. So do I. These commentators and so-called “experts” interrupt each other, talk over each other, and generally act rude. It’s all staged, and very annoying. One person pitted against another. “Opposing viewpoints,” they call it. I tell Ginnie it’s doing her a favor by getting her worked up. It keeps her awake for her morning commute.
After she leaves, I shut the television off. Ahhh. Peace and quiet. It’s like the air pressure being let out of the room. A calm sets in that is quite relaxing. I can hear the clock ticking.
My morning meditation tells me to, “Be calm. Be true. Be quiet.”
Please, God. No interactive TV.
• Contact Curt Swarm at 319-217-0526
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