>The Stranger
>
>A few years after I was born, my Dad met a stranger who was new to
>our small Texas town. From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with
>this enchanting newcomer and soon invited him to live with our family.
>The stranger was quickly accepted and was around from then on.
>
>As I grew up, I never questioned his place in my family. In my young mind,
>he had a special niche. My parents were complementary instructors:
>
>
>
>
>Mom taught me good from evil, and Dad taught me to obey. But
>the stranger...he was our storyteller. He would keep us spellbound for
>hours on end with adventures, mysteries and comedies.
>
>If I wanted to know anything about politics, history or science, he always
>knew the answers about the past, understood the present and even seemed
>able to predict the future! He took my family to the first major league
>ball game. He made me laugh, and he made me cry. The stranger never stopped
>talking, but Dad didn't seem to mind.
>
>Sometimes, Mom would get up quietly while the rest of us were shushing each
>other to listen to what he had to say, and she would go to the kitchen for
>peace and quiet. (I wonder now if she ever prayed for the stranger to
>leave.)
>
>Dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions, but the
>stranger never felt obligated to honor them. Profanity, for example, was
>not allowed in our home... Not from us, our friends or any visitors.
>Our longtime visitor, however, got away with four-letter words that
>burned my ears and made my dad squirm and my mother blush.
>
>My Dad didn't permit the liberal use of alcohol. But the
>stranger encouraged us to try it on a regular basis. He made cigarettes
>look cool, cigars manly and pipes distinguished. He talked freely (much too
> freely!) about sex. His comments were sometimes blatant,
>sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing.
>
>I now know that my early concepts about relationships were
>influenced strongly by the stranger. Time after time, he opposed the values
>of my parents, yet he was seldom rebuked... And NEVER asked to leave.
>
>More than fifty years have passed since the stranger moved in with
>our family. He has blended right in and is
>not nearly as fascinating as he was at first. Still, if you could walk into
>my parents' den today, you
>would still find him sitting over in his corner, waiting for someone
>to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures. His name?....
>
>We just call him, "TV."
>

>
>He has a wife now....We call her "Computer."

Something to think about....be blessed....sis katie.