THE STRANGER...

 

                                                  
THE STRANGER 




When I was in about the 5th grade, my Dad 
met a stranger who was new to our small 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 me to see my 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 long time 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 
picture.






His name?....

We just call him 'TV. 



He has a wife now....we call her 
'Computer’.

Their first child is named "Cell Phone . "

Second 
child "I Pod .”

And MOST RECENTLY BORN WAS a Grandchild: 
“IPAD.”

The scary part is how fertile they are and the gestation period 
for the next
intrusions are getting shorter and shorter!!! And smarter 
,too!!!!!!