From: MiLadyHaHa 
 
                      "The Stranger"
                
   "A few months before I was born, my dad met a stranger who 
was new to our small Tennessee 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 to welcome me 
into the world a few months later.  As I grew up I never  questioned
his place in our family. In my young mind, each member had a special
niche. 

   My brother, Bill, five years my senior, was my example. Fran, 
my younger sister, gave me an opportunity to play 'big brother' 
and develop the art of teasing.  My parents were complementary 
instructors - Mom taught me to love the Word of God, and Dad taught
me to obey it.

     But, the stranger was our storyteller. He could weave the most
fascinating tales. Adventures, mysteries and comedies were daily
conversations. He could hold our whole family spell-bound for hours 
each evening.  If I wanted to know about politics, history, or
science, he knew it all. He knew about the past, understood the
present, and seemingly could predict the future. The pictures he 
could draw were so lifelike that I would often laugh or cry.

     He was like a friend to the whole family. He took Dad, Bill 
and me to our first major league baseball game. He was always
encouraging us to see the movies and he even made arrangements 
to introduce us to several movie stars.  My brother and I were 
deeply impressed by John Wayne in particular.

   The stranger was an incessant talker. Dad didn't seem to mind -
but sometimes Mom would quietly get up - while the rest of us were
enthralled with one of his stories of faraway places - go to her 
room, read her Bible and pray.  I wonder now if she ever prayed 
that the stranger would leave.

   You see, my dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions.
But, this stranger never felt obligation to honor them. Profanity, 
for example, was not allowed in our house - not from us, from our 
friends, or adults. Our longtime visitor, however, used occasional 
four-letter words that burned my ears and made Dad squirm. To my
knowledge the stranger was never confronted. 

   My dad was a teetotaler who didn't permit alcohol in his home - 
not even for cooking. But the stranger felt like we  needed exposure 
and enlightened us to other ways of life. He offered us beer and other
alcoholic beverages often.  

   He made cigarettes look tasty, cigars manly, and pipes 
distinguished.

   He talked freely (probably too much too freely) about sex.  His
comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally
embarrassing. I know now that my early concepts of the
man-woman relationship were influenced by the stranger.

   As I look back, I believe it was the grace of God that the stranger
did not influence us more. Time after time he opposed the values of my
parents. Yet he was seldom rebuked and never asked to leave.

     More than thirty years have passed since the stranger moved in 
with the young family on Morningside Drive.  He is not  nearly so
intriguing to my Dad as he was in those early years. 

But, if you were to walk into my parents' den today, you would 
still see him sitting over in a corner,  waiting for someone to 
listen to him talk and look at his pictures.
     
    His name? 

    We always just called him T.V.

    Source: geocities.com/heartland/oaks/5346/Literature

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