The Stranger-from February 4, 2009
The following story was sent to me by email. The timing of this was so interesting. It was right after we had an AT&T salesperson come to the door doing an advance sale of the fiberoptic system that will be started up. This covers DSL which we have and TV reception which we do not have.
At first I was going to get just the DSL which would be 5 to 7 time faster than what we have for $5 more a month. Then I listened to the deal with TV and it sounded very good. I signed up for both and was supposed to get a call and email within 24 hours. Days later, I got a call from Jennie, the salesperson. She said that every house in our neighborhood except our house had this available.
My immediate reaction was disappointment until I thought it over. Even as I was signing up for the service, I was having qualms of doubt. “Is this a good thing for us?”
Interestingly, I got this email below a day later.
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”
