The Stranger

Interloc

The Stranger

A few years after I was born, my dad met a stranger who was new to our small
Maryland 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. 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."

josephmartin

Excellent post....so interesting...keep posting such wonderful stories

adamsolomon

Now a days it is this that spoils the youngsters...Probably this is that happened with me ....

liqroof

I was thinking that you are writing some story its based on the reality but I can say that you have done a great effort. Afterall you have suspense in your post and which is the best thing for a writer to make the people suspensive.

red_cedar

Nice story,
I raised my daughters alone from the time they were 4 till around 18.
There wasnt much extra for us but we did have a TV. It wasnt until we got a VCR and rented movies that we started hearing some 4 letter words in the home and that wasnt until they were around 13 or so.

My point is parents have a choice as to what is allowed and what is not.

rhethapaul

wow....nice story buddy. and ya you are right but he won't be a stranger after all this time.