The Stranger







This is very interesting and not the ending I had expected!!!!!!



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.' (Note: This should be required reading for every household in

America !)



He has a wife now....We call her 'Computer.'

Interesting. Thanks for sharing that with us.

Very
Very
Interesting

that is weird i just read the same thing today on a mail item i got