Tuesday, March 31, 2009


For years and years we have one television. It was a 13" black and white in an off black box. It had rotary dials and fine tuning plastic dials three in total and I bet it weighed something like sixty pounds.

There were rabbit ears it they got a great signal rarely and a decent signal frequently and there were times where the satellites would forsake our area and there would be the black and white static like Indians and Cowboys fighting it out in an eternal battle. Why wouldn't you fight if you didn't have any television to watch?

What I remember in particular about those days is if we'd turn the television on and off really quickly, there would be an explosion of light that would start after the power was off. It would get brighter and clearer than the picture ever was and it was a concentration of the finest neutron stars of the galaxy and they wouldn't show up on any of my friend's fancy televisions. But just on ours. And for the 4 seconds it would last, I'd stare into the thimble sized explosion and dream about a place far away in the future where I was important and famous and wouldn't sleep on Saturdays.

I'd think about how to prolong that radiance. How to make it brighter and bigger and to pull it out and to walk around holding my sunshine where everyone saw that I wasn't embarrased that we had the oldest heaviest picture tube in Athens, Alabama but that I had a gift that was better than Dallas.

As the dime sized flicker would fade away, I'd close my eyes and in my head that black and white would still be black and white but my brain would turn it to color and I'd be content always.