Linus had to endure TV2 tonight. TV2, upstairs in my and Jane’s bedroom, is a non-cable-connected dinosaur from the antenna era.  Jane and I bought TV2, originally TV1, at Best Buy on one of our first dates.  It was at that time Jane learned of my allegiance to video games.  She told me it was a personality flaw.  I said, “Oh, I’ll show you a personality flaw.”, which turned out to be prophetic.

Linus waited patiently while I adjusted the rabbit ears, expecting the picture to clear up any moment. When I cavalierly announced that the white-out quality reception was as good as he was going to get, he looked at me like I was insane. It wasn’t until I shrugged and kept walking out that he had a complete meltdown.

Well, he’d get no sympathy from me, and I told him that. “In my day,” I said, “we would have been happy to have this kind of reception. Look, you can even see the colors on the screen and everything.” This did not console him in the least. He said he couldn’t tell Arthur from DW, and I told him to concentrate on how their different voices can distinguish one staticy blob from another.

“What!?” he screamed.  How could this be?  What’s the point of TV if you can’t see it?  Why have a TV not connected to cable?  Why was Lily, and not him, spending quality time with TV1?   I could see all of these questions running through his mind, but he was to get no satisfaction from me, and I left him fuming at the bizarrely diffused color shapes appearing on TV2.

I watched many a snowy TV in my day, having grown up first without cable, and then with cable, but only to TV1. Some of my greatest memories of watching TV involve the black-and-white haze of TV2. The Miracle on Ice in 1980? TV2. Never saw the puck one time, but I still watched it all the way through. The Dolphins beating the Bears in ’85 on Monday Night Football in a near white-out snowstorm in Miami to ruin an otherwise perfect season? TV2.

So don’t cry to me, son, about your lack of clarity in figuring out if you’ve seen today’s Postcards From Buster. Been there. Done that.

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3 Responses to Snow

  1. kelly says:

    You should publish this in a book of short stories of being a father, the family life, or the maybe even ‘stories of growing old’. It was awesome.

  2. Collins says:

    Yeah, I remember the days when my dad’s remote control was, “Steve, go change the channel.”

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