As I took it out of the box, I wondered if I had made a mistake. Another screen? What was I thinking?
Until now, my house only had one TV. That’s far below the American average of 33.5 per household. (Why do so many Americans have half a TV?)
No TVs in the bedrooms. No TVs in the bathroom. No TVs in the toaster oven. There was one in the living room, and that’s where all the fighting took place. Saturday mornings. When my daughter wants to watch cartoons and I want to watch soccer.
“Mom!” I would say, stomping off. “She’s hogging the TV again!”
I always lose, then trudge off to watch a game on the computer. It’s not the same.
So when we took some toys and a little kid kitchen playset out of the loft, I decided to put a TV up there. Screen No. 2. The fighter preventer.
Oh goody!
But as I pulled the new set out of the box — a TV that could miraculously connect to the Internet all by itself, and patch into the Hubble space telescope, and tell me the future, and synthetically create a PB&J sandwich at the touch of a button — I wondered if I had made the right decision.
Shouldn’t I be eliminating screens, not adding them? Because this wasn’t really the second screen in the house. There was also the computer, as well as the iPad. And the Kindle. Some days I bring the laptop home from work. Plus the cell phones. I’m certain there are screens I haven’t discovered yet. Some days my house looks like Mission Control. “Dad! Not now,” my daughter barks when I ask what she wants for dinner. “Can’t you see I’m docking a Russian supply shuttle at the International Space Station?”
Oh … sorry.
Americans on average spend 35 hours a week watching traditional TV. That’s before you add in the Internet, or those wonderful little cell devices we stare at while walking into telephone poles.
And now I’m adding another screen?!? More TV time!
Yet, the other night my daughter didn’t ask if she could go watch a show. She asked if I would go outside and play basketball with her. Two-square. Our own version. It comes with a very liberal application of the rules. A lot of cheating. You can’t keep score because you’re too busy laughing and trying not to take a ball to the nose. (Someone always takes a ball to the nose.)
I was tired. Long day at work. I wanted to sit down. To introduce myself to a beer and the television: “How you doin’?”
But I relented. Dragged myself out there. Away from the screens. And boy was it wonderful. One of those cool nights. A little silky breeze blowing through. Pink and purple sunset. Leafs on the grapefruit trees shimmered and twinkled. In 3-D. Like no TV can ever capture.
The new TV sat idle. Maybe the way it should be. Or at least until Saturday morning. Then … “How you doin’?”