No More TV
The TV is unplugged, dusted off, and waiting for its final resting place. It is lying in state on the living room floor, between two speakers, almost like some kind of pagan altar or old world wake.
While I slept, Aaron packed it all away, all of the attachments, cords, plugs, boxs (vcr and dvd players), and the big shelf on which they all used to live. We had a whole shelf of boxes that we sat in front of, staring into fake worlds or depressing news, and at first, I mourned the loss of these boxes, especially the big one. The faces and voices coming into the house used to seem so harmless and even friendly, but now that it has been quiet and just the two of us in the living room, I’ve realized that those people are not my friends and that those lives and voices get in the way of my life and my voice.
Years ago now, before 9-11 when the television stayed on for days, I was without TV, and I was fine with it then. The box sat in the corner, and it was silent except for the occasional vhs. That was also back when I was a vegetarian and more concerned about what went into my body, including crappy television.
Okay, the truth is that I couldn’t afford cable (they shut it off when I told them I couldn’t pay the bill), and the reception was so bad without the cable that I just stopped trying to see through the snow and left it turned off.
The only time I was made to see that my tv-less state was not the norm was when my students refered to a particular show, and when I looked confused, they would say, "You know, on Fox, the ____ show." Then, I dropped the bomb, " I don’t watch tv." Their jaws hit their desks, which woke up some of the sleepers, who even stopped drooling long enough to ask what had happened. They were shocked, too, thinking they were still in a bad dream. Who doesn’t watch tv? They bombarded me with questions: How do I find out about the news? What if something big happened? How could I live without Survivor? I reminded them of the internet and radio as news sources, and I explained that surviving on my teaching salary was entertaining enough. Through the rest of the semester, they kept me informed about news events and who was still on the island.
There’s no longer that large, noisy buffer between us, and Aaron and I are doing more looking into each other’s eyes and talking to each other without the faces and voices interupting us. Luckily, neither of us has attempted to use the remote control on the other, and I think we’ll be okay.
