Author: Deborah Guenther
Written: November 20th, 2011
Friday nights are quite predictable at our house: Make pizza, eat pizza, call Big Grandma, gather blankets and go into the coldest room in the house, squeeze onto a love sofa and hard wood rocking chair to watch the video that was picked out by the child who diligently dumped the kitchen compost all that week.
As a rule two movies were allowed. If the movie was a new one, it was watched a second time. If it was one already seen then a second movie was watched (also a re-run). My husband and I, having the ability to sit through only one movie used the time of the second to change the fish tank water or to sit and enjoy the quiet.
Yes, Fridays were established and visitors took part in our Friday night routine. To give it up was never considered.
But how did “Friday night “ start? That’s the interesting part…
Like most American children of the 60’s I grew up with the television (also called T.V. or the more common term of ‘Boob Tube’, much to my children’s embarrassment. But at one time ‘that’ term meant ‘idiot’). My fondest memories are of the old ‘black and white’ in its beautiful cabinet with the lamp that looked like two Siamese cats sitting on top. It was located in the kitchen where we watched it from the moment we got home from school. (It was in the kitchen so mom could see us kids sometimes.) We watched it through dinner and then while we did our homework and late into the night. (How I got the grades I did I will never understand, and have wondered what my grades could have been like had the thing been turned off.)
It was with that old black and white that I learned form Dad how to pull all the tubes when it wasn’t working, take them to the local grocery store, check them with the tube tester (located in most grocery stores) and then replace new ones back into the television.
But time waits for no one and soon the old ‘black an white’ was replace by a color T.V. Forget that it had no beautiful case – it was color. (Only in my adult years did I realize that the old ‘black and white’ was replaced not for something new and better. No, that wasn’t Dad’s way. Dad was the last person to move on to modern times. If Dad had it his way we’d still be changing out old tubes today. Rather the day had finally come when the tube tester was taken out of the grocery stores … there was no place to test them. But I was oblivious to such progress – we had a color T.V.)
Our new T.V. became as faithful a companion as the old one had and we affectionately dubbed it ‘The Boob Tube’ also. One day while Dad was away working a job he commuted to, the new colored television went out. I told mom what I had heard Dad say many times – ‘It blew a tube’. Little did I know that that one day truth was now only a cliche. Assuring Mom that having seen Dad fix it many times I knew how to take care of the problem.
Struggling the television way from the wall and unscrewing its many screws, I sat in disbelief…. Not a single tube was to be found. As a teenager I had ‘dated’ myself as archaic. Admitting inability to fix the electronic creature we awaited Dad’s return and subsequent visit to the T.V. store to purchase a new ‘Boob Tube’.
As the years passed, a television was not included among my furnishings for the sole reason that I was a ‘cheep scape”. I preferred to save money rather than waste it on passing pleasures. The man I married lived without one also (more for lack of funds rather than for saving of funds.)
The years that followed were preoccupied with a blissful marriage and bouncy little bundles so that no thought was given to obtaining a one eyed companion. But family members saw this lifestyle of ours to be ‘unusual’ at best and ’abusive’ at the worst. So we gave thoughtful consideration to obtaining such a form of entertainment for our own. But gone was ‘Leave it to Beaver’, ‘The Wonderful World of Disney’ and ‘Mutual of Omaha’. What I saw instead embarrassed me. I concluded that, as happens, my old friend ‘the Boob Tube’ and I had gone our separate ways.
I learned how to be polite as I told others of my decision not to get a television. But others were in shock at the announcement. “But … it’s never been done…” I was told. I later wondered if I was right in turning down the free televisions that we were offered. After all, I could have resold them and made some money at it.
Then the phone call came that would alter our Fridays forever. My mother-in-law was buying a new television and VCR. Do we want her old one? My husband not knowing a polite way to say no right off, asked for a day to think about it and he would call her tomorrow. It sounded good at the time. She lived three hours away and wasn’t due to visit for months. One nights delay in the negative response couldn’t hurt. Confident in the decision that a television was something we could best live without we retired for the night.
The day that followed began normal enough. Even the knock on the door wasn’t unusual (living 25 miles out of town most visitors were people asking directions). But we all stood and stared when seeing Grandma’s smiling face. And was she ever excited. She wouldn’t even come in, she was so excited. She couldn’t wait to tell us …
“I had planned on giving you my old television.
“Oh yes, mom. I was just going to call you to tell you that …”
“Well, I just couldn’t do it.”
“That’s O.K. Mom …”
“It was so old and didn’t have good color so I bought you a new one and a new VCR too. Come out and bring it in .” The children stared at each other in unbelieving, silent ecstasy.
There is a certain silence that husbands and wives can experience that has only one meaning – the quiet before the storm. As my husband brought in and set up the new equipment and the children expressed an excitement they had never known before, I remained silent. (A sister-in-law later told me that Grandma’s interpretation of my silence was: “She was quiet the whole time, but I could tell she was secretly happy”. The sister-in-law did not divulge the truth.)
After the television was all set up, my husband came to stand by me. I whispered (or rather hissed), “She’s your mother, do something about this”. He casually replied for everyone to hear.
“Well, we can’t have a new VCR without using it. Let’s go get a video, mom.”
So he and Grandma made the 25 minute drive into town to get one video. (Trips into town were usually conducted after a sufficient list had be accumulated to warrant the gas used.)
I don’t recall what that history making video was called, (although I believe my husband still remembers). I spent the whole time trying to figure out a polite way to send it home with her. But Grandma left and the VCR stayed.
“Let’s try controlling it” my husband offered more to avoid offending Grandma than any desire to keep ‘the thing’.
“O.K., we’ll use it once a month”, I offered.
“How about once a week” came the counter offer accompanied by great cheers that only children can produce. And negotiations had begun.
“It’s not staying in the living room.”
“How about our bedroom?”
“Put it in the closet and set it up whenever you want to use it.”
“I don’t want to set it up each week.”
“Downstairs then, in the coldest, most miserable room we have. I don’t want it to be a daily temptation.”
So, a place was cleared in our storage room and Friday nights as we now know them began.
Within a year the storage room was dusted and cleaned and converted into a library, video, supply room. But it was still cold and small so that we have to do the ‘family huddle’ while watching … the Boob Tube.
I had to admit as the years went by that this machine, though never elevating to the level of a friend (as in my youth) became an important part of the kids maturing. No longer did they run to the television in friend’s homes. No longer did they complain about taking out the compost when it was their turn (they could skip their turn taking out the compost and skip their turn choosing a video it they wanted to – though I don’t think they ever wanted to.) And they learned that some things were acceptable and some things weren’t … and not all videos were acceptable to be rented. It never has been set up as a television but is used only as a VCR.
… and nobody pesters us about abusing our kids anymore.