‘What happens if you grow up with no television’
Well, I suppose “no” television is somewhat of an exaggeration. I believe The Dude and his sibs (he is the fourth out of six) were allowed a soupcon of TV. Like, if there was some educational show on about, say, snakes. (Yes, that family had a reptilian bent. Read about it if you dare, in “The Year of the Snake.”)
We Henrys considered Sea Hunt or The Wonderful World of Disney educational shows. After all, you got some geography, right? And then there was The Three Stooges. Highly educational. Curly, Moe and Larry taught my brothers all kinds of fun tricks. Nyuck nyuck nyuck. Interesting that The Dude’s parents thought TV was harmful, but thought nothing of throwing their multiple children into a car without seat belts. Ooops. That’s not fair; my parents did that too.
We spent many a happy hour stretched out on the carpet in front of a room-dominating television set, bowls of ice cream balanced on our tummies or a washtub of Younger-Brother-Doug-popped corn placed strategically so all hands could reach it. Along with the corn and the ‘scream, we lapped up Bonanza and Hullaballoo and Batman. I Spy and Mission Impossible. Get Smart was a fave, with jokes that often zoomed right over our heads. (See: “Agent 86”)
And I remember Mom and Dad joining us for the sophisticated cartoon fare in Rocky and Bullwinkle. (A rare mineral called “Upsidasium”, an island called No Bikini Atoll. And the wonderful, pre-Spy Magazine Short-Fingered-Vulgarian-like zing of the Kirward Derby.) You can read more about Rocky and his Friends in “Eeny Meanie Chili Beanie, the Spirits are about to Speak.”
Which brings me to the title of this story. A few years ago I was waxing nostalgic about the Cleaver Family with one of my brothers, wondering whatever happened to Wally and the Beave and the marvelously smarmy Eddie Haskell. (“You are looking particularly lovely today, Mrs. Cleaver.”)
Anyway, true story: The Dude heard me talking about “Leave it to Beaver” and, shocked, exclaimed, “Your parents let you guys watch a porn movie?!?”
As years passed, and TVs got cheaper, we had them all over the house. There was the Big TV in the living room, but also a TV in the kitchen, one on a timer in my parents’ bedroom, even one on the porch. And all these TVs were always turned on. I was a “grownup” by then, who lived elsewhere and had somewhat of a bossy-pants personality, so I would go from room to room turning them off — only to have my Dad follow me around turning them back on. Even if he fell asleep on the couch with the TV tuned to golf, if you turned said TV off, he would jolt awake with, “Hey! I was watching that!”
I guess going around turning off all those TVs affected me in a funny way because, as a grownup in my own place, I didn’t own even one. I remember going over to a friend’s at the crack of dawn to watch the Royal Wedding in 1981. Even after Dude Man and I got one for a wedding present we didn’t watch TV much. The Dude’s disdain was such that he famously replied, “Where the TV is” when I asked where on earth we would fit a baby in our not-very-large marital home.
And then, even when we got a bigger apartment and a newer, bigger TV to go with it, I didn’t know how to make it “go”. My baseball-loving Mom was in residence once while The Dude and I were away for some medical meeting, and she asked The Child (who was, oh, ten or so at the time) how to turn on the TV so she could watch the World Series. She didn’t know. And neither did I, when Mom called me to find out.
All this TV aversion is probably a good thing, since His Dudeness and I will soon be downsizing into an apartment so small I call it The Ken and Barbie House.
All I can say is thank goodness for streaming.
New York City. November 2019