We could manage without a television set

Television was a mystery in the early years of my life, a novelty that came slowly to our family’s community. Then one family bought a box that showed moving pictures, with voices, and that home became the gathering point on Saturday evenings for viewing of NHL games. The lady of the house resolutely accepted this weekly company and served sandwiches and beverages to the cheering or booing crowd. It wasn’t until I had reached high school that we obtained a television set of our own. There were rules: No TV until the homework is finished; turn the TV off when company arrives; no meals in front of the television, except Sunday evening while we watched a musical show, followed by a show about wagon trains. My furnished apartment after graduation did not have a television set and I wasn’t about to waste money buying one and life was fine without it. Upon marriage, the set Housemate brought into our home lasted several years until the picture tube died a loud death. That led to purchase of a modern television set in full colour, and one not needing rabbit ears because the house had an antenna.

Add this modern machine to the combination radio-record player and our home entertainment centre was complete — Johnny Horton’s music or Lorne Greene’s Bonanza. Neither device had remote controls so exercise was gained by getting up to change channels or to select another long-playing vinyl record.

The years went by and we upgraded our television and added cable channels to enhance our viewing pleasure, and suddenly we began spending more and more time sitting in front of a large box with a screen, and a remote control that Housemate seldom wanted to surrender. If we missed a favourite show at the regular time, we could sit up late and watch it on another channel. In summer we usually limited TV time to the news at any time of the day.

We heard about families unhooking themselves from television and surviving without emotional harm. Two sets of friends who discarded their TVs lauded that action and still knew about world affairs and could watch shows of their choice on their computers or smart phones.

Then without thought, with guests in the house, our TV wasn’t turned on for seven days. Instead we sat around the kitchen table eating and talking and laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

In the living-room, now cleared of debris, we did more visiting and catching up, never once thinking we should scramble downstairs to watch the bad guys get caught or to listen to political rhetoric from both sides of North America.

We had our newspaper to read and the radio to find out about community and provincial and world events, proving that we could survive without television as the focal point of our lives.

However, I didn’t venture the suggestion to eliminate the TV totally. Why? It will soon be curling season and it seems only television station owners actually know that curling is a sport that has hundreds of fans sitting there watching end-by-end play.

And in a co-operative spirit, if I’m allowed my curling, it is only fair that Housemate be permitted to watch his business and nature shows. I guess the TV stays but it will be turned off if guests arrive. The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author, and do not necessarily reflect the position of this publication.