The Stranger
| A few months before I was
born, my Dad met a stranger who was new to our small Tennessee town. From
the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer, &
soon invited him to live with our family. The stranger was quickly accepted,
& was around to welcome me into the World a few months later. As I grew up I never questioned his place in our family. In my young mind, each member had a special niche. My brother, Bill, five years my senior, was my example. Fran, my younger sister, gave me an opportunity to play "big brother" & to develop the art of teasing. My parents were complementary instructors--Mom taught me to love the Word of God & Dad taught me to obey it. But the stranger was our story-teller. He could weave the most fascinating tales. Adventures, mysteries & comedies were daily conversations. He would hold our whole family spellbound for hours each evening. If I wanted to know about politics, history, or science, he knew it all. He knew about the past, understood the present, & seemingly could predict the future. |
The pictures he could draw
were so lifelike that I would often laugh or cry as I watched. He was
like a friend to the whole family. He took Dad, Bill, & me to our
first major league baseball game. He was always encouraging us to see
movies & he even made arrangements to introduce us to several movie
stars. My brother & I were deeply impressed by John Wayne in particular. The stranger was an incessant talker. Dad didn't seem to mind, but sometimes Mom would quietly get up while the rest of us were enthralled with one of his stories of faraway places, go to her room, read her Bible, & pray. I wonder now if she ever prayed that the stranger would leave. You see, my Dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions. But somehow this stranger never felt obligated to honour them. Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our house--not from us, from our friends, or from adults. Our long-term visitor, however, used occasional four-letter words that burned my ears & made Dad squirm. To my knowledge the stranger was never confronted. My Dad was also a teetotaler who didn't permit alcohol in his home--not even for cooking. |
But the stranger felt like we needed exposure
& enlightened us to other ways of life. He offered us beer & other
alcoholic beverages often.He made cigarettes look tasty, cigars manly,
& pipes distinguished. He talked freely (probably much too freely),
about sex. His comments were sometimes blatant,sometimes suggestive &
generally embarrassing. I know now that my early concepts of the man-woman
relationship were influenced by the stranger. As I look back, I believe it was the grace of God that the stranger did not influence more. Time after time he opposed the values of my parents. Yet he was seldom rebuked & was never asked to leave. More than thirty years have passed since the stranger first moved in with the young family on Morningside Drive. He is not nearly so intriguing to my Dad as he was in those early years. But if you were to walk into my parent's den today, you would still see him sitting over in a corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk & watch him draw his pictures. His name? We've always just called him TV.--Keith Currie |