Well, when I was a kid

(to be said in an old, crackly voice) T.V. was a whole different ball game. We started out with a channel or two but then cable introduced itself, doubling the choice of shows in our household. We had MTV for a split second until my parent's discovered it, it was mysteriously gone the next day. Not to worry, we got our fill with Friday Night Videos.

We folded our newspapers in front of Tom and Jerry, enjoyed Little House on the Prairie just before dinner time and even sat down to a worthwhile show or two as a family from time to time. We were religious in our annual viewing of the Ten Commandments, awed by it's captivating special effects.

Rules were implemented to keep our minds clean. No Three's Company (living in sin) and no Solid Gold (the dancers were dressed much too provocatively). The Love Boat was a guilty

pleasure and Fantasy Island a complete treat if we could finagle staying up that late on a Saturday night. The Carol Burnett Show, The Wonder Years, Night Rider . . .

Christmastime was an extra special treat. Our parents would check the newspaper to see when Rudolph, Frosty the Snowman and all the other "must sees" of the season were on. We would sit shoulder to shoulder on the couch stringing popcorn, toasty in the heat from the wood burning stove located two feet from us. And then there was that fateful year, the year our T.V. gave up the ghost.

The horror of it all! There was weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth until one day a mysterious box showed up in the T.V. room. It was tall, almost touching the ceiling, and wide enough for three or more of us to stand inside. I'm not sure, but it may have housed a new appliance at one point. I was a kid, it was my job not to notice new appliances and the such.

So we adopted the box and made it our new holiday home. We cut out a door that you could walk through without stooping, drew a doorbell, colored pictures on the walls, hung homemade curtains in the the windows. It was brilliant, and beautiful, and quiet and warm. I would lie in bed thinking about it at night and rush down to it first thing each morning. It was a school house, a grocery store, a hospital, a home.

Today our big screen sits alone in the basement, not unlike the disfigured guy on Goonies. The kids visit it once in awhile to watch PBS kids or The Cosby Show or Family Tie's DVD's. They have never had cable. (gasp)

I'm glad that T.V. knows it's place in our home. It's a visitor, not a family member. Our children find time to read, jump on the trampoline, swing over the creek.

I want them to create their own cardboard box memories . . .

without Hollywood's help.

P.S. I have to say that Disney Movies and I have been very close through some transitional times. Disney babysat my children during my pregnancies and Disney and Allie were inseparable the first three years of her life while our family adjusted to the world of autism. Rest assured, we have our vices. Boy do we have our vices.