A  few years after I was born, my Dad met a  stranger who was new to our small town. From the  beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer and soon invited him to live with our family. The stranger was quickly  accepted and was around from then on.

• Submitted by Quest-News-Serv... on March 25, 2011 - 3:12pm.
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As  I grew up, I never questioned his place in my  family. In my young mind, he had a special  niche. My parents were complementary  instructors: Mum taught me good from evil, and  Dad taught me to obey. But the stranger... he  was our storyteller. He would keep us spellbound for hours on end with adventures, mysteries and  comedies. 
 
If  I wanted to know anything about politics, history or science, he always knew the answers  about the past, understood the present and even  seemed able to predict the future!  He took  my family to the first major league ball  game.  He made me laugh, and he made me  cry. The stranger never stopped talking, but Dad  didn't seem to mind. 

Sometimes, Mum  would get up quietly while the rest of us were  shushing each other to listen to what he had to  say, and she would go to the kitchen for peace  and quiet. 
 (I  wonder now if she ever prayed for the stranger  to leave.) 

Dad ruled our household with  certain moral convictions, but the stranger  never felt obligated to honor them.   Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our  home - not from us, our friends or any  visitors  Our long time visitor, however,  got away with four-letter words that burned my  ears and made my dad squirm and my mother  blush.  My Dad didn't permit the liberal  use of alcohol but the stranger encouraged us to  try it on a regular basis.  He made  cigarettes look cool, cigars manly, and pipes  distinguished. He talked freely (much too  freely!) about sex.  His comments were  sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and  generally embarrassing.

I now know that  my early concepts about relationships were  influenced strongly by the stranger. Time after  time, he opposed the values of my parents, yet  he was seldom rebuked... And NEVER asked to  leave. 

More than fifty years have passed  since the stranger moved in with our family. He  has blended right in and is not nearly as  fascinating as he was at first. Still, if you  could walk into my parents' den today, you would  still find him sitting over in his corner,  waiting for someone to listen to him talk and  watch him draw his pictures.  
    

His  name?....

We  just call him 'TV.' 

(Note:  This should be required reading for every  household!)  
He  has a wife now....we call her  'Computer.'  
Their  first child is "Cell Phone". 
Second  child "I Pod  "