by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator
I spent the weekend before Thanksgiving at my son's home in the Kansas suburbs of Kansas City - and I'm glad that I chose to go then instead of waiting a week because now that whole area is buried under a thick comforter of snow.
While in the Kansas City area I accomplished two things of note. On Sunday evening we took my granddaughter, Olive, who is seven, to see "A Christmas Carol," the stage play based in the classic novel by Charles Dickens, at the KC Rep. It was the third year in a row that we have enjoyed this new family tradition, and a grand time was had by all. Before the play started Olive entertained us by expounding on what she remembered from her two previous viewings of "A Christmas Carol," and to my delight, the story that is sticking with her.
The other big adventure in Kansas City was a trip to Costco, something that I try to accomplish each time that I am in the area. The evil Walton Walmart family seems to have found a way to freeze Costco out of outstate Missouri and northwest Arkansas, so my only option to shop at the best box store in America (one where they pay their employees a minimum wage of $15.00 an hour and treat them like human beings) is to drive nearly three hundred miles to shop at Costco - and it's well worth the long drive - I pass dozens of Walmarts along the way!
Normally on these Costco runs I just buy non-perishable foodstuffs, paper products, and cleaning supplies and personal hygiene items, but even with just those frugalities the bottom line sometimes brings on heart palpitations. So it was with some trepidation that I added a "luxury" item to this most recent visit.
I wanted - and proceeded to buy - a new television. There was nothing wrong with my old one, a 31-inch flatscreen that I purchased at a Marine Corps Base Exchange on Okinawa seven or eight years ago - but I wanted bigger and better, nonetheless. I wound up selecting a 55-inch model whose brand name I had never heard of. My timing was excellent because I knew that my 19-year-old grandson would be visiting over Thanksgiving - and who better to install a complicated piece of electronic equipment than a teenager!
Boone got the new television up and running, and I am enjoying my enormous window on the world. The screen is so big that people driving down the road out in front of my house can enjoy the programming as they drive past - and the television itself, while large, is lightweight enough that a house burglar in a wheelchair could probably make off with it - and thus save Pa Rock from getting sued by an injured hillbilly criminal.
It is a "smart" television with all of the streaming stuff built-in. That's important for people like me who are too cheap to support the corrupt cable and satellite companies that own the Federal Communications Commission. (Ajit Pai, I'm looking at you!)
And, perhaps the best part of this purchase was that it cost less than four hundred dollars - and that was nearly a full week ahead of "Black Friday!" Pa Rock is one savvy shopper!
A brief personal history of television: My father owned an appliance store in a small town in Missouri where he sold televisions and installed antennas until Sam Walton decided to destroy America's Main Streets. I spent many evenings after school and weekends - even Sundays - helping to deliver television sets, some of which were very large pieces of furniture - and climbing around on roofs putting up antennas. Our family had the first color television set in town, and my dad would open his store on Sunday evenings so that people could come in and watch The Wonderful World of Disney and Bonanza! - both of which were televised in color.
Back in those days television sets were not thrown away when they quit working properly - they were repaired. A television repairman by the name of Kenneth Headlee had his shop in the back of Dad's store - and together they kept the little town of Noel, Missouri, connected to the outside world.
Televisions were becoming more expendable as my dad got older, and television repairmen went the way of the dodo. But a used television always represented something of value to Dad, so he refused to discard those that quit. For several years he maintained a pyramid of televisions in his living room. The oldest one was a large wooden console which sat at the bottom of the pile. Atop it was a large portable. When that one stopped working, he bought a smaller portable and placed it at the pinnacle. Someday, he reasoned, a new repairman would come to town - and then he would be a big shot with three working televisions!
So that is where I hail from.
My new television is very large, but it is so thin that nothing could possibly be stacked on top of it.
To celebrate my entry into the world of really big-screen television, today's poetry selection is "Television" by the immortal Roald Dahl. In it Mr. Dahl laments the ascendancy of television into family life, and encourages parents to throw the devices out of their homes and replace them with books for their children to read. I agree with his sentiments completely - and I do read - a lot - but I have no children in my home and am old enough to allow myself some mindless television-viewing without feeling too guilty.
Of course, Roald Dahl and his poem "Television" are out-of-date because today our children and grandchildren are focused on screens which are far more sinister than the ones who first let Howdy Doody and Lucy Ricardo into our homes.
But, timely or not, here is Roald Dahl's take on television:
Television
by Roald Dahl
The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.
Poetry Appreciator
I spent the weekend before Thanksgiving at my son's home in the Kansas suburbs of Kansas City - and I'm glad that I chose to go then instead of waiting a week because now that whole area is buried under a thick comforter of snow.
While in the Kansas City area I accomplished two things of note. On Sunday evening we took my granddaughter, Olive, who is seven, to see "A Christmas Carol," the stage play based in the classic novel by Charles Dickens, at the KC Rep. It was the third year in a row that we have enjoyed this new family tradition, and a grand time was had by all. Before the play started Olive entertained us by expounding on what she remembered from her two previous viewings of "A Christmas Carol," and to my delight, the story that is sticking with her.
The other big adventure in Kansas City was a trip to Costco, something that I try to accomplish each time that I am in the area. The evil Walton Walmart family seems to have found a way to freeze Costco out of outstate Missouri and northwest Arkansas, so my only option to shop at the best box store in America (one where they pay their employees a minimum wage of $15.00 an hour and treat them like human beings) is to drive nearly three hundred miles to shop at Costco - and it's well worth the long drive - I pass dozens of Walmarts along the way!
Normally on these Costco runs I just buy non-perishable foodstuffs, paper products, and cleaning supplies and personal hygiene items, but even with just those frugalities the bottom line sometimes brings on heart palpitations. So it was with some trepidation that I added a "luxury" item to this most recent visit.
I wanted - and proceeded to buy - a new television. There was nothing wrong with my old one, a 31-inch flatscreen that I purchased at a Marine Corps Base Exchange on Okinawa seven or eight years ago - but I wanted bigger and better, nonetheless. I wound up selecting a 55-inch model whose brand name I had never heard of. My timing was excellent because I knew that my 19-year-old grandson would be visiting over Thanksgiving - and who better to install a complicated piece of electronic equipment than a teenager!
Boone got the new television up and running, and I am enjoying my enormous window on the world. The screen is so big that people driving down the road out in front of my house can enjoy the programming as they drive past - and the television itself, while large, is lightweight enough that a house burglar in a wheelchair could probably make off with it - and thus save Pa Rock from getting sued by an injured hillbilly criminal.
It is a "smart" television with all of the streaming stuff built-in. That's important for people like me who are too cheap to support the corrupt cable and satellite companies that own the Federal Communications Commission. (Ajit Pai, I'm looking at you!)
And, perhaps the best part of this purchase was that it cost less than four hundred dollars - and that was nearly a full week ahead of "Black Friday!" Pa Rock is one savvy shopper!
A brief personal history of television: My father owned an appliance store in a small town in Missouri where he sold televisions and installed antennas until Sam Walton decided to destroy America's Main Streets. I spent many evenings after school and weekends - even Sundays - helping to deliver television sets, some of which were very large pieces of furniture - and climbing around on roofs putting up antennas. Our family had the first color television set in town, and my dad would open his store on Sunday evenings so that people could come in and watch The Wonderful World of Disney and Bonanza! - both of which were televised in color.
Back in those days television sets were not thrown away when they quit working properly - they were repaired. A television repairman by the name of Kenneth Headlee had his shop in the back of Dad's store - and together they kept the little town of Noel, Missouri, connected to the outside world.
Televisions were becoming more expendable as my dad got older, and television repairmen went the way of the dodo. But a used television always represented something of value to Dad, so he refused to discard those that quit. For several years he maintained a pyramid of televisions in his living room. The oldest one was a large wooden console which sat at the bottom of the pile. Atop it was a large portable. When that one stopped working, he bought a smaller portable and placed it at the pinnacle. Someday, he reasoned, a new repairman would come to town - and then he would be a big shot with three working televisions!
So that is where I hail from.
My new television is very large, but it is so thin that nothing could possibly be stacked on top of it.
To celebrate my entry into the world of really big-screen television, today's poetry selection is "Television" by the immortal Roald Dahl. In it Mr. Dahl laments the ascendancy of television into family life, and encourages parents to throw the devices out of their homes and replace them with books for their children to read. I agree with his sentiments completely - and I do read - a lot - but I have no children in my home and am old enough to allow myself some mindless television-viewing without feeling too guilty.
Of course, Roald Dahl and his poem "Television" are out-of-date because today our children and grandchildren are focused on screens which are far more sinister than the ones who first let Howdy Doody and Lucy Ricardo into our homes.
But, timely or not, here is Roald Dahl's take on television:
Television
by Roald Dahl
The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.
1 comment:
The last television repair shop I can recall sat at the southwest corner of Westport Road and Fairmount Avenue in Kansas City, Missouri. When the F.C.C. gave the green light to digital transmission the old analog sets rapidly fell out of favor. That shop too was full of discarded sets large and small that were built for a passed era. Today the building smartly houses a business called the "Frame Gallery." The adjacent building, connected by a party wall, used to be a laundry/laundromat. Much of it too houses a gallery and framing business.
Apparently this poem was written as part of a book Dahl wrote called "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" which we all know went on to oompa loompa fame.
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