HELP! I Don’t Know How To Watch TV Anymore.
I don’t want to think. I just want to be entertained.
Growing up, I was always one of those kids who did their homework with books on their lap in front of the TV.
Our day always started with WBZ playing on the radio while eating breakfast. We listened to the news of The Red Light District, bussing in the inner city, and prison uprisings at Walpole Correctional Facility balanced with the weather report, traffic from the BZ copter, and the night’s sports scores.
Mom and Dad owned and operated a sign painting business out of our house, but the TV got turned on sometime during the day.
Mom watched Days of Our Lives fairly religiously before and after painting signs and trucks in our garage. And being someone plagued by a bad back, getting off her feet after a few hours of hand drawing layouts at a vertical sketch board was necessary to ease the pain.
Daddy was a closet watcher who denied knowing what was going on, but he often at his dinner while mom’s shows played on the black and white set. Then, he would go to work as a night janitor at Acton Boxborough High School. (Unfortunately, the sign business never seemed to make enough money and only served as a source of arguments.)
