50s TV

Back then, television programs were only broadcast for brief periods of time in the afternoon and evening. We were anxious to catch the first evening show. But, Dad insisted that we first sit down to supper. Our eyes met Mom's, and she regretfully acknowledged our disappointment, as we were ushered to the kitchen table. Obediently, silently, and as quickly as good manners would permit, we ate our meal. As soon as Dad was out of sight and safely seated in the living room, we hurriedly cleared the table, and Mom stacked the dishes in the sink. She whispered that we would do them later. Good ol' Mom! The three of us joined Dad in the living room, and we begged him to turn on the set.

After what seemed an eternity, the set was on, and we waited ... and we waited. Dad explained that the television had to "warm up." I was ready to light a match to it's rear! As the screen revealed its snowy picture, Dad readjusted the "rabbit ears" sitting atop the set. At long last, we saw shadows evolve into human form ... real people! I don't remember who they were, but they walked and talked - and they were in our very own living room, on our very own television set!

Boy, wait until I told the kids at school . . .

I remember our very first television. It was a Westinghouse, and the year was 1951.

A product of the Great Depression, Dad was typically tight with a dollar. So, when I saw the delivery truck in front of our house that Wednesday (how could I forget the day?) and watched as the package was revealed, I released an unladylike squeal! Running to the kitchen, I grabbed my mother and pulled her toward the living room. "We're getting a television set!" I cried, as Mom bewilderedly stumbled under my grip, dish towel still in hand. Then, Dad mysteriously appeared, to open the front door for the bearer of our great and wonderful gift.

As my chubby younger brother joined us, there was a scramble to rearrange furniture, so that the television could be placed safely in the corner - where it was to remain forever, according to the delivery man. With my mother's penchant for moving furniture around, I wondered how long this directive would be followed. Right now, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that the set be turned on, so that the wonders of the world could enter our family living room via some mysterious air waves that I still do not fully comprehend.