Cople of months before I was born,my father met a stranger,which was in our small town new.
From the beginning my dad was inspired by this glamorous incomer and he invited him soon,to live in our family.
A stranger was quickly admited a was there, to bid welcome me on world a few months later.
When I was growing upe, I never asked him on his place in our family. In my youngly age, everyone had a special place.
My brother,John,5 years older than me, was my example. Fran,my younger sister gave me opportunity to play
"an older brother" and educe the art of tease. My parents were completive instructors- My mother teached me to love
truly word and my father abide by it.
But Stranger was our narrator. He thought up complications of most glamorous stories.Adventure,mystery and comedie
were the daily conversations. Every night he prove to keep up our hole family an hours in strain.
When I wanted to know something about policy,history or science, he knew everything. He knew about past, about present
and how it seems he could even foretell the future. The pictures he drew were so lively, that I often laughed or reduced to tears,
when I looked on them.
He was a friend of all our family. He took dad,John and me on our first baseball match. He always cheered us,to watch some movies
and he even lecture for a meeting to a movie stars. On my brother and me did a big impression John Wayne.
A stranger was continous gasbag. Dad didn´t lool like he is embarrassed with it,but sometimes mum quietly got up- when we
were holded in strain of his stories,she went to her bedroom,read her Bible a prayed. Now I say to myself if she didn´t pray to
the stranger to leave.
How you see, my dad directed our household with certain conviction. But this stranger never felt obligation to respect them.
Curses,for examle,in our house wasn´t allowed- we can´t do it,our friends or adults. Our visitor for a long time,though,sometimes used
a fiveplaced words, which burned my ears and hustle my mum to crinkle. According to what I know, the stranger was never lectured for it.
My father was an abstainer and he disallowed any alkoholic drinks in our house - even neither for cooking. But the stranger felt that we
need enlightenment and teached us about other form of life. He often offer for a beer and another alkoholic drinks.
He showed cigarettes like appetizing, a cigar like a male thing and a pipe like elegent. He openly (maybe too openly) talked about sex.
His commentaries were sometimes instructive and broadly imberrassing. Now I know, that my first conseption of relation man-woman
was induced by a stranger. Whem I look back , I believe that it was goodness of God,that our stranger didn´t induced more people.
He all the time dispute the rate of my parents. But he was rarely reproved and he was never asked to leave.
More than thirty years go past from the day, that the stranger moved into small family. He isn´t close to egregiousty ty my father,
like he was in the earlier years. But if I come today to the burrow of my parents, I´ll still see him siting in the corner, waiting on someone,
who will be listening to him talking and who will be watching him drawing his pictures.
His name? We always called him television.
From the beginning my dad was inspired by this glamorous incomer and he invited him soon,to live in our family.
A stranger was quickly admited a was there, to bid welcome me on world a few months later.
When I was growing upe, I never asked him on his place in our family. In my youngly age, everyone had a special place.
My brother,John,5 years older than me, was my example. Fran,my younger sister gave me opportunity to play
"an older brother" and educe the art of tease. My parents were completive instructors- My mother teached me to love
truly word and my father abide by it.
But Stranger was our narrator. He thought up complications of most glamorous stories.Adventure,mystery and comedie
were the daily conversations. Every night he prove to keep up our hole family an hours in strain.
When I wanted to know something about policy,history or science, he knew everything. He knew about past, about present
and how it seems he could even foretell the future. The pictures he drew were so lively, that I often laughed or reduced to tears,
when I looked on them.
He was a friend of all our family. He took dad,John and me on our first baseball match. He always cheered us,to watch some movies
and he even lecture for a meeting to a movie stars. On my brother and me did a big impression John Wayne.
A stranger was continous gasbag. Dad didn´t lool like he is embarrassed with it,but sometimes mum quietly got up- when we
were holded in strain of his stories,she went to her bedroom,read her Bible a prayed. Now I say to myself if she didn´t pray to
the stranger to leave.
How you see, my dad directed our household with certain conviction. But this stranger never felt obligation to respect them.
Curses,for examle,in our house wasn´t allowed- we can´t do it,our friends or adults. Our visitor for a long time,though,sometimes used
a fiveplaced words, which burned my ears and hustle my mum to crinkle. According to what I know, the stranger was never lectured for it.
My father was an abstainer and he disallowed any alkoholic drinks in our house - even neither for cooking. But the stranger felt that we
need enlightenment and teached us about other form of life. He often offer for a beer and another alkoholic drinks.
He showed cigarettes like appetizing, a cigar like a male thing and a pipe like elegent. He openly (maybe too openly) talked about sex.
His commentaries were sometimes instructive and broadly imberrassing. Now I know, that my first conseption of relation man-woman
was induced by a stranger. Whem I look back , I believe that it was goodness of God,that our stranger didn´t induced more people.
He all the time dispute the rate of my parents. But he was rarely reproved and he was never asked to leave.
More than thirty years go past from the day, that the stranger moved into small family. He isn´t close to egregiousty ty my father,
like he was in the earlier years. But if I come today to the burrow of my parents, I´ll still see him siting in the corner, waiting on someone,
who will be listening to him talking and who will be watching him drawing his pictures.
His name? We always called him television.
