This was a forward I received today. Thought I would share it.......

The Stranger

A few years after I was born, my Dad met a stranger who was new to 
our small Texas 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.

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: Mom 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, Mom 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 longtime 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.'