One morning something strange and wonderful appeared on the roof of a house at the end of the block.
A few days later, another one suddenly materialized. Then another. Every day they came closer to our house. Sunday afternoon drives were spent seeking out the new tv antennas sprouting up all over the neighborhood.
They came in all shapes and sizes. Some were small, with just a few spindly arms attached. Others had branches going in all different directions. Big and small, they marched relentlessly toward us.
On Saturday mornings, as soon as we were awake, my sister and I would run to the house with the newest antenna.
Every other kid on the block had the same idea. We’d knock on the door, innocently asking if Johnny or Candace or Billy could come out and play, hoping instead for an invitation to come inside and watch the brand new tv.
An antenna went up on the house next door, then on the house across the street. Our house was surrounded. We were certain that our own tv would be arriving any day now.
Oh, the shows we were missing! Danny Thomas, Jack Benny, Burns and Allen, Pinky Lee, Jackie Gleason, Howdy Doody–but worst of all–I couldn’t watch the one show I’d give up all the others to see–The Adventures of Superman!
But there was one person on Earth even mightier than the Man of Steel–my Dad, He had the final say in the matter, and no matter how much Linda and I pleaded, he would not relent.On this subject DadMan was an immovable object. There would be no television in our living room in the foreseeable future.
Not until there were at least two channels to watch.