A few years after I was born, my Dad met a stranger who was new to
our small Plymouth 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
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
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.
*Note: This should be required reading for every household in
He has a wife now ... We call her 'Computer.'
