Television Enters Our Lives

By Elton Camp As was true of most country families in the early 1950s, at night, weather permitting, we sat in the yard and talked. The buzzing and biting of mosquitoes was an irritation, but in those days before air conditioning, the yard was far more pleasant than the warmth of the house. In the absence of security lights, we could actually see the stars and the band of the Milky Way. When I was in the seventh grade, television entered our lives. That changed everything for the worse. The set was a Motorola, black and white, seventeen-inch table model on tall wooden legs. We got only two channels: WBRC channel six and the other Birmingham station on channel thirteen. From the day that the television entered the house, our family life stopped. My father was entranced and watched it from the time it came on the air in the early mornings until it signed off at night about midnight with a playing of the national anthem. This slavish devotion to television, especially televised sports, continued throughout the rest of his life. The house had only five small rooms and in the absence of a hallway, they all connected. My father played the TV very loud, preventing me from getting restful sleep. The next morning he got up by 4:00 a.m. to start the day. The TV stations werent on that early so he turned on the radio. He made a specific point of waking me up as soon as he got up. Nothing required any of us to get up that early. It was what hed grown up with on the farm and he was determined to continue it. I told you to get up, he stormed. If I failed to immediately comply, there he stood with a glass of water in his hand. I knew what was coming. He poured it directly onto my face. This was after only a few hours of sleep. In fairness, I must add that he didnt by any means do that every day, but plenty often enough. My fathers discipline was harsh, but seldom swift. Whenever I displeased him sufficiently, he would, sometime within the next several hours, whip me either with a large switch or more often with his belt. I truly think he enjoyed making me dread for hours what I knew was coming. By the time he got around to it, Id sometimes forgotten what crime Id committed. To be candid, I probably needed punishment most of the time. What I resented was that he didnt have judgment enough to know when to stop. I truly think he took a perverse pleasure in making me suffer. Hed whip me on and on. I tried not to cry, but he kept it up until I did. He wouldnt stop even then. By todays standards, such treatment would be deemed child abuse and hed be subject to arrest.

His unreasonableness and cruelty served to intensify my feelings of revulsion toward him. However, I told him only one time that I hated him, when I was about ten years old. Really, I didnt entirely mean it. It was just one of those stupid things a child says. But if I could somehow relive that day, I wouldnt tell him that. Even after all these years, I still feel bad about the cruel words. As soon as I said it, I wished I hadnt. I was mad and struck out at him in the only way I knew how. I realized instantly that I had hurt him. I desperately wanted to apologize, but he made it impossible by his response. Words, once spoken, can never be recalled, he said yet another time with a voice of finality. It was one of his favorite sayings. Now that Id said it, the words couldnt be taken back so, in effect, I was condemned for all time. The sentence was out of my mouth and thus irrevocable. No apology could change anything. Ive often wondered about the source of that cruel and unforgiving philosophy. I doubt that he came up with it on his own. I heard it espoused many times during my childhood. This write is not intended as a blanket condemnation of television. When our daughter was born, I literally pulled the TV cable loose from the house and cancelled the service. We were close enough to a television tower that we could get news and weather with a blurry picture, but the experience was so unenjoyable that television played little part in our family life until my daughter was about ready to start school. We didnt intend for it to become a de facto babysitter for our child. I firmly believe that her exceptional language skills at an early age were, in large measure, due to this resolve. There is a critical period in a childs life for learning language and we used it to talk and read to her. Television was not to dominate our family as it had done in my parents home.

Typical 1950s scene. Note old fashioned set.