In my last post I described growing up Amish. Ok, not actually Amish, but at about the same level of technology. Then in 1977 my mom uprooted me and we moved to an apartment in Toronto will all the mod cons. Toilets! Hot showers! Electric lights! Telephones!
But, still no TV. Yes, my mother stubbornly clung to the last Luddite principle under her control, and denied me a much-coveted pop culture infusion. Thankfully, my father did have a TV, and shared custody meant that I could -- and did -- immerse myself in the medium every holiday and summer vacation.
My mother did finally get a TV when the nanny she engaged to care for my infant half-brother insisted on it. However, my access was severely restricted with the assistance of my stepfather, who first doctored our black-and-white, antenna-based set so that it would only receive signals from PBS or TVO, and then years later installed a lock on our new color set so that my brother and I would have to ask for permission before we could watch anything. He had the only key that unlocked the set. No I am not making this up.
Aaaaanyway, it's no wonder that when I left home, the first thing I did in my new apartment was call the cable company and get hooked up. A couple of years ago my brilliant husband suggested we get a DVR and I've never looked back! Now I'm a confirmed TV addict.
Where am I going with all this? Well, because of my rather unique upbringing, I've always considered myself a newbie when it comes to technology, including cable TV. Because I didn't grow up taking TV or other tech for granted, I still find myself with a starry-eyed sense of wonder at it all.
Oh -- and I never, ever cede control of the remote. I ain't gettin' locked out again!
Next time: the dawning of the computer age