I always looked forward to Saturday mornings as a child. The good cartoons were always on between the hours of nine and noon, and I never really had to change the channels to find what I wanted. I was fortunate to grow up with cable television, but, as with most kids, it could have been better. Our television was a cabinet style model. The picture tube was encased in a wooden cabinet, and the television itself had a tuning knob for 13 different channels. I learned at an early age about that knob. With cable television, the actual knob on the television wasn’t meant to be changed from channel four, because for the cable box to work the television itself had to stay on channel four. Even after all these years, I’m still at a loss as to why it worked that way. But I do remember our cable box. It was a small, gray rectangular prism with two green knobs. One had approximately 50 channels, and the other one was much smaller and labeled, “tuning.” I was forbidden to turn the smaller knob. For some reason, I must have never been curious about it, since I have no recollection of ever touching it.
My spot in the living room was always somewhere on the floor. I liked to lie on the floor and read, or at least look at the pictures, or color/draw while I watched television with my parents. My being on the floor was a fantastic thing for them. I was closer to the cable box and the television; I was a living, breathing remote control. But Saturday mornings meant the television was mine. More… “Happy Accidents”