The Exploding Television

The Exploding Television

         The ‘worries’ of life in suburbia were mostly imaginary. Reality came in a box with rabbit ear antenna that emitted a flickering light and could blind you if you sat too close. 



         I went to bed with images of “Top Cat” jumping into his garbage can, winding his alarm clock, and closing the lid for the night. The morning came suddenly. First I woke up, to Mother’s gentle voice. When I dozed back into my pillow, Dad would pop open the door and flip the light switch. “Get up!”



         Once I rubbed the burn from my eyes, I slid off the top of our bunk bed.  My bare feet slapped the hard wood floor. The aroma of coffee cajoled my nose. Before my brain knew it, I was slurping up cereal to the rowdy antics of Hattie the Witch and Rudy the Rooster. By the time Larry Smith’s lovable puppets said, “Don’t touch that dial…” we had eaten, dressed, and were out the door as we heard, “…or your television set will blow up!”  We ran to the corner, holding books, a nickel for milk, and lunch in a bag. Not hearing an explosion, we were sure that Mom didn’t turn off the TV. That or they were lying.



         We never did hear the explosion.  Then came April first  of 1963. My little sister was still going to Evendale School. She had to ride the bus. So, we ran – well, I ran. She just followed behind crying, “Wait up!” – Out the door to the corner where her bus would pick her up. I reluctantly stayed until her bus came and left in a cloud of blue nostril-burning smog. Then I walked down Creek road to the school. 



         This morning, we flung ourselves out of the house, hearing “…television set will…” we heard it every day, but nothing ever happened. Until we were rebellious teenagers, we didn’t dare to touch the dial for fear the set would blow up. The bus pulled up as we reached the stop. My sister was still whimpering behind me over my being three feet in front of her. The doors folded open. As the driver looked down at us, we heard BOOM!!



         It nearly blew us out of our shoes! The ground shook. We looked at each other big-eyed and open-mouthed. Our hearts still quivered in the wake of the blast. We could imagine our poor Mommy innocently reaching down (but not far for her, as she was only five feet tall) and tapping the button labeled ‘on’. Then, thinking only of what her day would be like with the kids gone; planning the next phone call to her friend Nancy; deciding to refill her coffee cup. Never dreaming that something would suddenly… The driver must have seen our faces. He barked a know-it-all laugh at us. “AW! That’s just the Super Sonic Jet! Broke the sound barrier! Get on!”



         We didn’t know what a sound barrier was. We figured, though that he could have found a quieter way to break it. Our house was still standing. It wasn’t engulfed in a mushroom cloud. The only smoke was coming from the bus. So we went on to school, still able to hear.