avatarAmanda Laughtland

Summary

The author expresses gratitude to their small television, reflecting on its reliability and companionship before its retirement to the spare room with the arrival of a larger TV.

Abstract

The author pens a heartfelt tribute to their "Tiny TV," appreciating its service despite poor reception and the absence of cable or streaming subscriptions. The TV, a fixture on a family heirloom cart, provided comfort and entertainment with its ability to stream shows when the author chose to subscribe. The arrival of a larger TV, prompted by a shift in the author's movie-watching habits post-pandemic, leads to the small TV's relocation to a quieter space. The author contemplates the change, drawing parallels to their mother's detachment from a long-watched soap opera, and considers adding a retro gaming console to the small TV's new setting for continued enjoyment.

Opinions

  • The author values the small TV's simplicity and reliability, appreciating its service without the need for extensive viewing options.
  • There is a sense of nostalgia and comfort associated with the small TV, which is likened to a family heirloom.
  • The author acknowledges a shift in their own entertainment preferences, moving from traditional movie-going to a more home-centered experience.
  • The author empathizes with the idea of growing apart from activities once loved, using their mother's disinterest in a soap opera as an example.
  • The author shows consideration for the small TV's new role in the spare room, suggesting an interest in preserving its utility and enjoyment with the potential addition of a retro gaming console.

Gratitude

Dear Tiny TV

I hope you enjoy your retirement to the spare room

Photo by Joshua Rawson-Harris on Unsplash

You were all the TV that I needed with your short, rectangular screen supported by plastic feet. You fit perfectly onto the wooden TV cart that used to belong to my grandparents.

It never bothered you that I have poor local reception and no cable service. You waited patiently through times when I didn’t watch you much because I was busy doing I don’t remember what, times when I was feeling too grumpy or depressed to subscribe to streaming services. You didn’t mind if I just watched a couple programs from the library now and then.

I was glad to see you light up when I did decide to pay for streaming. You were always there if I wanted to have a cup of herbal tea and relax with Perry Mason or The Mary Tyler Moore Show. You liked finding new shows, too, or stuff that was new to you and me.

Thank you for the countless hours you kept me company.

I didn’t think a big TV would come into my life. I hadn’t pictured one here. Bringing in a big TV to me feels like moving a movie screen into one’s home. But it’s true I don’t go to movies anymore. I stopped caring somehow.

Did you ever stop caring about something you’d always loved, something that helped you experience the world in a different way but also with the comfort of distance built in? Did you ever give up one of your shows, like the way my mom dropped Days of Our Lives after watching the characters’ families grow for years? The Bradys could marry and divorce the Hortons forever, and my mom no longer cared.

It’s like that with going to the movies for me. I’ll watch them at home these days, but why do I need to get up from the couch and experience the anxiety of the sounds of coughing and/or sneezing and/or breathing in the dark?

I don’t suppose you ever wanted to leave home anyway, comfortable as you were on the TV stand, with the light through the living room window gently warming your back.

Now that the big TV is here, I hope you’ll like the peace and quiet of the spare room. If it gets too quiet for you, I was thinking of buying one of those retro Atari consoles with a variety of classic games built in — I thought you might get a kick out of that, too. I’ll follow up with you soon.

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