DURING the late 60s up till the early 70s, the main centerpiece of our tiny living room had been a black and white Zenith television set. If one ponders on this for a moment and compares it with what many households enjoy at the present time, one could say that our time then was pretty much spartan.
For us boys growing up, this was our little piece of reality during them old days, along with only having to enjoy three available TV stations in Davao at the time. To compound things, these only operated until twelve midnight (or earlier), unlike today’s at least thirty-four channels with a 24/7 schedule (if one had cable).
So on weekend nights, my younger brother and I would wait patiently until each of the three TV stations had played their closing national anthems before we finally proceeded upstairs to bed. Sometimes though, even in the middle of the week and despite school the next day, the two of us would still sneak down to watch either Hitchcock or the Monkees, as if to bleed that old Zenith pretty much set dry.
Then a strange thing happened during one particular closing time (on TV-13 I think it was). Usually, right after the national anthem, what followed was the fuzzy snow and the white noise along with it. However, during this particular time, the TV screen slowly filled up again to feature a full hour of comedy which we later learned was The Jack Benny Show! (For the gens who came later, this Bri’ish comedian was the forerunner of Mr. Bean and many others.)
Alas, today’s millennials can relate to the elation we felt at the time. You might have just finished watching a Marvel movie. Then, just as you and your friends stood up and prepared to leave the movie house after the end credits, the cinema lights dimmed again, and the screen brightened up to reveal a sneak preview of what’s to come or the next installment of the saga you have just watched. An extra treat, indeed!
Suffice it to say, from that night on, until our family moved to the Bajada mothership, whenever we watched TV and the station ID, and national anthem came on to end programming, we would calmly wait for a few minutes longer…and hoped that they would offer us an extra helping. At that, we’d say to ourselves, “There might still be a Jack Benny.”
As for me, with those days long gone and my now small family of three finally free of the TV, at last, be it in any everyday situation, I still maintain the idea of an extra treat or blessing waiting at every corner.
You could say the mindset has become my own little ray of hope during each end-of-the-day programming kind of scenario or personal trial. The feeling is just simple, like no other. Once darkened, the screen on your life is suddenly slowly brightening up again to open a new door to reveal a new show. So full of stars!
