Kati Fuchs
For as long as I can remember, ABC 7 Eyewitness News was there. Present. Humming as the background noise. Taking over the conversations at dinner. But it was never a guest in our home without the admiration of its biggest fan: my dad. Quite honestly, ABC 7 Eyewitness News became less of a guest and more of a permanent resident. The second my dad arrived home, it was expected of my mom and I to have ABC 7 Eyewitness News ready to greet my dad. Like a child past their curfew, if ABC 7 Eyewitness News was not present at the time my dad arrived home, there was a serious discussion of where it was and how long before it would show face.
And the volume always had to be blasting. Always. And for why? I cannot begin to explain. I wish I knew. You probably have a more valid reason at this point, without knowing anything about this experience at all.
I hated television. Wait, revise, that isn’t true. I loved television. I remember going to the doctor for my yearly check-up when I was little and watching my mom fill out one of those packets that was almost like a pre-screening for the appointment. Some of the questions involved technology and how much time the child spent watching TV or playing video games. My mom checked the box for 4-6 hours a day, which when you think about it, is a lot of time in a child’s life between going to school, spending time with friends, attending sports practices, and playing with toys.
My favorite shows were found on Cartoon Network and Nickelodeon. Spongebob was and always will be my favorite TV show. But the moment my dad walked into the room, the TV was usurped. I had to relinquish my TV rights.
This is when I hated television – when my dad took control immediately, telling me that his news was more important. He always said, “Can’t I just hear the first five minutes of the news!” But like the boy who cried wolf, this was known to really mean the full 25 minutes of the news, all the way up until the part where the news team reviewed some cute and encouraging messages and images.
Isn’t it interesting how only the last five minutes are reserved for uplifting messages? Life-sucking scenarios for 25 minutes effectively squander any light illuminated from those happy stories and moments, but my dad would say the news is just being real with us and what should I expect. Real with our real-world: 83% negative (25 minutes out of 30), 17% positive (5 minutes out of 30). And if the world news was on after the regional program, oh boy. You’re in for the long haul.
Interestingly enough (funny enough?), my dad’s passive aggressive way to let my mom and I know we should not be talking in the kitchen as the news was playing was to increase the volume of the TV system over our conversation. I just gave my mom a bewildered look, as always, and shook my head. “What’s his problem?” I would mouth, as I flipped my palms upward, toward the sky. She never had a good answer. That’s because I don’t think there was a good answer.
The true show-time of the news is approximately 15 minutes or less without commercials. It’s ridiculous, and I almost feel as if the commercials have become progressively more invasive. The commercials showcase some of the most foreboding messages, wrapped up in a serene depiction of, let’s say, a couple walking through a park. The commercials are all about medications, alongside an expansive listing of their side effects (most of which lead to death). I guess the advertisement agents really know how to read their audience – I only know of older people watching the news.
What’s more, is the fact that news hosts and anchors share about five sentences and then the program immediately goes into these types of commercials. Viewers are pretty much forced to stay through the whole program, since the structure of the news always keeps the juiciest occurrences for the middle of the broadcast.
I will say, though, I do really try to put myself in my dad’s shoes. And I did picture myself as my dad in this situation, coming home after an exhausting day and wanting to see a favorite show. But why did he have to be so whiny about it? For your child’s sake, model an acceptable way to disagree with the circumstances.
I don’t have to speculate how my dad would justify his infatuation involving TV, and more specifically, his news. He’s quite the verbalizer.
You guys [my mom and I] have had time to relax, and I just walked in the door, and I just want to hear the first five minutes of the news.
The dog is being annoying! She needs to be taken out. I don’t want to hear her whining when the news is going. I have dealt enough with her today.
Shhh! Can’t we just hear the first five minutes of the news? Why do you have to [insert any activity that is noise inducing here] right now? Can’t that wait? That’s all I’m asking. Thank you.
It never fails! Every time! I just want to see the fucking news! And this shitty signal doesn’t pick up on the TV! Piece of shit.
In that last scenario, my dad would be forced to get up from the couch and fix our antenna. The antenna was a new addition when I was in high school. My parents were sick of paying for cable TV, so we just spent money on streaming services as well as an antenna to pick up the signal of… guess what… the news.
It’s fascinating, though, to think about how my dad branched out to other news stations because of some channels not holding a strong signal on certain days than others. If the beloved ABC 7 Eyewitness news signal could not be maintained, NBC was the next best. There were alternatives; the fixation would not be broken. Ever.
At this point, because I had been forced to sit with the news as we ate our dinner or heard it as I talked to my mom downstairs or did my homework upstairs, I grew so familiar to the structure and repeated inflection of the news broadcasters that even if I was not directly watching TV, but rather just hearing the low hum of voices coming from the system, as for when I was upstairs purposely separating myself from the news, I could tell you how far into the news program you were as well as whether or not it was a situation evoking much response and action. I put this into practice as I would defiantly refuse to turn my eyes toward the television screen as we ate dinner in our living room. My head would be down, pushing around the food on my plate. Loathing the very program playing out in front of me.
I imagine my dad finding comfort in routine: work, come home, put on the TV, eat, TV, sleep. I don’t prefer routine. I know it’s helpful, but I need excitement and change. I imagine my dad needing to hear about total chaos in order to feel as if his own dilemmas have not yet amounted to that level of conflict. He would settle down after some sustenance in him, both physical and current-events-based.
And sometimes I wonder about his obsession with the TV. I read a short story, “The Pedestrian” by Ray Bradbury, and I wonder if my dad is just like any other individual in that science fiction story who is a slave to the media. He would deny it, for sure, as anyone would. He would tell me it’s important to stay informed. I always say that if something is important enough, I’ll find out about it at some point through any medium.
Breaking news: he would disagree.