Soul of Adoption

The Stranger
 
This is very interesting and not the ending I had expected!!!!
 
A few years after I was born, my Dad met a stranger who was new to our small  Texas town.  From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer and soon invited him to live with our  family.  The stranger was quickly accepted and was around  from then on.
 
As I grew up, I never questioned his place in my family.  In my young mind, he had a special niche.  My parents were complementary instructors: Mom taught me good from evil, and Dad taught me to obey.  But the stranger ... he was our storyteller.   He would keep us spellbound for hours on end with adventures, mysteries and comedies.
 
If I wanted to know anything about politics, history or science, he always knew the answers about  the past, understood the present and even seemed able to  predict the future!  He took my family to the first major league ball game.  He made me laugh, and he made me cry.   The stranger never stopped talking, but Dad didn't seem to mind.
 
Sometimes,  Mom would get up quietly while the rest of us were shushing each other to listen to what he had to say, and she would go  to the kitchen for peace and quiet. (I wonder now if she ever prayed for the stranger to leave.)
 
Dad  ruled our household with certain moral convictions, but the  stranger never felt obligated to honor them.  Profanity,  for example, was not allowed in our home ... Not from us, our  friends or any visitors.  Our longtime visitor, however,  got away with four-letter words that burned my ears and made  my dad squirm and my mother blush.  My Dad didn't permit the liberal use of alcohol ...  But the stranger encouraged us to try it on a regular basis.  He  made cigarettes look cool, cigars manly and pipes distinguished. He talked freely (much too  freely!) about sex.  His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing.
 
I now know that my early concepts about  relationships were
influenced strongly by the stranger.   Time after time, he
opposed the values of my parents,  yet he was seldom
rebuked... And NEVER asked to leave.
 
More than fifty years have passed since  the stranger moved in with our family.  He has blended  right in and is not nearly as fascinating as he was at first.   Still, if you could walk into my parents' den today, you  would still find him sitting over in his corner, waiting for  someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his  pictures.  His name?.......
 
We just  call him 'TV.'
 
(Note: This  should be required reading for every household!)
 
He has a wife  now .... We call her 'Computer.'