John's blog notes that today is the nineteenth anniversary of the Challenger disaster. Immediately what popped into my mind, of course, was, "where was I?" I was in military technical training in some bumfuck state on the east coast. (That's what happens after boot camp--they train you and then send you on your merry way to your first duty station.) Although there was a t.v. in the barracks, I never watched it, and I never read the paper or anything either. And, *gasp!* there was no internet at the time! So anyway, I was completely insulated from the goings-on in the world. We were marching in formation either to or from class that day and one of my colleagues, someone who actually kept up with current events, announced that the space shuttle had blown up. Nobody believed him, and he got really upset. "It's true, goddammit! It fucking blew up!" It was sobering, and I think we marched the rest of the way in silence. I was nineteen.
John also brings up the interesting point that his eldest offspring eschews television. Me too, I don't even have one. It cracks me up -- if I say I don't have a t.v., invariably people say, "Hey, I've got one you can have!" People react so strongly to the news; they'd be more accepting if I announced I maintained an arsenal in my apartment. It's been what, almost four years since I've had a t.v. and I haven't missed it at all. I've been shielded from the assaults on my senses such as "reality" television and campaign ads, and for that, I'm grateful. To me, television is a "celebration of mediocrity" [I love that phrase and wish I remembered where I heard it so I could give proper credit].
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