Watching Television, Again

My Dad was a wonderful photographer. He made photography his hobby just before I was born. I have a black-and-white album and a color album for nearly every year of my young life.

Dad had a camera with him at most times. He often snapped photos of the family when we relaxed or engaged in uneventful activities, like eating, reading, knitting, napping or—as here and here—watching television.

My parents rationed how much time I spent in front of the tube. Generally, the limit was one hour per day. I recall that I got into some trouble one afternoon when Mom discovered me secretly watching "The Three Stooges."

Suburban Chicago, 1965. This photo may have captured me, again in the Rec Room, clutching a favorite pillow and focusing on an episode of "Bewitched." That was a special show because when it aired, my parents let me stay up until 8:30 so I could watch it.

Here, I also am wearing one of those Eastern European bows, to which I first referred in this post. I am sitting in a Danish teak chair that now would be called "mid-century modern." Behind me, a spool of thread sits on the old sewing machine, which stood in front of the big picture window facing the backyard veranda.