One of my distinct memories as a little girl includes watching television in black and white. Among the shows that created my first memories of TV were the Dick Cavett show, the Dick Van Dyke show, I Love Lucy, I Dream of Jeannie, What’s my Line, and the Ed Sullivan show (yes, these date me as that old!). All these memories are black and white in my mind. We knew nothing else. Color TV had not arrived on the scene at that time, at least not on our rural Pennsylvania farm scene.
When color TV presented itself in the mid-1960s, we eagerly made the switch. It was not that there was anything wrong with the black and white TV. Once the old set’s tube had warmed up, we could see the story line revealing itself clearly. The action was visibly powerful. The characters seemed to have a real life even though we knew they were virtual. But in the end, it was all in black and white.
I wonder now if the eventual switch to color TV that my parents made presented a problem for the persistent values and ethic of stewardship that were deeply ingrained in them, they, who as good Pennsylvania Dutch farmers, never threw anything away willy nilly and only replaced it when it had completely exhausted its viability. A case in point are the M and H and BN FarmAll tractors that still functioned adequately after 60 years due to my father’s skilled mechanical abilities.
It’s possible to live a black and white life and not realize that a life of color exists. But what does one do when that discovery is made? When one realizes that all of life previously has been lived in less than vivid colors, without the dynamic brilliance of color that enters through the eye and palpably and viscerally stirs the soul and body.
Lives can be serviceable, satisfactory, successful, even admirable, and yet lacking something that is comparable to that difference between black and white and color. It is the vibrancy, brilliance, luster, dazzle, passion, and energy of a color TV life that reminds me of the question posed by Mary Oliver in her poem Summer Day. If we have one life to live and color is available beyond black & white, how does one navigate the choices and impact, and the discernment needed to weigh those two options? Can one treasure the faithful, trusty black and white set while seeking the wonders of color-filled tele-vision?
How does the heart find its way through that journey in life? What’s holding you back from opting for color?
Poem 133: The Summer Day Who made the world? Who made the swan, and the black bear? Who made the grasshopper? This grasshopper, I mean-- the one who has flung herself out of the grass, the one who is eating sugar out of my hand, who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-- who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes. Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face. Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away. I don't know exactly what a prayer is. I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel in the grass, how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields which is what I have been doing all day. Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do With your one wild and precious life? ---Mary Oliver
Letting go of strings 