We thought we could just turn off our TV and be done with it. It sounded easy enough. But we quickly found that it wasn't so easy. Video entertainment is a monster that follows us around. It waits for us in the restaurant. It lurks in the doctor's office. It bombards us as we stroll through the mall. It slithers into schools through the cracks of a crumbling education system. It even invades places of worship.
This isn't the reason that we stopped watching. No, I didn't fully realize how desperate the screen was for our attention until we stopped willingly giving it our attention. Now I notice things.
Last year we took our vacation in a small tourist town. Among the boutiques and bistros, one shop had placed a giant TV near it's front window. It was playing a home improvement "reality" show. The next time I glanced around, it was commercials. A man on the phone. Then some friends in a party scene. Then a clip of a woman taking a bath. How did it become normal for me and my kids to walk down a small town's main street and be exposed to video footage of a woman taking a bath? We can walk faster, but we can't turn it off.
McDonald's is not just fast food. It's nostalgia. It's memories of time with family and friends. It's part of my childhood. And it's where our oldest child took her first bite of a cheeseburger. I used to love taking my kids to McDonald's. But when we turned off the TV, McDonald's didn't. In fact, they added more screens. They have video games in the play area, news shows and sports games in the dining room, and video ads on the large menu screens. I remember the first time it happened. We were sitting down eating our lunch. I was trying to have a conversation with my kids, but they were distracted. I looked over my shoulder and saw that they were watching slow motion clips of tumbling nuggets, bouncing burger patties, and a creamy shake pouring into a cup. All of this on a loop that never ended. It was hypnotizing. It was designed to capture attention and hold it - and it worked.
I was injured recently. Don't worry, I'm OK. But I needed to get checked out at the urgent care clinic. My wife had to drive me there, so the whole family had to go. We entered the waiting room and found a TV attached to the wall, playing some kind of cable reality show. We headed to the wall under the TV - the only place where we could avoid seeing the screen. But we couldn't avoid hearing it. I saw my child casting her glaze upward. I gently redirected her attention. But there we were, sitting in a room with a TV. Again.
Some of these TV situations are avoidable. We can choose to eat at Chick-Fil-A instead of McDonald's (and we do). But even in places with no TVs, people bring their own. And they often play their shows at full volume without headphones. We were out to dinner at The Cheesecake Factory. Our kids should have been enjoying a special evening with us and their grandparents. But a small screen caught my daughter's eye. I watched as she focused in on a mobile phone at another table. Some kid was watching a cartoon. In a huge restaurant filled with artwork, creative lighting, and hundreds of people; my kid was distracted by the moving images on a five inch screen that was at least ten feet away.
So we can avoid some places and situations with TV. But we can't escape all of them. It's hard to avoid the urgent care clinic when someone is hurt. Our kids' dentist gladly turns off the TV for us - but not everyone is so nice. And when we're walking down the street, we're subjected to whatever some retail store chooses to play on their screen. So we can't just turn off TV. We only control the handful of screens that our family owns. The rest are still turned on. Millions of screens, and more of them every day. Video entertainment follows us around. It wait for us in many places. This isn't the reason that we stopped watching. But since we did, I've begun to see TV for what it is; desperate, rude, and ubiquitous. It is a monster. And I wish we could actually turn it off.
