My Smart TV

I am a baby boomer, and as such, hold dear memories of when watching television did not require a certification in electronics. 

When I grew up we had two televisions, a Zenith and a Philco. Both sets were black and white, and the Philco swiveled on a base with four wooden legs. The picture swiveled too and couldn't be trusted to stay in one place for more than a few seconds. When The Outer Limits' announcer said, "We will control the horizontal, we will control the vertical," I'd shout the eight-year-old's version of, "Oh, thank God!" 

When I was growing up, we had seven television channels, and switching around within them was a breeze, even though, until the advent of the TV remote, one had to get up off one's fanny to change channels, and actually touch the set, which made TV viewing at least somewhat interactive and one way to get a little exercise. 

Once remotes came along, the couch potato was born, and it was possible to flop down on your sofa and channel surf for hours. 

A neighbor of my aunt failed to grasp the intention behind the remote and would get up, walk to the TV, pick up the remote from on top of the TV, change the channel, put the remote back down and return to her chair. But at least she wasn't a couch potato. She was no genius either. 

Today, unlike some of their owners, TVs are "smart." My TV said right on the box that it was smart, but I attribute this to the fact that smart TVs are often arrogant and boastful. Being complicated, difficult and frustrating doesn't make you smart. 

At any given moment, my kids and I might be using our "streaming stick" (something that sounds like it should be a home pregnancy test) to watch a show and then need our game-pad to access what we want to watch next. When I was young, the most technically advanced procedure we might have to perform on a TV was adjusting the rabbit ears on top. 

I need my kids in order to watch television because I'm so dumbfounded by all the equipment needed to watch one stupid TV show. In my defense, even my son referred to one of our recent TV tech add-ons as "that cable thing we just got." 

Last night both kids were going to be away so my daughter got me all set up to watch HGTV. She was going out the door when I asked how to change channels. Syd said, "I'm sorry, Mom, but I think we'll have to wait until I have more time." 

Then she left me all alone with the TV and all the "stuff" that goes with it. 

The first thing that went wrong was the audio getting out of sync with the video. My son tells me this is because we have a cheap internet service provider. Eventually the show I was watching shut down altogether and a message appeared on the screen saying: "Due to inactivity, playback was stopped to save bandwidth."

I sat bolt upright, clutched my bag of chips and yelled, "Whadda ya mean inactive?" And isn't TV all about inactivity unless you're an actor in Sons of Anarchy? Was I supposed to be wired to the TV so it could monitor my heart rate? If it was so smart, why didn't it just walk over and feel my pulse? 

After Syd got home, we wanted to switch to Hulu for Parks and Recreation, and it was another big process just to do that. I watched with envy as her little fingers danced around all the stuff and like a miracle, Parks and Recreation came on.

"Syd, do you think you can ever teach me how to watch TV without help?" I asked.

"Oh, sure, Mom," she said. But she said it like I'd just asked if there was a chance I'd ever build my own spaceship, and she didn't have the heart to tell me it was hopeless. Still, I'm optimistic. 

But I'm saving my receipt from the Acme Rocket Ship Company just in case. 

Rabbit Ears

When I grew up in the sixties and seventies, we had about seven television channels, and switching around within them was a breeze. Today, TVs are "smart." My TV said right on the box that it was smart, but I attribute this to the fact that smart TVs are often arrogant and boastful. Being complicated, difficult, and frustrating doesn't make you smart. 

Bunny Ears, copyright 
Teece Aronin.

Since our purchase of a smart TV, I have witnessed my kids hopscotching between Hulu, Netflicks, and YouTube and using a "streaming stick" to stream shows from other places. Sometimes they needed our game-pad to get to what they wanted to watch. When I was young, the most technically advanced procedure we might have to perform in order to watch TV was adjusting the rabbit ears or switching from UHF to VHF. 

When remotes first hit the scene, my aunt had a neighbor who would get up from her chair, cross the room to where the remote was kept on top of the TV, change the channel, then return the remote to the TV top and sit back down. In that case, the TV wasn't smart and neither was its owner.

I need at least one kid handy when I want to watch TV because I'm dumbfounded by all the equipment needed to watch one simple television show. In my defense, even my son referred to one of our recent TV tech add-ons as "that cable thing we just got." 

Last night both kids were going to be away so my daughter, Syd got me all set up to watch HGTV. She was going out the door when I asked how to change channels. Syd said, "I'm sorry, Mom, but I think we'll have to wait until I have more time." 

Then she left me all alone with nothing to keep the TV running but its smarts and mine.

The first thing I noticed is that the audio was out of sync with the video and that the video was ahead. My son tells me this is because we have a cheap internet service provider. Eventually the show I was watching shut down altogether and a message appeared on the screen saying: "Due to inactivity, playback was stopped to save bandwidth."

I sat bolt upright, with my bag of chips and yelled, "Whadda ya mean inactive?" Was I supposed to be talking to the TV? My father used to yell at ours when watching Hockey Night in Canada, but it didn't seem to improve his viewing experience and anyway, I would have thought those days were gone. If the TV was so smart, why did it need help from me?

After Syd got home, we wanted to switch to Hulu for Parks and Recreation, and it was another big process just to do that. I watched wistfully as her little fingers danced around all the stuff and like a miracle, Parks and Recreation came on.

"Syd, do you think you can teach me how to watch TV without help?"

"Oh, sure, Mom," she said. But she said it like I'd just asked if I could ever learn to build my own spaceship, and she didn't have the heart to tell me it was hopeless.