childhood disappointment

I remember way, way back then
when first I saw television.
So Dad could judge its worth-while
one was brought to our house for a trial
by the man from Retravision.

He set it up on the back veranda
the better to be able
to run to the aerial on his truck parked outside
the thick, long extension cable.
The neighbours had all been invited
for the free viewing and showing
of the newest wonder money could buy
and the reception they could be expecting
if thinking perhaps the technology to try.

It was a beautiful balmy summer evening.
A blanket of stars slowly dawned
as into an outdoor picture theatre
the yard of our home was swiftly transformed.
We kids ran amok while all was set up
playing skip jump with the extension cable
being called now and then to carry
plates of goodies to occasional tables
and place every chair in the house in rows
on the lawn of the garden, before the TV.

From the start Mum and Aunt sat perfectly still
plates of potato chips on their knees
watching the test pattern, until
the broadcast began and we all sat through
the news, a bad movie and a doco – all boring
(at least to those of us less than four feet in height)
then just as a cartoon of Mickey’s tugboat came on
they packed up and called it a night!