A r iz o n a B ib l e C o l l e g e
a soap ope ra SLAVE
than before. Our TV set was a handy distraction. My husband, Walt, was away the first time I turned on the TV at noon. Usually he and I had lunch with our two boys. I de cided to see what was on. I sat entranced th rou gh “ L ove o f Life,” “ Search For Tomorrow,” and “ The Guiding Light.” The dramas were vividly portrayed. The acute problems captured my curiosity. Walt showed surprise the next day when I tuned in again. Lunch wasn’t served until 1 o’clock. I tried to appear above the whole situation. For the n ex t few days I thought of one excuse after an other to watch the serials. First I was a critic. “ Do the writers actually believe this is real life?” The feeling of not really accept ing the trash seemed to make watching all right. Then I became a p roph et. “ These silly characters do the same predictable things over and over. I can tell right now that Barbara’s grandmother will be the cause of trouble in Barb’s home. Then Barb and Rick will take it out on each other.” I rea soned the mental exercise was stimulating. One day I realized I was watch ing because I had to know what was going to happen. I gave the excuse I needed a midday break. I wasn’t wasting my time! The mending needed doing or I must get my fancy work finished. But many times I wracked my brain all morning about work I could do while watching my programs.
I w a s A m i s f i t during my brief stay in the hospital when our third child was born. The diffi culty was my ignorance o f the most popular topic o f conversa tion — the tragic death o f a fa vorite TV soap opera heroine. Her passing seemed to be the loss of every mother there. At the noon hour gathering in the maternity lounge, the women took turns inserting quarters for the privilege of seeing the latest episode. By the time I went home, I actually wondered if Bruce and Vanessa would get a divorce. Soon after I returned home a friend called and said she was worried about another woman— a missionary home on furlough. “ I don’t know what to think,” Margie confided. “ A few days ago Connie phoned me. She was crying, and I thought something must have happened at home. But do you know what it was? She was crying because her favorite leading lady on a daytime serial had died.” One day my safe world came to an end. Jeanette, our oldest child, developed incurable kidney cancer. The tumor was surgically removed but the cancer had al ready spread. A few weeks after bringing her home, we were given a used TV set. At the time we were grateful. Some o f the pro grams helped Jeanette forget her pain. Four months later the Lord took her home. Summertime activities, includ ing DVBS, a church conference, and a three-week vacation helped fill the void. But late in August I felt loneliness and sorrow more
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