Listing the reasons why it was a treat to visit my grandparents each summer couldn't capture the joy of those lazy months. Besides being treated to old war stories, homemade candy, and an untamed expanse beyond the field ripe for exploring they were the first people I knew to get satellite television.
Never in my dreams of pizza mountains and Ninja Turtles could I have foreseen the endless bounty they had received from the channel gods. I delighted in spelunking into the unused parts of the dial, just to see what was there by mapping it one channel at a time. One cool June night, after spending an energetic day swimming, I collapsed into my grandpa's giant armchair eagerly awaiting picking up where I had left off. Restlessly, I roamed until I was greeted by the pallid man on channel 472
He must have been starving, as his skin hung loosely from his fragile frame. Mesmerized by the intensity of his eyes, I listened as he shouted random numbers, letters, and words from assorted languages I'd never heard before. Eerily devoid of inflection or tone, he dryly continued for what must have been hours - not stopping once for a break. Just as I was reaching for the remote, his eyes summoned a faraway look for just a millisecond and then he whispered my name before returning to his task. I sat, transfixed, watching him until the dawn when I succumbed to exhaustion.
While I've never been able that man or his show again, I have spent my life researching it. The information is everywhere actually, if you know where to find it. That is why I am writing this. I now know what he's was trying to tell us. And, for the sake of all humanity, I need to get my show on the air