You see, when traveling long distances in the station wagon, we (my wife is a willing accomplice) are not above plopping videos into a portable VCR wedged between the front seats (don’t call OSHA).
We insert them like quarters into a juke box for as long as we can get by with it.
We thus buy an hour or two of stupefied quiet from our two daughters, strapped helplessly into their theater seats behind us.
They stare in stone-faced silence, their faces glowing with the changing images on the undersized screen.
We know sitting so close in darkness is not good for their eyes. We know their minds grind to a halt. In their boob-tube daze, we have to tell the zombies to eat and go to the bathroom.
Even when it’s bedtime, they never fall asleep while watching a video — at least they never close their eyes.
But, heaven help us, we crave it so. Surely, those of you who know the strident whining and sniping that siblings are capable of while traveling can appreciate the beauty of it all.
My wife has become a maestro from her front passenger seat. “Louder, please!” comes the bark from in back of us. Deftly, she reaches back without looking. Her finger finds the VCR button to the far right. (Far left is off. Over three is play.)
The videos become a benchmark for our travels.
“How long until we’re there?”
“About two Dora videos.”
Or, “We’ll be home before ‘Stuart Little 2’ is over.”
Unfortunately, the speaker is in the part of the VCR on our side of the seats, so we have to really crank up the volume for our young listeners in back.
The din is one of the willing sacrifices we make. Who knows how many hours of sports talk shows I’ve bypassed for the sake of mute children.
Sometimes, when we’re not in the mood for the video racket, we cleverly insert a rule that the girls can’t watch a video until “we reach the highway.” In West Virginia, we can stretch that out indefinitely.
There’s another sensory phenomenon associated with the video force-feeding.
The first time we ever watched the Disney video “Hercules,” I only heard it.
Same for “A Bug’s Life” and “James and the Giant Peach.”
Even though I can’t see it, or perhaps precisely so, I find my imagination goosed, my attention more focused when listening to audio only. Just as I conjure vivid images when listening to the old-time radio shows, I imagine what the characters and scenes look like in my mind’s eye.
It’s sometimes startling to see the actual images, days or weeks later, when I watch the video for the first time.
Those traveling-circus insects in “A Bug’s Life” didn’t look at all like I thought they would.
I find myself trying to place voices.
For example, if you hear them enough times you’ll recognize that the voice of the French-accented cleaner shrimp Jacques in “Finding Nemo” is the same as the rotund caterpillar Heimlich in “A Bug’s Life.”
Possession of such trivia is sure to come in handy some time.
“Girls, do you want to watch another video?”
(The Voices column is written by a rotating team of New Era staffers. It appears Mondays.)
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