Back then our TVs used antennae usually tied to some little pole nailed to roofs of houses, and for some strange reasons, it was always in the middle of a movie or football match, when the action was intensely suspenseful, that there would be a sudden community-wide power outage, a blackout that blackened our hearts and colored our joy grey.

If it were day time, the killer of our joy was likely a problem related to the signal, and a zealous uncle or cousin would climb our roof, tweaking and twisting the damned antenna in all directions while we shouted “Stop!“ whenever the tweaking produced crystal clear images for a few seconds.

Whoever was up there was always deaf to our plea to stop at the right moment, at the right place, in the right way.

Back and forth endless screams would be made till a smart sibling stood up to be the mediator of our exchanges, transmitting to the soul atop our roof our messages of just when the tuning was perfect… And voilà! Crystal clear images on our beloved screen once again.

As if the manufacturers of those black and white tvs cast some spell on their devices, the TV signal usually became normal again when the key moments in a movie or football match was nearly over.

But we were never dismayed. Our imagination pieced the rest of the story with whatever we had initially seen into a complete story.

Oh, the good old days!