Kansas Snapshots by Gloria Freeland - January 23, 2026

Long live the TV

For most people, weekends often involve sleeping in or staying up late. The days might be filled with family, fun and the freedom to choose what we want to do.

But the bill must be paid. Monday arrives with bleary eyes, an altered sleep pattern, and a tank only half full. It's a grin-and-bear-it day, sustained by the notion that Friday will arrive again, although it seems very far in the distance.

As Monday afternoon turns ever-so-slowly to evening, nothing is more appealing than being home, having supper, and vegetating. Restaurateurs know this. That's why they often choose Mondays to be closed.

While there is never a good day for bad news, if I had to choose one when it would be least welcome, Monday might be my selection.

On January 5 - a Monday - husband Art and I decided to fill the evening with - let's call it, "easily-consumed entertainment" - the kind where I don't want to think. Just entertain me.

My wish was answered! Art picked up the TV remote and said, "I think you might enjoy this."

Bless him! We were spared that oh-so-familiar routine of scrolling through offerings, sampling a few here and there, and then settling for learning a few carpenters' tricks I'll never use from Tommy Silva in an old episode of "This Old House," or watching the gals on "The Repair Shop" restore some adult's childhood stuffed toy.

This evening would be different. While searching for something in the past, he had watched snippets of a movie called "Eighth Grade," and thought it might appeal to me when the time was right.

And it did. It was a bit formulaic, but that fits the no-thinking requirement. It was about the struggles of a teenage girl trying to deal with all the things teenage girls struggle with. While containing a number of quirky aspects, the star will not win any beauty contest. She will learn to cope, just like the vast majority of us did when we were in eighth grade.

We might have been bored with the show on a Friday night. On Fridays you want to see something different and unfamiliar. But on Monday night, visual comfort food is a perfect fit. This reflection of real life had been just the ticket.

When the credits began to roll, I headed off to the kitchen to get something when I heard Art say, "Uh-oh" in a tone that didn't sound good.

"It just died," he said.

I assumed he was checking his phone. The first few months of the new year is the period when there is a jump in the number of people who meet the Grim Reaper. It's when my first husband Jerome died. It's when mom died. It's when Art’s dad died.

If it hadn't been Monday, I might have picked up on the "it," rather than "he" or "she" or someone's name.

Prepared for bad news, I asked, "What?"

I returned to the living room. As I did, Art delivered words, but my nose requested my attention. The living room had an unfamiliar smell, a bit like melting plastic.

"The TV just died," he said. His tone of voice signaled he was slightly miffed to have to tell me again. The smell prompted the thought of a fire, so I asked if that was a possibility. "Unlikely," Art answered. "There was a tell-tale 'pop' and then it went black. Usually that is the end of it."

Looking on the bright side, Art remarked, "Wasn't that considerate of it to wait until just after the show was done?"

Well, I guess so, but it would have been nice if it had just kept on keeping on!

The "body" wasn't even cold, but Art already had his laptop open going through the options. We've had this TV since conversion to digital became mandatory in 2009. Since they figure five years is an average life for a TV, at 16 years, we were fortunate. Somehow I didn't feel fortunate.

"Are you sure it won't catch on fire?" I asked.

"It was almost certainly something in the power supply," he said. "It’s the oh-so-familiar smell of an overheated circuit board."

From helping Art with his work, I actually know what a circuit board looks like, but he didn't really answer my question. With some additional prodding, he assured me it would be fine. By that point, he had already removed the power cord from the back of the set.

"How about a 55-inch?" he asked.

"How big is this one?" I responded.

"I don't know. Measure it," he said.

I did and it measured 42 inches.

"It will be too big," I answered.

He wasn't convinced.

By bedtime, he had made his selection and discovered that Best Buy had four in stock at the lowest price available.

We picked it up the next day. It was a 55-inch. It fit in our van as if the space between the seats had been designed for it. It was awkward getting it up the steps, but by late in the afternoon, it was comfortably ensconced where Mr. Philips had so recently entertained.

Art busied himself capturing our router's Wi-Fi signal, scanning channels, and re-registering our various streaming services. While it did seem a little big, it was Tuesday - the day most people feel is only slightly better than Mondays. So as the smart TV got smarter, we had no problem transitioning from installation mode to learning more carpenters' tricks or watching a yellow bear being re-stuffed while cardboard and foam were still spread around the living room.

On Monday, January 5, we had a death in the family. But life moves on.

"The TV is dead. Long live the TV!"