Lila Blue by Annie Katz Page B

world
was a friendly place.
    I rummaged in the basket beside
Lila's couch, where there were some brainy looking magazines about science and
nature and philosophy, but no TV Guide. I thought Lila must keep it by the
television set, and that's when I realized I hadn't seen a TV anywhere in the
house.
    I looked in every cabinet and
cupboard and closet. I even snooped in Lila's bedroom. No sign of a television,
radio, or stereo. I couldn't believe it.
    Upstairs, I thought. That makes
sense, a whole entertainment room like Shelly's parents' third floor. I'd seen
the puzzle and books, so the TV and stereo must be in a cabinet upstairs. I
switched on the light at the bottom of the narrow stairway and raced upstairs.
No television. No stereo. Not even a little radio alarm clock. Nothing. I
couldn't believe it.
    Every second my mother was in our
apartment, the television or the radio was on, usually both. I had to go in my
room and close the door if I wanted to read or do homework, and still there was
the constant background babble of TV voices or pop music, like the constant
roar of the surf on a beach.
    Here in Rainbow Village, the
constant roar of real surf must have lulled my brain so much that it took me
three days to figure out Lila didn't have a TV. I'd never imagined a person
could live that way. I was pretty sure people all over the world had
television. Could it be the Oregon beach had such terrible reception that they
were cut off from the rest of humanity?
    I plopped myself down on the
upstairs window seat overlooking the ocean and stared outside. Soon the cats
joined me there, and we napped in the patches of sunlight that broke through
the afternoon clouds.
    When I woke up, I went downstairs
and called Lila's barbershop.
    "Lila Blue," she answered
in a friendly business voice.
    "Grandma," I said,
"I can't find the TV."
    "Cassandra?"
    "I looked everywhere. I
couldn't even find a radio."
    "Oh, well, I don't have one. I
think there might be an old battery radio in the garage for emergencies, but
the batteries are probably dead by now."
    "I didn't look in the
garage," I said. I waited.
    After a few seconds, Lila spoke in
a very calm, patient tone of voice she might use with an insane person.
"Having no television must seem odd to you. Are you missing a special program?"
    "What about the news? Everyone
watches the news."
    "Listen, dear, I'm in the
middle of a haircut. Why don't you walk down to the shop? Look at the map. It
will only take five minutes. When you get here, I'll take a break and show you
around."
    "No, I'm okay. I just wondered
why I couldn't find it."
    "Okay, sweetheart. I'll be
home around six. Call again if you need anything."
    I was not okay. Honestly, I was
fine for about three minutes after I hung up, and then I was not fine. I was
restless, agitated, and annoyed. If my mother had given me a little advance
notice about sending me to this unbelievable summer camp experience, maybe I
could have gotten myself used to the idea. I could have called Lila on the
phone and asked a long list of questions before coming, such as running water?
electricity? English spoken? That way I could have been prepared.
    A thorough list of questions
wouldn't have been much help though, because television was like air. Who
thinks to ask if they have air in Oregon?
    Okay, I told myself. I can do this.
My mom said two weeks, so that means nine more days without TV. I'll live.
    To still the silence, I went
upstairs to explore the loaded bookcases there. I chose a book from the top
shelf and took it down to the couch in front of the ocean. I was well into The
White Dragon when I heard Lila come in through the kitchen door, and my
panic over the lack of television had evaporated.
    The next day, I packed the dragon rider
book in my backpack and went to the village with Lila. We'd walked on the beach
after breakfast in a misty rain, and before work, she took me for lunch at
Happy Hearts, a soup and salad place across from her barbershop.