A blonde 16-year-old girl impatiently jumps up and down in front of her 13-inch television, grasping the antenna. She complains to anyone bothering to listen, "The weather is ruining my Wednesday routine!"
Of course, if anyone was listening, they might closely examine her last observation; it was a sunny summer evening with no harsh weather in sight around the family's humble haven among the trees. Why then, would this teenager blame her "So You Think You Can Dance" withdrawal on this beautiful night?
There is vital information missing from this description: the Hawkins family belongs to, according to a survey by Consumer Electronics Association, the mere 13 percent of American households who take pleasure in a great thunderstorm because, for some unknown reason, it provides them with the valuable Fox channel. The blonde who is going seemingly coo-coo is the youngest member of the family: me. And despite the picture I have painted, my jumping technique does give a fuzzy glimpse into the world beyond network channels ABC, NBC and CBS.
Yes, my family is part of a minority in the United States, one to whom Congress awards the title, "disenfranchised." The "disenfranchised" specifically includes the Americans with analog broadcasting television, or in simpler terms, free basic network channels with antenna adjusting required.
It is understandable why legislators deem us essentially out of the loop; 87 percent of the 110 million American homes with a minimum of one TV set pay for extended channels. When friends visit my sheltered home in the woods, they gawk at the elongated TV antenna with the tips armed in tinfoil (I had read somewhere that this improves the picture). I have yet to find a peer with a similar problem of being stabbed in the stomach every morning on the way to breakfast because, in order to receive a still somewhat static CBS, the antenna must stretch across my path.
Whether it be for better or for worse, the antenna vs. Becca feud will not last much longer. On Feb. 17, 2009, legislators are abolishing analog format and bowing to the power of DTV: digital television. Will any of the three television sets in my home work after this fateful day next year? Not unless we buy a digital-to-analog converter.
Lest the "disenfranchised" erupt with concern, the government is providing coupons! The Department of Commerce will allow two $40 coupons per household for converters. But don't get too excited about this offer. There is fine print: each analog TV set will need a converter box, ranging from $50 to $70, and could very easily need new antennas as well. Apparently my "rabbit ear" antennas with tinfoil craftily attached to each tip will not suffice for the approaching digital age of TV.
But what exactly is this digital television and why is Congress so in support of it? DTV does have its viable advantages: the technology is more sophisticated, thereby offering better picture and sound quality. It also gives viewers more options per broadcasting station by a complicated process called multicasting. Most importantly, and not to mention a big hit among the legislators, it provides more space for public safety broadcasting.
The Feb. 17 change is not implemented to simply coerce the analog viewers into updating their outdated ways. However, is this nationwide technological advancement what our economy needs? Many Americans would be left unable to produce the funds necessary to upgrade, leaving them by the wayside as far as watching the newest episode of "Heroes" goes.
Then there are families like my own, who could manage the price and would definitely benefit from the digital features. I cannot say that I ever enjoyed bounding off the ground with the antenna in hand in order to get a glimpse of my favorite contestants from "So You Think You Can Dance" as they bound similarly across a stage; I have, however, become accustomed to it.
Having basic channels that broadcast nothing but bull-riding, golf and NASCAR as choices for Sunday afternoon entertainment is just a weekly reminder that I do not need television to alleviate my boredom.
But before I make myself out to be a saint, I must say I cure my media withdrawal in another way: I am a recently self-acclaimed YouTube addict. Just as my classmates spend hours glued to their flat-screen TVs, I do so to my computer screen. And while the YouTube viewing screen cannot compare to even my measly 13-inch TV set, I have never had to jump up and down in front of my computer for temperamental, thunderstorm-reliant contingencies.
Becca Hawkins is a junior at Elk Rapids High School.
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