As a young boy growing up in the '60s and '70s, most of us got by with about nine TV channels. Of course there were no remote controls then, and kids had to sit about five feet from the screen so they could easily change channels from The Flintstones to Johnny Quest to "real" cartoons and the like. (Back in those days, The Flintstones was on prime time.) Parents were constantly reminding kids not to sit too close to the TV-something about it ruining your eyes. At least that's what I heard a lot of.

Unlike today, we only owned one TV set, so when the old girl went down, it was as if you'd lost a loved one! After calling the TV repairman to set up a house call (can you imagine?), you might have to wait several days if he was booked up. Boredom would set in, and you would count the days and then the hours until you could once again watch your favorite shows.

When the "TV Man," as I called him, arrived, it was a hero's welcome! Into the den he would come, carrying his thick brown bag, "a doctor of electronics," if you will. Inside of that bag were all kinds of gadgets that would be used to bring the old Zenith back to life. By trial and error, the TV Man would diligently try to find the tube that needed replacement, doing the trick and once again giving us a window on the world. One such window was on a late July night in 1969, when we all watched Armstrong and Aldrin walk on the moon. We were barely able to make out their images, but still?

When he was finished with the job, the TV Man would pack up his bag and be on his way to the next call. Even though he was a hero to a young boy, I always hoped I wouldn't see him again any time soon.

Mike Russo is a lifelong Branford resident and proud parent of two children.