MICKI BARE Advertisement

Television broadcasting will be completely converted to digital in a matter of days. That is, unless analog broadcasting receives another last minute stay from top government officials. Barring any further delays, the old system will become defunct on June 12. Disappearing with it is the existence of rabbit ear engineers.

My dad was the best when it came to rigging up rabbit ears to tune in all available television stations. He could manipulate the equipment and obtain clear reception on any television in any corner of any living room anywhere in the country.

During my formative years, we lived on a mountain that did not receive cable television services until I hit my teens. Our town was located about 75 to 80 miles northwest of New York City; the place where all the local television broadcasts originated. By the time Dad was done setting up his television reception equipment, we were able to tune in all four channels -- NBC, CBS, ABC and PBS -- with perfect clarity.

It all began with the roof antenna. We had an above-average metal contraption affixed to the highest peak of our roof. It resembled a two-dimensional pine tree drawn by a preschooler. The only thing that reached higher into the sky above our shingles was the lightening rod. The two metal structures attracted several gigawatts of electricity annually, although it was normally the tall oaks and maples that took the actual hits during summer thunderstorms.

With the roof antenna solidly in place, crowning our home like a beauty queen, my dad had only to arrange the rabbit ears just so to tune in the big four. Sounds like an easy job. However, anyone with a serious rabbit ear engineer in their family knew that the roof antenna was the easy part. Coaxing a picture and sound out of a snowy screen was the tricky part.

First, you needed patience. You had to be dedicated to the task and willing to put hours into getting the job done right. If you planned on moving the rabbit ears this way and that a few times just minutes before the big game, you were not serious about the television watching experience.

You also needed extra hands. My dad used his family. When we were really young, my mom was assigned to the "high" areas. As we grew taller, or were able to negotiate the step-stool without falling, Mom was able to retire from her duties as assistant rabbit ear engineer.

You had to have the right tools for the job. It simply was not enough to use the rabbit ears that came with the two-ton television set. In addition to the ears, you needed speaker wire, foil, wire hangers and lots of tacks.

The speaker wire, hangers and foil were all used as extensions to broaden the reach of the rabbit ears. The tacks were used to secure the extensions to the wall, ceiling or a piece of furniture once the exact placement was determined.

Determining the exact placement took time and patience. As we each grabbed an extension, Dad would give us our initial area assignments. We then had to slowly move into position. Once everyone had their extension in place, Dad would call out directional adjustments, "A little to the left. A little more. A little more. Just a bit more. No! No! Too much! Go back. Go back. RIGHT THERE! Perfect. Hold it."

When one of us had our extension perfectly placed, Dad moved on to the next, "Now, move toward your brother, but don't cross over your sister's piece. That's it. A little more. A little more. A little more. OK, go ahead and reach under your sister's left elbow. A little more. RIGHT THERE! Perfect. Hold it!"

One of us was always on tip-toes, holding the rabbit ear extension way over our head near the ceiling. One of us always "accidentally" moved, throwing off the entire effort and causing us to have to start from the beginning.

Every now and then, Dad would hold up a piece of speaker wire and ask us to report on the clarity. I called this the eye doctor maneuver. He held the wire in one place and then moved it to another while asking, "Does it look better when I hold it here? Or here? Here? Or here?"

It took the better part of a Saturday afternoon to get it right. And every time Mom and Dad decided to buy a new television or move the furniture, we had to do it all over again. But it was well worth it, because we were always able to watch television with the clarity of those living in the city as well as those who enjoyed that new fangled cable TV we'd been hearing about.

My future grandchildren will never believe what we went through to tune in a few channels as I recount their great-grandfather's efforts every time they complain about having to get up and hit the button to rescan their digital television.

Micki Bare is a columnist for the Arkansas News Bureau and the Courier-Tribune in Asheboro, N.C., and author of the book, "Relative Expressions." She lives in Asheboro with her husband and three children. Her e-mail address is mickibare@inspiredscribe.com