Claude and Curtis ~ A True Love Story

In 1979 I married Claude; I was not his first wife. Shortly after we married I found out why he had been married before; Curtis.  Claude loved Curtis as if he was a child of his own loins and Curtis, in his own strange way, loved Claude, too. They had an unusual connection that was as strong, yet as delicate, as life itself. Curtis was a television; a Curtis Mathis in a Spanish style console, one of the first made that had a remote control. Yes, we always referred to him as ‘Curtis’ and, yes, I hated him and his stupid remote control.

When I married and moved into Claude’s home, there were flat, brown wires strung throughout the interior that eventually connected to Curtis.  I was told that I was not to touch the wires since they were the life support to Curtis. Of course, being a woman, a wife, it was my job to change my man and that included the love between him and Curtis. I was not jealous, just deeply concerned that my husband would consider a television set as a prominent part of the family! Curtis did not like me, either. No matter how many times I punched the Off button on the remote, or on the set, Curtis would not turn off. Claude would just laugh and tell me that Curtis would turn off when he was ready. Sure enough, as soon as we would go to bed and Claude would start snoring. Curtis would turn off.  I am not ashamed to admit that this scared me a little bit.

A few years after we married we planned a move to the country. Claude was very concerned about Curtis and the reception he would receive.  I was concerned about having brown wires strung all over my new home.  We made the move, only one short wire was attached to Curtis and it was not a hideous one.  Claude was extremely happy and Curtis was vibrant with color and clarity, yet, he would still not turn off until Claude began to snore.  I often wondered how the next wife would react to Curtis.

In 1989 Curtis was still a part of my family (much to my chagrin). It seemed he was there to stay, or so I thought. Toward the end of that year Claude became ill and Curtis began to lose his color and clarity. I would mention to Claude that we needed a new set and he would look at me like I was crazy; he thought I was losing my eyesight because he looked at Curtis and saw perfection. As the weeks went on Claude’s health continued to decline and Curtis became a grainy black and white picture.  I had the local television repair man out to the house and he could not believe we had such an ancient set; the world had moved into some pretty high tech stuff and Curtis was mostly tubes. He checked the set out thoroughly - one tube at a time – but could not explain the problem other than the set was just too old.  As the months moved on Claude continued to decline and so did Curtis; they weakened together. On a Saturday morning Claude went into the hospital and passed away the following Monday...so did Curtis; I lost them both on the same day.

Claude, per his wishes, was cremated and shortly thereafter I decided to cremate Curtis, too. I moved him way out into the pasture along with some dead tree limbs and other discarded, burnable items that tend to gather in the country. The children and I planned a bonfire and invited a couple of the neighborhood kids over to watch and roast a few marshmallows.

As God is my witness, I did not know that you are not supposed to burn television sets or that tubes should not have excessive heat applied to them.  When Curtis blew, one adult and four kids simultaneously wet their pants and dropped their marshmallows! Tiny chards of Curtis’ picture tube were lofted into the air; propelled by the heat of the fire, sparkling and showering us with the most brilliant light show anyone could possibly imagine. Time seemed to stand still as the lights danced upward into heaven.  Curtis had been set free and gave us the best picture show of his life  Small shards of him remain scattered throughout the pasture and, sometimes, when I mow, if the light is just right, he winks at me.

My life with Claude had its ups and downs and my life with Curtis existed mostly out of frustration; but I did learn two very important things from our lives together. One is that it is possible for a man and an object, such as a television set, to form a very strong bond. The other is that no matter what anyone may tell you; if you love something enough, when you die it IS possible to take it with you.