A few months before I was born, my Dad met a stranger who was new to our small town. From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer and soon invited him to live with our family. The stranger was quickly accepted and was around to welcome me into the world a few months later. As I grew up, I never questioned his place in my family. In my young mind, he had a special position. My parents were complementary instructors:Mom taught me the words, and Dad taught me to obey them. But the stranger... He was our storyteller. He would keep us _ for hours on end with adventures, mysteries and comedies . If I wanted to know anything about politics,history or science,he always knew the answers about the past, understood the present and even seemed able to predict the future! He made me laugh, and he made me cry. The stranger never stopped talking, but Dad didn't seem to mind. I now know that my early concepts about relationship were influenced strongly by the stranger. Time after time, he opposed the values of my parents, yet he was seldom blamed...and NEVER asked to leave. More than fifty years have passed since the stranger moved in with our family. He has blended  right in but is not nearly as fascinating as he was at first. Still, if you were to walk into my parent's room today, you would still find him sitting over in his corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures. His name? We just call him..."TV". He has a younger sister now. We call her "Computer". When the stranger came to live with our family, he was   _  .
ignored by the children driven away for no reason abandoned because it was too noisy accepted by every family member