What is it about books that have me hooked?
For starters, I can cite several (change that to many) books that have nudged me, pushed me (reluctantly), poked at me, even waited for me, until I got it right — got right my direction, got right my course. If you make books your religion, the right one will jump off the shelf and into your hands ABSOLUTELY EVERY TIME. I promise. If you are faithful to books, they will be faithful back. That doesn’t mean you have to read them cover to cover even. Sometimes a book falls open to the right page — a quote that stays with you, an idea that won’t go away, an author’s acknowledgement page (a blueprint for creating community?), a whim that sets in, a desire that takes hold. Once in a while, a mere title does the trick — “You Can Go Home Again,” “Hope Dies Last.”

Is it easy to put down a book that just isn’t right? Way easy. The addiction process just doesn’t seem to set in or apply. Your eyes close lickety-split and down the book goes, onto the floor, back to the library.

Two months ago, the women who run our local University Inn (swimming pool, conference center, restaurant, quiet bar) treated my husband and me to a complimentary stay in one of their executive suites. The reason for their generosity? They’d heard that I lived without a TV, having raised my now-grown children without a telly, reading books instead, and that I’d never even seen an Oprah or Martha Stewart show.

They decided it was time I knew the score of all things TV. When we arrived, we found fresh flowers, a basket of chocolate, wine and a note, “Enjoy your night off.” Once I figured out the remote, my night off disappeared like an addict’s promise to refrain.

The first thing that grabbed me was the ads. They were clever. They were funny. They went deep. I started wanting things.

And good grief. When was the last time I laid out 50-plus books in my bedroom, skipping through them back and forth, shut and open, open and then shut, like a maniac all night? Trust me, a remote is strange when it’s your first time. It’s overload in a “can’t stop, one more time” kind of way. Like being left alone with a bag of potato chips, I couldn’t stop.

There were two beds. Around 11 p.m., my husband wandered off, pulling the room divider shut behind him. At that point, I checked out the movies.

I love a good movie. For about 12 years, every time I wanted my family to watch a movie, I rented a TV and VCR. I just couldn’t afford the temptation of owning a TV.

When you’re raising children, a movie can be a family event full of pomp and popcorn, story and style, not to mention a safe place (still) away from ads. Movies bring us talented directors like Ron Howard, who move us forward in a positive fashion, one movie at a time. Movies can be good at creating community. In small towns everywhere, people are reviving and remodeling downtown movie theatres, offering both the real thing — community plays ­­— in addition to the usual big screen, as in Hollywood, entertainment. Some revived theatres are offering “real thing” popcorn and fruit drinks for sale.

For my TV night, I watched the movie “Pay it Forward,” followed by a good cry. Next, I paid to watch Reese Witherspoon in “Legally Blonde.” At one point, I laughed so hard I threw my hand over onto the remote, accidentally shutting the movie off. I had to call the front desk to get it started again. After that, I went back to channeling. At 6 a.m., I finally shut it down.

The next morning (two hours later!), I felt strangely different. My husband offered, “It might just be lack of sleep, or the wine and chocolate.” “No, it’s TV brain,” I countered. I felt as if I’d been on some sort of life support and now I had amnesia. I was changed somehow. Really. For about six hours, I couldn’t go back to who I was before. I was going through the motions of my life (feeding chickens, stoking the fire), only to find myself talking to the characters I’d just seen about a thing or two. I knew them now, but not really — a right brain/left brain sort of squabble. “Silly me, they’re just movie stars playing a part.” I felt discombobulated.

I have to wonder, what would happen, who would I be, become, if I watched TV regularly? Not to mention letting mind-molding ads become me!

Somehow (cross your fingers), books remain ad-free, a sanctuary, a place of escape, a way away from “needing it all.”

Even images of violence in a book lack the sticking power of moving pictures. A book stays a book somehow. Visually, you invent your own characters. But TV does it for you. Movie stars become gun-and-knife-wielding monsters, too real. In a book, the adrenaline loads are less, glandular responses minimal. Seeing bodily harm and reading about it are two distinctly different responses.

Here’s the other thing. TV is a time thief. Even if you’re discerning, TV time robs you of some other thing — a walk, a dinner discussion, maybe even your innocence. That’s a big deal, innocence — not to be taken or given lightly.

How about all the “how-to” shows these days? Are they indispensable? Somehow, I’ve learned to build a house, plumb a bathroom, stitch a suit, knit a sweater, raise a child, rebuild a motor, grow a tree and more without ever turning one on. I honestly don’t think I could have accomplished all that I have if I had let TV teach me. This isn’t just a function of time spent. It seems to me it’s a function of time spent carrying around the weight of the world, the dark side, the TV side of things. Can our world be better? Can I make it better? Why bother? Guarding your innocence just might be the answer, the key to it all.

So far, libraries and bookstores and now the Internet answer any how-to questions I dream up. And there’s always a neighbor, relative or friend I can turn to. From my computer, I can browse a library’s catalog. If I find a title I want, I can place a hold online. Through a library’s website, I can access thousands of full-text articles. And if they don’t have what I want, they’ll either order it or borrow it for me from another library. Most libraries have thousands of DVDs and videocassettes. And when I have to spend time in a car, I can accomplish two things at once. Libraries have thousands of books on tape.

Where am I going with all this? Well, I’m in a quandary. It seems I’m wanted on TV. With how-to shows the rage these days, I’m being asked to step up to the plate, step up to the camera.

Most days I say “no” to the proposals coming my way. And just when I’m feeling sure, a trusted dear friend will say, “Don’t be so opposed; you’ll be able to reach a lot more people with your organic ideas." (Ideas are everything to me. That’s the wondrous part of being human, the spreading and sharing of ideas.) So, I need your ideas and feedback, organic or otherwise. Should I or shouldn’t I? Are the Farm Life books I’m writing and this magazine enough? TV or not TV? How about Public Television? Let me know what you think!

If you’re a visual learner, my farm crew and I are thinking we can produce how-to computer DVDs. What would you think if we offered DVDs on how to knit, buy a farm, mend a doily, chop wood, reupholster a couch, make cheese, etc.?