Tom, I can’t watch TV anymore; I just don’t have time. Even with 500 channels there is still little worth watching. I raised my son without TV because I refused to allow television to dictate morality in my home, under the guise of being a babysitter. Actually, those lessor morals are the ones taught by the media. The morality I believe to be timeless has been here long before television.

I espouse romance, trust and faithfulness, and the deep love held by two friends who met as 5-year old playmates in their neighborhood. They grew up together, attended church, grade school and high school together, graduated together, were married and lived happily, faithful to each into their nineties. For almost 90 years, they were inseparable. Their final days were spent in the hospital, he on one floor, she on the level below. In the night she passed; 8-hours later he was also gone. I held his hand. Interesting that his illness was not life-threatening. When I think of those two, I often remember this quote, "If you should die before me, please ask if you can bring a friend." What a tremendous example to others. Tom, that is the depth of love each one of us wishes; the only thing preventing that is selfishness and infidelity.

The magnificence of these priceless relationships can never be cheapened by the contrived research of some sogannant social scientist, or with shrill claims by those who marginalize the greatest gift men and women have been given; a rich and happy life together. Love will always survive, while blustering fools, still making their silly noises, die miserable and all alone.

Tom, my experience is not from TV; I am privileged to see this first person, real couples all describing the precious knowledge of unconditional love and faithfulness to each other. I know for certain, those who selfishly serve animalistic compulsions and temporary desires, pay an enormous price. I have observed this anguish right here on this site. So I must repeat, there is no splendor in fickleness and betrayal, only shame and eventual emptiness. In betrayal, all lose; just maybe not immediately.