I was so excited the first time I was considered old enough
to adjust the television antenna.

I ran out the door to the side of the house
and began swiveling the metal pole,
watching the feelers at the top move back and forth.

My brother stood at the door,
my sister by the television set.
We called out to each other,
tracking the progress.

I was told which way to turn the heavy pipe
and when to stop.
When the picture cleared,
we could get back to our program.

We waited until commercials to fix the fuzz.
A good windstorm meant work.