I grew up when color televisions were the new thing. My father was a salesman, and one year he won a new color television set as a reward for his performance at work. He unpacked his prize with excitement. Here was a big box that sat on mid century modern angled legs. I loved it from the beginning.
Of course, everything on the magical box was not in color. Many films that aired were still black and white.. One night, I was watching “The Wizard of Oz,” a film I had seen many times. There was poor Dorothy singing her heart out for a place over a rainbow. I thought I knew every detail of this story, but then Dorothy opened the door of her tiny home, and the land of Oz revealed itself in all its unexpected colorful splendor. I was overcome with wonder! Is this what had actually been on the other side of this door all these years? How glorious this discovery was! I was filled with renewed interest as each image, each character suddenly took on a new dimension. How wonderful to follow the now brightly colored yellow brick road along with Dorothy and her companions!
Even to this day, this film reminds of the wonder I felt when I first saw it in color. It’s a small thing, and yet, it isn’t. It is often the small things that fill us with wonder and force us to stop in our tracks. Why do we assume that wonder always comes in large, glitzy packages? What, I wonder, would be the surprise in that?