OP is clearly also an eldergay, but I'll play. Much like many here, the neighbors across the street had the first one on the block. I think it was 1966 and I was 5. I was plunked down on a rug in front of the thing while the adults had their cocktails and Vienna Weenies in JellO mold or whatever. It was The WOZ. I was mesmerized. Mrs. Miller gathered a crowd of adults who rushed in to see my reaction when Dorothy woke up in colorful OZ. That blue water... if a 5-year old could orgasm...
My older siblings and the older neighbor kids were probably dropping acid over in the Haight Ashbury in The City and protesting the Vietnam War. And they wore... you know. Hippy things and they had long hair. I must have represented the last vestige of innocence among the baby boomers.
Within a year, my father got us a console color TV from Montgomery Ward, an "Airliner". Most of the shows I remember were black and white, but I got to stay up late with the grownups and watch Laugh-In, which was in brilliant, Burbank studio quasi-psychedelic color. Somehow, I got the humor and remember giggling all night. I mean, who couldn't laugh at JoAnne Whirley and Charles Nelson Reilly?! And Alan Seuss! The Wonderful World of Disney specials.
The set of Mad Men was a clone of our house. My father drank heavily and chain smoked while watching the news as I sat in his lap. I used to flush his cigs down the toilet and get slightly spanked. He'd feed me the vodka soaked onions and olives from his Martini because dinner was always late. My mom would come into the family room where the TV was and feed me the marachino cherries from her Manhattans (Old Fashions?) and then disappear into the kitchen. The clips from overseas were always black and white. Lots of helicopters and bombs and screaming people and combat, then colorful ads for laundry detergent, and then protests on the UC Berkeley campus, where three of my older siblings always hung out. My mom was a secretary there. She was always pissed at dad who'd say "he doesn't understand all this". There were men shooting water canons or hitting the Negros with sticks in "The South". Never saw that happen at my dark skinned friend's house in Oakland.
I remember the Apollo 13 landing (in Black and White). It was a beautiful day in Walnut Creek, California.
I remember riding in the back of our Ford Galaxy station wagon to the Oakland airport. Only one of my sisters was with us and she was silent. A big, ugly airplane without happy windows landed. It was important. And then I sat on my sister's lap between my mom and dad in the front seat. We went somewhere, but I was asleep. The rear seat was folded down because there was a big, long box in the rear.
I remember watching the same box for my brother Craig being put into a lawn filled with crosses the next day. I never saw Craig again and no one ever talked about it, but we later watched the same thing happen on TV, as if someone was spying on us, or people like my family. It was like we were on TV.
I regret staying up so late and posting on this thread.