"You're going to trade me in for one of those new-fangled 1080p jobs, aren't you?" she would plaintively wail from time to time.
"No, no, no," we said. We tried to reassure her that a replacement was not in the budget. Besides, the DVDs looked great and we had FIOS; her picture never looked better, although the PIP was useless with the Verizon system.
Then one day the remote ceased to function at all. But that was okay because we had picked up a Universal remote that worked great with her, and we continued that way for several years.
And so it was that she struggled to keep going, determined to hold onto her staked claim in our family life, stubbornly refusing to shuffle off her mortal coils. She wouldn't turn on again for about ten minutes after being shut down, so we began leaving her on in an input mode, or unplugging her overnight.
Every time she would always return to us, at least by the next morning.
Finally one day the strain proved to be too much for her. In the end, she had weakened. And after many attempts at encouraging her to turn on, she finally gave up the ghosts. My wife came to me with the news; it was a sad day, indeed, in the Roof household.
Later that night, alone in the backyard, I buried her next to my shop.
Now I could never be sure, but I thought that I heard the sound of "Taps" being played.