Gaming
When I was eleven we visited family in the center of America. I’m not going to name the place. I have visited since that time and I have nothing positive to say about the place. Anyway, we had driven there. It was one of those “pack the kids in the car and see the country type excursions” that never seem to go the way they’re planned except that we did manage to find my uncle’s house. Once we were there and after a few fights with my cousins my mother asked me to go for a drive with her to “get away for a bit.” I went along.
My mother, may she rest in
peace, was a craft fanatic. If you’ve ever been to the
Midwest than you know that they’re all craft crazy. We were
driving along when she suddenly turned into a rather long,
ugly strip mall. With an “I want to see what they have.”
she found a parking space. It was a craft store. She know
that I wasn’t going in, so she left the keys so that I
could listen to the radio. She was out of the car and into
the store before I had my bearings.
As I was listening to the radio I was looking around and
becoming extremely bored. Down at the end of the string of
shops I noticed an “Arcade” sign. I thought about it but
not long enough to stay in the car. I was on my way to
check out the arcade. It had all the bells and whistle that
made arcades in those days. Fortunately my father always
thought that it was important to have some money in one’s
pocket. He was always handing me money with a wink and a
“It always feels good in your pocket.” He’s still doing
that. To get back to the story, I went in and found a
pinball machine that had my name on it. For the life of me
I can’t remember which machine it was- probably a Williams.
I was in my own world.
I only had two games left when my mother messed my hair
with a more stern hand than normal. For a second I thought
that she was going to yank me out of there by my locks. I
started to leave but she just put her arm around me and
told me to finish my games. She stepped in and played. We
ended up playing for a couple of hours.
On the way back to my uncle’s she asked me not to frighten
her like that. Every time I walk into an arcade I think
about her. If she were still alive I think she’d join me in
a game of pinball.
After that 1982 trip I’ve loved arcades.