14
Jul

Four Weeks And Forever Counting

   Posted by: Michael Bernier   in Today's Reality

Yesterday marked four weeks since my son passed away. It’s difficult to comprehend so much time has already gone by, but indeed it has. I returned to work full-time two weeks ago, and have been running through a fairly normal schedule of activities; my managers, however, appear to have been giving me some leeway and not pressuring me for a lot of things. I am grateful for their concern and compassion.

The last condolence cards I’ve seen came in last week, and my wife and I have begun sending out thank-you notes. There were about 50 different cards and letters to come in, some with very touching messages that made us both tear up as we read them. Two of them were from parents who had also lost teenage sons, one of those being the first to drown in the same lake. Others were from people we have never met, but who heard the news and reached out to offer their hearts and to share our grief.

During these weeks, there hasn’t been a single waking minute in which I haven’t thought about my son. I think about all the things we did together, and all the things I wished we had done; sometimes, it feels like there are more sad memories than happy ones. As I wander through my thoughts, I wonder if he ever realized how proud I was of him and all of his accomplishments… if he did, he surely didn’t let on that he knew. He was always pushing himself to do better at everything, whether it was playing his trumpet, assembling a project for school, or working with his 4-H goats. He had worked very hard to become a section leader in the school band, and after he was selected he still didn’t let up. He even pushed himself to organize the pizza party at the lake that fateful day, settling for nothing less than putting it all together by himself.

He had set some very lofty goals for himself – he wanted to be class valedictorian; he planned to go to an Ivy League school; and he wanted to work in government somewhere, perhaps even serving in an elected office one day. Although we will never truly know, I am quite certain he would have done well in anything he had set his mind to do.

The weeks will continue to pass, and with each we will move a little further down the road. The pain we feel today will slowly fade with the passage of time, but the thoughts and memories will never end.

8
Jul

Sibling Parity, Final Take

   Posted by: Michael Bernier   in Today's Reality

I have related in several earlier postings the constant back-and-forth competition between my two sons and their computers. The latest round in the battle occurred around Memorial Day, when I was finally able to purchase the pieces I needed to make the older son’s machine as capable of playing games as the younger son’s. Both of the boys were thrilled to be able to play games equally well, and at long last I had achieved balance in the universe.

Little did I know it would be the last competition between them.

Two weeks later, on June 15th, my older son was hosting a party for his marching band section at a local lake. Without going through a lot of detail (I will do that in the future), there was an accident on the lake and he drowned. The funeral was held four days later, with many of his friends and classmates and their families attending.

It has been three weeks since my son’s death, and even though his younger brother is in the house all day long it still feels eerily quiet. He has been spending these hot summer days alternating between watching TV shows and spending time on his computer. He hasn’t been playing his games as much, opting instead to read online or listen to music…the same music my older son used to play on his computer and MP3 player. He doesn’t talk about his brother very much, mostly when my wife or I mention him in conversation. He reminds me a lot of how I used to be when I was younger…not letting on about how much I was hurting inside. I wish I could get him to talk about it more, but it’s difficult to do when you’re also trying to come to terms with the same loss.

Some of my older son’s friends and classmates have tried reaching out to him, both by phone and online through Facebook, and he seems to be responding to them; perhaps I can try getting them to spend more time with him and maybe it will help him open up more. I plan to contact a couple of their parents to see if they can help out as well.

Unfortunately, even with all of their help I will never be able to restore that delicate balance ever again.

14
Jun

I Could Be Their Next Winner!

   Posted by: Michael Bernier   in Today's Reality, Yesterday's Memories

Do you ever enter sweepstakes or contests? You know, the kind where you have a one-in-ten-zillion chance of winning but you do it anyway?

In my after-college years before the Internet became a part of daily life, I used to get tons of junk mail in my mailbox, mostly from companies that were trying to give away something, whether it was cash or some piece of merchandise – cars, boats, vacation trips, and electronics were the most popular items. All you had to do was fill out their forms and mail them back in, and “you could be the next winner!”

What is lost on a lot of people is the fact that these companies are not in the business of giving things away for nothing. There’s always a catch somewhere, whether it’s to get you on their mailing list (which they often sell to someone else), or they have a particular product they want you to buy. Case in point: perhaps the most infamous giveaways of all are the ones from Publisher’s Clearing House, or PCH as some like to call them. This part gets lost in all the advertising they mail out by the ton, but PCH is actually in the business of selling magazine subscriptions. Back in those pre-Internet days I used to subscribe to several magazines, and found PCH often offered them at very good discounts. It seemed like a good fit for me at the time, and as long as I didn’t stray away from that group of magazines, I could enter their contests and everything worked out okay. Once I got married, family life took the place of magazines, and one by one I let them all lapse. Of course, the mail didn’t stop; once you’re on their mailing lists, you pretty much have to die to get off of them…and even then it’s not certain. For a couple of years after my dad died in 1988, we continued to get contest mailers addressed to him.

These days these contests have mostly moved online, but their purposes haven’t changed. The companies are still trying to sell products, and use the contests to bring in potential new customers.

After many years of avoiding all the contests and sweeps, both in the mail and online, I finally succumbed a couple of months ago when the prizes were too good for me personally to pass up. I’ve mentioned in earlier posts that I like to collect wristwatches, and I’ve found two online stores that offer weekly contests to give away a free watch. All I have to do is re-register on their site each week, which puts me on their e-mail list to receive their advertising and special offers (something I was already doing anyway). That’s not as bad as having a mailbox filled with paper that gets thrown in the trash; and, if need be, I can simply delete the e-mails as they come in.

I haven’t won a free watch yet, but who knows? There’s always the chance that “I could be their next winner!”

11
Jun

Garden Tractor 4, Me 1 — But I Still Win!

   Posted by: Michael Bernier   in Today's Reality

Throughout the history of individual home ownership and maintenance, there is one never-ending conflict that tests the mettle of every homeowner – mowing the grass. For most folks who live in a subdivision or other such ‘burb, this usually means getting out with a push mower and spending an hour or less tidying up their postage-stamp-sized front yard. In the countryside where I live, we measure and mow our grass by the acre. Between the yard next to my house, the area around my barn, and the spaces in between, I estimate that I have between two and three acres to mow every other week. There’s no way a person with a push mower could do all that here in Texas and not collapse from heatstroke. So, what’s the solution? A riding mower, of course!

These days, zero-turn mowers are all the rage. These are the mowers that the professional landscapers use; they are highly maneuverable, and with their wide mower decks can make short work of a large acreage like mine. Unfortunately, I don’t have one of those mowers; we bought ours back in 2001, before the zero-turns were being offered to the general public. Our mower is a more “conventional” style known as a garden tractor. The difference between it and a regular riding mower is that the garden tractor is capable of doing light tractor work such as tilling a garden or pulling a box blade to level the soil. However, its first job is to mow grass, and in that capacity this tractor has lived up to the expectations we had for it. With regular maintenance, replacing blades and belts and so forth, it has served us well for the past nine years.

That is, until this week.

While cutting an area near our barn last Saturday, the mower clogged up with grass and I had to stop and clear it. Usually I leave the engine running while I do this, but when I found the clogging was going to take a while to clear I turned it off. After I finished clearing it, I hopped back into the driver’s seat and turned the key to start the engine up again.

Click…no engine starting.

Check all the switches to make sure they are set properly, then try it again.

Click…still no engine starting.

Hop off the mower, open the front hood, and check all the electrical connections. They all look tight, so get back on and try it again.

Silence this time…not even a click.

“Great, just great,” I thought. “Here I am only halfway through my mowing and now I can’t start the engine.” So, I stopped trying to turn the switch over and over, and began looking at all the possible points of failure. I found three – the keyswitch, the battery, and the start solenoid. The most obvious thing was the battery; it was four years old, and has been through a lot of wear and tear mowing this huge space…maybe it just needed to be charged up? So, I got my tools, pulled the battery, and put it on a charger. When the charger said it was done, I put it back in the tractor and turned the switch.

Silence. Score one for the tractor.

Okay, the next point was the keyswitch. It was original to the tractor, and was pretty well worn on the outside. Maybe it was finally worn out on the inside as well and wasn’t making contact any more. So, off to the store I went to purchase a replacement. I picked one up, brought it home, popped the old switch out, popped the new one in, and turned the switch.

Silence. Score another one for the tractor.

“Okay,” I said, “I replaced the start solenoid a few years back when the original failed, so perhaps something has gone bad in this one too.” I didn’t have a chance to go back to the store that day, so it had to wait until Sunday afternoon.

Sunday rolled in. I went to the store and picked up a new start solenoid. Brought it home, got my tools, disconnected and removed the old one, installed and connected the new one, and turned the switch.

Silence. The score’s now three for the tractor and zero for me.

I started to get a little nervous. The mower wasn’t showing any signs whatsoever that it was even getting power to the starter (there’s a gauge on the dash that is supposed to move when you turn the key, and it wasn’t moving). I had to go off and think about this one for a while.

That “while” led me to Wednesday afternoon, when I decided to pull the battery and try charging it once again. Unlike the previous time, this charging cycle didn’t end; it just kept going and going. Maybe the battery had gone bad after all? I loaded it up in my truck, headed to the store, and traded it in on a new one. Brought it home, installed it, and turned the switch.

Silence. Now it’s four to nothing.

At this point I was totally demoralized and lost for an explanation. I began to check every wire I could find, tracing lines from the switch to the solenoid to the starter and back again. Nothing seemed broken or out of place. Then I started tracing other wires, and found one buried deep under the steering column with a strange connector on the end of it. I wiped the grime off it, and found it was really a fuse holder with a 30-amp blade fuse in it.

“Since when did they start putting fuses on garden tractors?” I asked. I pulled the fuse out, took one look, and saw that it had blown. Could all of this trouble have been caused by a 25-cent fuse?  I went back to my truck to see if I had a spare, but didn’t. It was getting dark, so I decided to wait and pick up new fuses the next morning.

Which brings this story up to yesterday. I finally got to the store, picked up a package of 30-amp fuses (so I’d have a few extras), got home, installed a new fuse, and turned the switch.

Bingo! The engine started like it was brand new (and well it should, given all the new parts I’d just installed). Score one for me!

I took the tractor up to the house and parked it so I could look it over and make it ready to go back out and mow again. My work will be cut out for me, with an extra week’s growth to deal with over half the yard.

So, now I know what I’ll be doing this weekend. How about you?

7
Jun

A “Gripping” Adventure

   Posted by: Michael Bernier   in Today's Reality

Over the weekend, I proved to myself that I haven’t become “all thumbs” when it comes to fixing things. You may recall my earlier postings concerning all the tit-for-tat upgrades I’ve been making to my two sons’ computers, and all the troubles I’ve had with getting things right so that peace and order are maintained in my universe. After a long struggle, I think I’ve reached that point…for now. This time around, the “fixing” involved one of my own gadgets.

My 35mm film camera, the one I used to take all the photos I’ve been posting, is 17 years old. It’s still a very serviceable camera, and takes great pictures. However, it has developed one “cosmetic” problem in the last few years: the rubberized coating on its handgrip has deteriorated and become very sticky; when holding the camera, the grip “sticks” to my hand and is very uncomfortable.

I wondered if the manufacturer could still service the camera and replace the coating, so I called their customer service department on Thursday and talked with a representative. They no longer provide factory service for it, but they do have a list of independent service centers that could possibly do the work. I was given the name and number for the one closest to me (“close” is a relative term; they are actually six hours away). I called them and talked with one of their techs, and he understood exactly what I was explaining – considering how rare that seems to be these days, it felt very refreshing! He told me that the entire handgrip would need to be replaced, and said I could either send the camera to him to do the work, or he could send the part to me and do it myself.

“It’s easy,” the tech said. “You just remove the bottom plate and the front cover, and the grip comes right out.”

I agreed, so I gave him my address and payment information and he shipped the part out. I received it on Saturday, and it did indeed look like it would be an easy item to replace…once I got the front of the camera off. There’s where my first problem came up – I didn’t have a screwdriver tiny enough to remove all of the screws in the bottom plate. I had to make a run out to buy one; but, of course, no one sells just one…I ended up getting an entire set of electronics screwdrivers. Now, not only can I take my camera apart, but also just about any piece of electronics that has tiny screws holding it together.

Finally, with tools and spare part in hand, I sat down with the camera and started to work. Six screws out of the bottom plate, and the plate popped off. A couple more screws on a side bracket, then three more on the front cover, and it lifted right out as well. The next problem turned out to be the handgrip itself; after some searching, I discovered there were two screws inside it (inside a compartment that also holds the battery) that needed to come out. Once those were done, the old grip easily separated from the camera. I reversed the process to install the new part, and a few minutes later I was finished. No missing pieces, and nothing left over – looked like a success to me!

I picked up the camera and looked at it. From the front, it looked once again like it did when I purchased it back in 1993. I held it using the new handgrip and I played around with it for a few minutes, holding it in different positions and pretending to shoot. It felt very comfortable, as it used to be years ago when it was new – felt like a success to me!

The final test, of course, is to take it out and run a roll of film through it to make sure I didn’t damage something else in the process of replacing that part. I believe it will be okay, making my first camera repair a complete success. I’ll be sure to post a few pictures later.

Please don’t be getting any ideas – just because I fixed my own camera doesn’t mean I can fix anyone else’s…unless it’s exactly the same problem on exactly the same model – and I’m not telling you what that is!

4
Jun

A Day At The Zoo

   Posted by: Michael Bernier   in Today's Reality

Last Sunday afternoon, my wife and I did something we haven’t done in several years – we went to the zoo.

The city of Gainesville, Texas is home to the Frank Buck Zoo, a small facility next door to a large city park just south of the city center. It is named after Frank Buck, a Gainesville native who specialized in collecting wild animals from Africa and putting them on display in zoos and in his own traveling stage show. His catchphrase was “bring ‘em back alive”, which at the time was in sharp contrast to the usual practice of Westerners traveling on safari and killing what they hunted to decorate their walls back home.

Once again, we grabbed my cameras to take a few pictures – my wife with the digital, and me with my trusty 35mm. We entered the park and were greeted by a huge carving depicting several of the animals species that are on display.

Following the carving was the first enclosure, which housed … wait for it … pink flamingoes!

The zoo has changed dramatically since we first visited it almost ten years ago. Back then admission was free and the number of animals on display was very small, consisting mostly of species native to the region such as owls, coyotes, bison, raccoons, roadrunners (yes, they really do exist), and bears. There was a petting area for the kids to visit and interact with goats, sheep, cows, and pigs, as well as a few exotics such as tamarinds and lemurs.

Since then the park has grown to several times its old size, charges a modest admission fee, and includes a large African Savannah enclosure housing zebras, antelopes, ostriches, and the showpiece of the park, a pair of giraffes.

A large elevated walkway was constructed across the savannah partly to give visitors a bird’s eye view of the animals in the enclosure, and partly to allow the giraffes to move from one side to the other without too much difficulty.

The zebras had a young foal scampering about with them.

The giraffes and ostriches, meanwhile, were taking advantage of the tall shaded feeding station to get out of the sun, which made the park extremely hot that afternoon.

Next door to the African exhibit was a small area representing Australia and housing their most famous native species, the red kangaroo. The zebras weren’t the only ones who had a new baby this spring; I caught a view of a female ‘roo with a joey in her pouch.

As I mentioned earlier, it was a very hot day. When we finished our tour and returned to the entrance, my wife couldn’t resist stopping in the gift shop and picking up an ice cream bar.

All in all, it was a very pleasant – if hot – day to go to the zoo. I’m not sure when we might return, and there’s no telling what will change between now and then!

31
May

Does Summer Have To Wait Until Memorial Day?

   Posted by: Michael Bernier   in Today's Reality

Today is Memorial Day, the holiday where we remember and honor those who have served in the armed forces of our country and made the ultimate sacrifice. I don’t know about you, but I tend to choke up and get teary-eyed when I think about how those soldiers, sailors, and airmen gave their lives to defend the liberty and freedoms we so often take for granted. I give grateful and humble thanks to those families who have lost loved ones.

Many towns across America have parades in which bands play patriotic tunes, and local veterans dress in their uniforms and march down the parade route or ride in vintage military vehicles. My older son marched with his high school band in our town’s parade today, just as his sister did in years past, and next year his younger brother will join him (he’ll be an upcoming freshmen, and they are required to participate in the parade).

Many families get together and celebrate the day, usually with a cookout. Our family is no exception; the dinner menu today is grilled hamburgers, hot dogs, and bratwursts with all the trimmings, as well as baked beans and potato salad. I’m the one who works the grill, as most of the husbands/fathers do for cookouts, and usually I prepare much more than we can eat at one sitting. Our plan for tomorrow’s dinner is to simply have today’s leftovers, and we’ll pick at the rest of it for the remainder of the coming week. Nothing will be wasted; our sons will see to that!

Another significance of today is that (at least here in the U.S.) it marks the unofficial start of the summer season. Temperatures starting in late May are typically warming up to summer levels, which for our area means highs in the 90s and lows in the 70s. This year, though, we’ve had those temperatures with us for almost the entire month of May. We could have declared the start of summer three weeks ago! I’m sure the same could be said for the end of summer as well; it’s usually very warm here on Labor Day in September, and we could probably have another two or three weeks of summer after that before the temperatures start to cool down. When you add those up, that’s an extra month and a half of summer! It sounds great at first, but I’m not sure everyone would be happy with a longer summer. Would you?

I don’t think I would mind. It would give us more time for having summer cookouts!

28
May

Feelings Of Loss

   Posted by: Michael Bernier   in Today's Reality

We’ve always had dogs as a part of our family. My wife had a small house dog when we were first married, and over the years we’ve had several others come in an go out of our lives. Earlier this spring, we were compelled to send all of our Great Pyrenees dogs away to other homes (one of them had attacked a neighbor’s dog and almost ripped its ear off; the choices we had were to restrain our dogs or send them away, and anyone who has owned a Pyr will tell you that restraining them is almost impossible). That left us with our one house dog, a 9-year-old blue merle collie named Duke. We got him as a puppy the summer after we moved from Georgia to Texas, and unlike most collies he was not quite the brightest star in the sky. We knew he wasn’t the pick of the litter, but he was loved and accepted by all of us just the same.

Almost two weeks ago, Duke went to the vet for his monthly allergy shot (this dog has had a problem with allergies that’s been so bad he’d scratch and chew all the hair off his backside). He seemed okay after the shot, but during the following week he started having problems, first with eating and then with drinking water. He would eat his food as always, but sometimes it didn’t stay down for very long and next thing we knew we were cleaning up a mess somewhere in the house (usually on one of our carpets). The vet offered the suggestion that he was dealing with a stomach bug of some type, and to give him Kaopectate to settle his stomach and help him keep his food down. That didn’t work, and the random messes continued. Then this past Monday we noticed he wasn’t drinking as much water as usual (normally he’d go through as much as a half gallon at a time). By Tuesday morning he had stopped drinking and eating altogether, and also didn’t want to get up and walk around, even to go outside (which he has always loved to do).

My wife took Duke back to the vet that morning and they did some blood work. The news wasn’t good – his kidneys were failing. They pushed IV fluids into him for most of the day to see if it would help, but he didn’t seem to be improving. They kept him overnight and told us to check back in the morning. After a fitful night for us, we called the next morning and he was still no better. A couple of hours later, we got the news we had been dreading – Duke had died.

My wife was in tears, and I was simply stunned. He had gone downhill so quickly…just 11 days after a routine visit and all was well, and now he was dead. The vet asked us what we wanted to do with the body. I’m usually able to step in and deal with situations like this, having had other animals that have died on our ranch over the years, but this is one time I simply couldn’t do it…I couldn’t muster the courage within myself to go there and bring his cold and lifeless body back to bury him. We took the vet’s suggestion and had them cremate him. At least that way, we could remember him as he was and not as he had become.

My thoughts turned to our children; they had literally grown up together with Duke. I sent a text message to our daughter in San Antonio to break the news to her, and we told the boys when they got home from school. We were all hurting from the loss, but I surmised that it would hit the two older children harder because they had been able to play and spend more time with him than their younger brother had (Duke also liked to sleep in our daughter’s bedroom at night, and we liked to say that he was “her” dog). My wife talked about it over the phone with our daughter, the first time either of us had heard from her in several weeks; meanwhile, our older son asked about the body, and I explained what the vet was doing with it. I think he was somewhat disappointed that we weren’t going to bury him ourselves, and equally bummed out because Duke was “the last dog”.

As for our youngest son, he was generally quiet about the whole situation; much like me at that age, he looks at the world with an analytical eye and tends to keep his emotions to himself. His heart seems to be more attuned to the great cycle of life as well, possibly from having tried to maintain an aquarium in his room for several years and experiencing a sometimes regular loss of fish in the process.

It’s been a couple of days since this tragic event, and the pain is still very fresh on our minds. My wife and I are trying to look ahead through the pain and decide whether or not to get another dog. If we do, it would most likely be an adult so it can get out and play with the boys right away, rather than a puppy they would have to wait on to grow up (after all, our older son will be with us for only two more years before he heads off to college). I think we will, but it’s still too early to make that sort of decision. We need some time to mourn, and to heal a little, before we take that next step. Hopefully the long Memorial Day weekend ahead will give that process a chance to start rolling.

Needless to say, this isn’t the best way to end a week. Rest in peace, Duke.

24
May

Musical Children

   Posted by: Michael Bernier   in Today's Reality

Our local middle school bands held their Spring Concert this evening. It was a great show, filled with wonderful music and performances by a lot of really talented kids.

I was blessed to be given three musically gifted children. All of them have played in the school bands – my daughter on the clarinet, my older son on the trumpet, and my younger son on the saxophone. They have all done very well; the two older ones stepped into positions as section leaders in the high school marching band, while the youngest is first chair in the middle school’s top band, the Wind Ensemble (if you or your child have been in band, you’ll understand everything I just said; if not, all you have to really understand is that it’s all good news). My wife and I have received many glowing reports from the band directors over the years, and each of our kids has shown improved skills with each passing year (my daughter even started playing in her college band, but dropped out due to her class workload).

Where did all this musical talent come from? It certainly wasn’t from me; I can’t play any instrument more complicated than a triangle, and it’s highly likely I wouldn’t even get that right. I’m sure it all came from my wife; she played the clarinet in her school band. In fact, she still had her old clarinets when our daughter went into band; so, getting her started was pretty much a no-brainer…we took one of the horns down to the local music shop for a quick checkup, and she was all set. It was a little more difficult to get the boys started on their instruments; we got the trumpet on the rent-to-buy plan, and found a used saxophone in a local pawn shop (as it turned out, the salesman happened to have played in the same school band, and he helped with picking out the right one for my son to use).

Not a day seems to go by in my house without some sort of music playing, whether it’s selections from an online band music library, to someone practicing their music pieces, to listening to music and trying to pick out the instruments used. Sometimes my older son will play the same piece of music over and over again for seemingly hours at a time, to the point when it becomes obnoxious to my ears. But, I let him continue; that’s his way of learning right now – simple repetition – and I’m sure it will change as he grows older.

Will any of them continue to play after they leave school? That’s a tough question to answer. When my daughter left school earlier this year, her clarinet was among the things she sent home. Both of the boys are very enthusiastic about playing, so it’s possible one or both of them may continue. I hope they will consider it, if for nothing more than their own personal benefit, like having a hobby. Perhaps in doing so they can bring out more of their creative abilities, which is something I am just now re-learning how to do with the help of several friends in our writer’s group (follow the “Shared Words” link on this blog to visit our group and read some of our writings).

One thing is certain: my house will be a lot quieter once my children have all moved on. I might have to get out my triangle and start practicing again…

21
May

Pac-Man Is 30, And I Still Can’t Play It

   Posted by: Michael Bernier   in Yesterday's Memories

The video game Pac-Man celebrated its 30th anniversary today. Do you remember the game? It’s the one where you move your character (the Pac-Man) through a maze of dots, trying to accumulate points by “eating” them all without getting caught by one of four ghosts chasing you (named Inky, Pinky, Blinky, and Clyde). You could turn the tables on the ghosts by eating one of four “power pills” placed at each corner of the maze, which allowed you to chase down and catch each ghost for extra points. If you cleared the maze of dots you would move on to the next level, where the ghosts were faster and it was harder to keep away from them. This continued until you lost all three of your “lives” and the game ended.

Pac-Man may seem too simple in this age of the PlayStation, Wii, Xbox, and MMORPGs like World of Warcraft, but back in 1980 it was a state-of-the-art game. People of all ages would line up for a chance to play it, crowding around the screen to watch as someone else played. It was really big news when someone learned the best way to move around the maze to clear it and accumulate the most points. I tried it a few times, but only enough to determine I was not very good at playing video games, and from then on I usually stayed to one side and watched others as they played.

Over the ensuing years, video games evolved into more sophisticated packages with higher resolution graphics, orchestrated soundtracks, and elaborate storylines. I would periodically give them a try, just to see if I could handle the new games any better than the previous generation. In some cases I was able to do fairly well at the beginner levels, but most of the time I was usually dispatched fairly quickly, sparing onlookers from having to watch me die a slow and lingering “death” at the hands of the game console. My curiosity thusly satisfied, I would then hand the controls to someone else to play for several hours while I watched or moved on to something else.

(Google honored this anniversary by changing the logo on their website into a working Pac-Man game anyone could play for free. I tried it a couple of times, and I still died off quickly. Some things never change…)

I know that with practice I would likely get better at playing video games, but it’s never been something I’ve had a strong desire to do. I’ve sometimes wondered why that is. I may never really know the answer to that, but my guess is that it had a little to do with being somewhat clumsy back in elementary school, which isn’t a good thing when you’re trying to play a game such as softball. After enough times of being picked last for a team, of never getting a hit, and of missing enough balls hit my way, discouragement set in. Eventually I learned it was easier to simply do something else rather than go through the ordeal. The desire to play was gradually driven out of me, through no fault of anyone else, and by the time I reached college the word “play” was not part of my regular vocabulary.

To this day, I have difficulty in playing any sort of game. I actually had to teach myself how to play all over again when my children were younger so that I could be more active in their lives; but, video games is an area where they have always outstripped my abilities, and I’ve had to stand to the side once again as they make a modern first-person-shooter look all too easy.

Is this something I regret? Sometimes.

I wonder how different my life would have been if I had played more while growing up, or if I had been able to play with my children more. I usually don’t dwell on it for very long; nowadays, I’m usually called upon to fix a problem with a game when it stops playing, rather than being invited to play. I’m okay with that; there’s less of a chance of suffering a slow and lingering “death” that way.