We did not have video games. I was a city kid; we played baseball in front of my house. The intersection provided our asphalt infield and the opposing street corners contained our bases. Intense arguments arose about the safety of most base runners. Eddie, the lawyer’s son, usually ended our debates in a commanding manner so the game could continue.
On off days we went up two blocks to the Carrolton Cemetery. The tombs were raised above the swampy New Orleans water table, providing a child size village, neatly laid out in grids with miniature “streets” mostly made of chalky crushed white sea shells. The only grass in our playground came up unwanted through cracks in the concrete. Grey and green lichen added texture to the family names etched in the front of tombs, and glass jars, often filled with wilted flowers and decaying brown vegetable matter, sat watch beneath the names.
Here we re-enacted battle scenes from World War Two, our combat de jour, less than ten years over. The sounds of “I shot you first.” “No, I got you first,” filled the air as we argued over who really fired the first shot in our games and who really died. Unlike baseball, we usually didn’t stop to resolve the questions but just started our game over again. My father lent me his Army cap, along with some of his ribbons from the re-invasion of New Guinea.
On rainy days we crawled under Ronnie’s house where we built a small city in the dirt, played cars, and staged massive car wrecks. Since no adult ever went under the house, we were able to keep our city intact for days. In the summer it rained almost every afternoon. The rain cooled things off a little. After really big rains, my friends and I played with our toy boats by the side of Lowerline as the poor drainage formed a lake next to the curb. Tall monkey grass grew in the space between the curb and the sidewalk. This area functioned as our jungle along side the boat traffic on the lake. We hid toy solders under the grassy canopy and let them attack our unsuspecting boats.
Since we created our own play fields, we controlled them. We knew they were only products of our imagination. As we got older we easily transitioned from war games to team sports and left our guns behind.
I no longer live in New Orleans but I have gone back several times to the Carrolton Cemetery to look at the battlefields of my childhood. Where will the video game generations go to re-live their childhood?
Umm, how about their mobile phone by going here: http://www.namcogames.com
Also, I was looking for info online about it but couldn't find a reference to a video-game exhibit at the COSI museum in Columbus Ohio. The had all the oldies in their arcade glory: space invaders, joust, asteroids, centipede, glaxian, etc.
Posted by: Larry Cannell | January 21, 2005 at 03:24 PM