Jimmy’s new toy (Dec. 30, 1990)

December 30, 1990

Jimmy called, talking about his new toy. The man has discovered the world of Computer games late in life, as if indulging in a second childhood early-- all these newfangled machines being exactly the thing most of us craved in our youth. We tend to look at the new generation rather jealously, stealing from them what we ourselves are too ashamed to admit we need. Though the truth of Jimmy's fascination goes back a few years, when RISK was the game of choice. He used to gather people together to have a game, sometimes in his father's house (I remember one session on the hill in West Paterson) or in the houses of one of his friends.

 Games with Jimmy are interesting, in any form. He likes word games now a days, but also got caught up in Trivial Pursuit. He plays both frequently when guests come to his house. Garrick's negative opinion has always been part of the play-- siding up with anyone in order to make certain Jimmy loses. This is part of his mistaken belief in Jimmy's passionate need to win.

 I think the game is enough, the interaction with other human beings-- winner or loser, Jimmy needs to press himself against others to measure his position in the world. Nor does this especially mean within the structure of a game either. When meeting new people, he banters them with questions that are not in the least polite or appropriate, always couched in humor, yet sometimes biting. With Michael Alexander, Jimmy met his match and for eight hours I drove them from place to place as they battled wits in the back seat. Garrick sat and talked with me as we drove, ignoring this test of wills.

 But the computer is a new instrument of destruction in his home, something that has attached itself to the heart of him, as if he has waited all his life for it. He has attached himself firmly to bulletin boards, sending clever, but mundane messages out into the airwaves, a frustrated disc-jockey looking for a response. On Christmas Eve I sat there and read some of the replies. I was appalled. Have none of these people better things to do? Hasn't Jimmy?

 Over Dinner that same evening, he mentioned that he had not read a book in three weeks-- echoing the perpetual problem now plaguing youth. And he, being the consummate librarian!

 Perhaps technology has overtaken the medium of books, and Jimmy, being the leader of our little pack, has taken the first step into that world, leading us on into the new promised land.

 Somehow, however, it seems wrong. Like an addiction. Like a cult. As if stepping too far into it, we lose something of value. I'm not merely talking fear of technology-- though that has its place in this scheme. I refer mostly to the idea that we may not know the results of a step of any kind until we have taken it and the door to the past has closed behind us.

 Games and mundane messages out of the airways seem a poor trade for the master pieces of literature, or the educative process which these machines could provide if used properly.

 Meanwhile, there is the waste of time-- Jimmy poking messages into his keyboard rather than brushes at canvas. He has, of course, saved much time using the computer for his art. But does it make up for the loss of something more precious-- his own sense of reality? Who knows? Perhaps reality is shifting with the technology, and what I do, reading and writing, will be as out of date someday as writing with a quill is today.