Cooper's family was not all that well to do, upon hindsight, they were a very blue-collar family living in the not-so-nice area of our town. My older brother and Cooper found each other on the same little league baseball team, and as with any kids team events, the parents grew to become sort of friends, if only from having to endure each and every game. That's what parents did back then, unlike today, where it's as much a babysitting service the coaches put up with from the parents. No, back then you went to your kid's practice and games. There are few of us left who still do.

After one of the games, my family was invited over to Cooper's house for a cookout. Burgers, hotdogs, baked beans, and potato salad was the standard fare. As kids, we'd play wiffle ball, capture the flag, and looked at dirty magazines in Cooper's fort he had built in the back yard. The parents would sit in folded lawn chairs, drinking canned Schlitz and discussed God knows what. I seem to recall something about a peanut farmer running for president. All the while an AM radio played mid-70’s hits to set the ambiance.

Down With The Sickness.

In my eyes, Cooper was cool, if only because he was older than I. But then again, he was also just plain cool. He'd let me in on stuff little brothers generally weren't all that privy to. Like girls, illegal fireworks and how to smoke. He wasn’t really all that good at baseball, being tall and skinny, but later turned into a state championship wrestler when he filled in.

Back inside the fort, a lull in the cursing set in as everyone glazed over the tittie magazines. I Looked up from your standard spread eagle shot, to see Cooper devilishly grinning and asked if anyone would like to check out what his dad had brought home from work. The magazines had everyone’s attention full stop, but it was Cooper and he was cool, so I acknowledged interest and off we went.

Cooper's dad worked for Sears as a floor salesman, which allowed him access to most gaming systems and other new electronics that would end up home, in their den. They were the first to own a CB radio that I knew, in fact my dad had bought one off Cooper’s dad, once the pressure from my brother and I became unbearable.

Cooper dragged me through his kitchen (grabbing a can of Schlitz along the way) and showed me the Fairchild Channel F. I was young and naive, relatively clueless to the home video game scene. It was only a few years ago, while attending a local classic gaming event, that I realized the name of the console. All I could remember was that the joysticks had triangles on top and were quite wobbly. Oh and there was a baseball game. Man, a friggin' baseball game to be played on a TV! How nice was that? I was totally immersed in this game, oblivious to the fact that Cooper was downing beer behind me. Not sure if him being only 13 or if he had been drinking more than one beer, but my blissful gaming session quickly came screeching to a halt by the sounds of puke hitting shag carpeting. There must have been some "parental puking radar" in play or something, because it took only a few seconds for the den to fill with parents, trying to put two and two together. Our family left soon after.

"You can have any colour you want, so long as its Loogey Green, Sir".

That was the first (and only) time I played the Fairchild, but whenever I saw Cooper, I had to ask him about the games (not the puking). He'd let me in on other games they had gotten in detail. Despite almost constant begs and pleas to visit them, our family never did - Cooper's house was seemingly out of bounds. Until a chance meeting a few years later...

Loud incessant honking woke up the neighborhood, which came from our driveway. As we filed out of the house, with dad cursing, there was Cooper, fresh from getting his driver's license, sitting in our driveway in his dad's, brown, '74 Chevy Station-wagon. Yeah, the one with wood paneling on the sides. He had other news to share as well! His dad had just brought home a new gaming system and wanted us to come see it. My brother declined (I'm sure some Star Trek marathon was on), I asked to go, and was much surprised when I was allowed! Ah yes, the times when driving a car wasn't known to be a threat. Seat belts? Not quite.

Cooper did a car share with Quincy.

As we're driving off to Cooper's house an odd memory stays with me, as much as playing Breakout on his new Atari his dad had "borrowed". There's Cooper driving, windows down, hot summer day, wind blowing our hair about the place, when on the radio comes Genesis. ‘On Broadway’ was the tune and seeing him screaming the words out of the window with one hand on the wheel , while the other arm outside the window as if singing a show tune, was one of the funniest things. As I finally caught my breath from hysterically laughing, thinking Cooper's family was indeed well to do.

And then, about a year ago, I bumped into Cooper one last time. His kid and mine were on the school's wrestling team together. We chatted a bit about family, health and all the usual stuuf and then I asked about his old gaming systems. He vaguely remembered them. There was a serious look about his face, not the goofy grin and wild look in his eye he once possesed as a carefree kid, but something older and quite disquieting. I truly wanted to ask him about the lastest consoles, the 360 and modern gaming in general. I wanted to ask how he made out through the NES, SNES and Genny years. Did he desire a Dreamcast? Was he into exotic Japanese titles? Surely he had a GBA somewhere on him as we spoke, right? But I didn't. Something inside told me not to go there. A defense mechanism triggered deep inside, telling me to let it go. Instead we made plans to meet for a dinner with our families "someday soon". But I'm not convinced it will ever materialize.

October 2006

Comments