My Mother Taught Me To Love Video Games
My family’s hobby started with my mom.
Like nearly everyone my age, I grew up with video games. I’m old enough to remember the tail end of Atari, the rise and fall of Sega, the upstarts of Sony and Microsoft, and the long domination that is Nintendo.
Unlike the majority of kids my age back in the 80s though, my introduction to the world of video games comes from an odd source.
My mother.
She loved video games. Her game of choice was any Pac-Man, though she was equally good at arcade Centipede.
While most of my friends had their parents dragging their video game systems away so they could watch the evening news, my mother was dragging us off to make sure we couldn’t beat her high score on Pac-Mac.
Not that we could. I don’t remember how high she got in that game, but there was no way we could match her.
Of course, as video game systems got more complicated, my mother stopped playing. The last video game I remember her enjoying thoroughly was Dr. Mario on the NES.
Still, she loved watching us play. She would spend the hours along with us as we journeyed through Zelda, Mario, and eventually through online worlds like World of Warcraft.
And while she watched us, she taught my brother, sister, and me to cooperate. To share. To take turns playing and having fun together. It taught us skills that would benefit us later in life. I was the first one to finish the final boss in Zelda, A Link to the Past. My brother was the only one who could jump over Bowser in the original Super Mario Bros.
Video games are still important to me, and I make sure to spend time with my son. We share. We help each other. He learns important life skills.
I owe that to my Mom.
