Thursday, January 31, 2008

Nintendo Music Makes Me Cry

One of our girls’ swings has music on it that reminds me of the soundtrack to Dragon Warrior, a Nintendo RPG from the late 80s. And damn it if I don’t get so nostalgic at times that I become a little teary.


I’ve worried about my nostalgic kicks before, as being so wistful about childhood always seemed to me something that only old poets do. Yet for years I’ve been rather emotional about aspects of childhood that I miss.


I’m sure there’s some psychological issue tied to this – an inability to fully grow up or to fully accept the responsibility of being an “adult”; or perhaps I am just “one who thinks too much.”


Either way, if I let that music affect me, I will feel immediately, and for a very short duration, transported to the context in which I remember hearing it. I loved watching my older brother play computer and console games, back when we had somewhat of a communicative relationship (perhaps a key to some of my longing). I could watch him do the most banal tasks in the world, as much of that game consisted of fighting the same monsters, and using the same tactics to do so, over and over again. But he persisted without boredom and when it came time to actually do something strategic, he seemed so good at it.


I suppose, then, part of what I miss is watching someone who I admired do something that I thought was very cool and fun, though still hard.


I wonder if any of these feelings have to do with the lack of a father figure in my life, and my brother’s game-playing being one of the few things growing up that, in hindsight, gave me some sense of awe that many boys feel for their fathers.


In the end, it was awe for something that I now think isn’t all that important and something that I’ve moved away from in my life. But there are other losses at work - loss for the relationship with my brother, loss of my father, loss of a particular kind of superfluous play.


On the optimistic side, these are things I can re-establish and create anew with my own children.