Pauline Nevins

After almost 50 years in California, I made my first trip to Catalina Island a week ago. I recommend it.
My husband, Jim, and I flew to Long Beach and rendezvoused at the dock with our grandson and his girlfriend. They drove from Sacramento, stopping at UC Santa Barbara to tour the campus in preparation for our grandson’s attendance in the fall.

There was a time when our grandson’s social life was non-existent, and graduation from high school was hanging by a flimsy thread — for a variety of complex reasons. I blamed video games.

The lead-up to my gaming education began at my daughter’s house. Our grandson, 17 at the time, sauntered into the living room wearing a robe. It was three o’clock in the afternoon.

“Did you just get up?” I asked. I’m sure my eyes narrowed.

He responded with a slow smile, followed by a yawn. “I was playing video games ‘till about 5 in the morning. Video games are fun grandma; you should play sometime."

“They’re so violent; I wouldn’t be able to stand it.”

“They’re not all violent. Come over sometime, and I'll show you."

“OK, you’re on,” I heard myself saying.

“It’ll be fun,” he said, stifling another yawn.

Two weeks later Grandson answered the doorbell on the first ring. His 6-foot frame filled the doorway. He pulled a long, dark-brown curl away from his face. He looked unusually clear-eyed — preparing for our video game competition, no doubt.

Grandson sat beside me on the living room sectional and began describing his video game equipment. I appreciated he thought I knew what he was talking about.

"This is the controller," he continued and placed the contraption in my hands. I'd seen these before but never touched one.

“Put your thumbs on the analog sticks and your forefingers on the bumpers and triggers,” he said, gently guiding my hand. “Just relax your fingers.”

To demonstrate, he’d chosen Journey, a simple game where the player controls a faceless figure in a robe and a scarf, crossing a hilly desert. When the player tags the scarf, the figure floats in the air and travels greater distances. Grandson explained how to handle the controls — what to press, and when. I've never been coordinated but managed to get the robed figure to do a couple of jumps.
“I have some others to show you, Grandma.”

I followed him down the hall and into his bedroom. I braced myself recalling snippets of conversation between Grandson and his mother that included the words, “health department.”

The door opened freely. A snow blower’s path had been cleared from the door to the computer chair.
“I’m going to show you StarCraft. I think you’ll find this game interesting,” he said, in all seriousness. Bursts of color, and objects I couldn't identify flashed onto the monitor, followed by sporadic explosions.

"There are three competing groups," Grandson explained. I couldn’t keep up with the action; things were blowing up in every direction. I finally understood these groups were separate armies on combat maneuvers trying to outflank and destroy each other.

I marveled at our grandson’s ability to simultaneously handle the controls and think strategically — at warp speed. I declined to play. He’d forgotten that when he was 5 years old I'd refused his offer to teach me chess.
It was then that he brought up video game tournaments.

“Did you know Grandma that professional players compete for six-figure prize money?”

“Never heard of that. How does that work?”

He explained how players sit on opposite ends of a stage in a tiny booth with windows, their faces blocked by large computer monitors. They hold one hand on the mouse and the other hand left of the keyboard so they can quickly reach the special hotkeys.

“Players have speed ratings called APMs — actions per minute calculated on the number of actions a player performs. It’s like a baseball player’s pitching speed. Some gamers can average up to 1,000 APMs during a battle segment.” I compared this with my 45-words-a-minute typing speed.

Lesson over, I looked around the bedroom — books everywhere.

“Have you read all these?” I asked.

“Most of them. I prefer science-fiction, but I’ve read lots of the classics — 'The Glass Bead Game' is my favorite.”

I walked over to his dresser and read aloud some of the titles: 'Siddhartha,' 'Cat's Cradle,' 'Neuromancer,' 'Jonathon Strange' and 'Mr. Norrel, Le Morte d'Arthur, The Brothers Karamazov.' The 'Fountainhead' was the only book I’d read.

I’d have to remember to tell Grandpa that Grandson does something other than play video games. He reads books — some with titles I couldn’t pronounce.

As we approached the dock at Catalina Island I hoped our grandson would remember this trip, our gift to him, as warmly as I remember his gift to me.