Once Upon A Time

ONCE UPON A TIME

Once upon a time in a land not so far ago…there existed a very wonderful magical world. It was a world without video games, computers, VCRs and DVD players, no boom boxes, walkmans, or MP3 players. Oh, it wasn’t a land in outer space. There actually was a television set in nearly every home; but there was usually only one, and that ceremoniously occupied the family room. But for kids, the television was only good for Saturday mornings, and maybe for an hour or so right after school. Other than that, it only showed news programs or grown up stuff that was boring.

What made this land so very magical was the fact that it ran on a never-ending supply of imagination! It didn’t matter if your family was rich or poor because your popularity was based on whether or not you had an active and adaptable imagination. The world was your toy box, and the only game you didn’t own was the one you and your friends hadn’t invented yet.

A broken branch could quickly and magically transform itself into a powerful steed or a gleaming sword, a witch’s broom, a cosmic saber or a foot soldier’s rifle. Old playing cards pinned onto bicycle spokes easily transformed a Columbia bicycle into an Indy 500 racecar. A scrap of paper and a scavenged twig could turn an ordinary puddle into a raging sea haunted by pirate ships or enemy subs. A field of fireflies could instantly transport you into a flight of fancy amongst the stars in outer space.

Small stones formed the boundaries of tremendous castles, picket fences protected pioneers from Indian war parties, and those three old boards from the neighbor’s shed suddenly became the headquarters for a band of very clever spies. The family dog, tolerant and devoted, unwittingly played roles ranging from a ferocious fire-breathing dragon to an undercover foreign spy. He was an enemy one day, an ally the next.

The world was as big as your imagination, and innocence abounded. The boundaries between good and evil were clearly defined, and everyone always preferred to be the good guy. Harming innocent bystanders was a serious infraction, and property damage was not to be tolerated.

The battles were always clear-cut. It was bad guys against good guys, and the good guys always won! Wars were fought against clearly defined enemies, and when you ‘shot the enemy’ you never pictured the gory wounds or agonizing death. After all, the ‘enemy’ was your best friend who lived next door, and you really didn’t want anything bad to happen to him because tomorrow he was going to be the good guy and shoot you! The battles never damaged homes, never inflicted pain, and nobody ever saw a drop of blood. The game was about strategy, skill, and the element of surprise. The winning team wasn’t the one who tallied the highest body count, but simply the team who scored the most points. And when the war was over, both sides ran off to play a game of hide and seek.


Even our movie scripts were elaborate, composed on the spot beneath the quilted tents skillfully erected in the back yard. And as the tales unfolded, the high tech special effects of a flashlight---shining harshly from beneath the narrator’s chin---sent an eerie chill up and down the audience’s spines. Twigs, cleverly hidden within the narrator’s reach, were snapped mysteriously to emphasize a stranger’s approach. The winds automatically rustled branches on cue to lend credence to the tale, and an innocent sneeze could ignite a symphony of screams from the spellbound audience.

But, alas, over time, the magic faded and technology wormed its way into our enchanted lives. Our steadfast wooden steeds have been replaced by a hybrid herd of BMX and mountain bikes. Our sway-backed branches can’t compete with the shiny steel thoroughbreds. Our gleaming wooden swords are dimmed in the neon glow of the fancy battery-operated plastic Star Wars light sabers. And how can a crooked wooden rifle compete against the laser-driven rounds fired in rapid succession on a hand-held Space Invaders Game Boy? Our paper armada of tall ships can’t possible survive an attack of battery-operated submarines. No, technology has invented an antidote for the magical potion of imagination.

And as technology advances, the magic dims. Sticks and stones and paper and boards lay dormant in the forgotten corners of our yards. The battles are being fought now from the comfort of an armchair, with raucous noise and blazing lights accompanying each elaborate skirmish. The battlefield has shrunk to the size of a television screen, and these screen graphics leave little to the imagination. With military precision, the players can choose between helicopters and fighter jets, rocket launchers and atom bombs. Digital scoreboards keep track of the body count, and collateral damage is no longer penalized.

The poor family dog has become a nuisance as he walks pleadingly between the television screen and his ‘used-to-be’ kids, who are busy manning the game controls. He misses running and jumping and playing with the hoard of kids that used to infiltrate his back yard. Now there is only his master and sometimes one other friend, but they are too engrossed in the graphics of the video game to notice his sad pleading eyes. His kids never see anything now that isn’t directly in line with the video screen, and they never want to play outside any more. They protest that it’s boring, and there’s nothing to do outside.

Every week a new video game or new movie is introduced into the market. The “cool” kids are the ones whose parents can shell out the most money to purchase the newest games. With monotonous repetition, a new game cartridge gets popped into the Game Cube, and the death and destruction replays again and again. If it weren’t for the digital scoreboard, you might think you were watching a holocaust on the evening news. Graphics designers are producing more and more realistic renditions of mutilation, gore, and destruction. Good guys and bad guys are interchangeable, and it no longer matters whether good or evil prevails. The object now is to create death and destruction, in any manner possible.

The art of masterful narration is lost. Tales are no longer verbal recounts of imaginary villains. The stories now are captured on disk, and experienced more fully with the introduction of surround sound and home theater setups. Knights of the Round Table and heroes like the Lone Ranger have lost their charm. Movies have to contain car crashes and graphically realistic murders, vulgar language and spectacular choreographies of ninja battles. Violence, drugs, sex and irreverence top the charts, and wholesome family stories fall by the wayside. The good guys seldom win, and bad guys are idolized.

What would happen if some dark day, a terrible magnetic storm rendered all the video games and movies inoperable? Would our children know how to survive the monotony of life without graphic portrayals? Sadly, I believe that their imaginations have atrophied beyond restoration. They’ve forgotten how to amuse themselves without the world of technology to draw the pictures. Their battles must be staged according to a graphically predetermined script, and props must be accurately manufactured, down to the minutest detail. If a glitch should occur in the program, their imaginations wouldn’t know how to hit ‘reset’. GAME OVER!!

As for me, well…I saved a little magic dust in that trunk over there, and I’d be willing to share a sprinkle or two with an old friend.