POKEMON GO IN CENTRAL PARK

Today, the bus goes in reverse, back in time. Not far. Just a couple weeks ago, specifically Monday, July 18th.   Okay, we’re there and we join the conversation…

Did you read the New York Times today?

       All of it?

The “Today’s Videos” section.

      What’s in it?pokpark

There’s a video entitled: “The Week Pokemon Go Took Over Central Park.”  The big public park in NYC.

      Is it worth reading?

It’s just a video. You don’t have to read anything.  Well, there are subtitles that repeat what is said. You can read them or not.  You get the dialogue that’s spoken, either way. You watch a two-and-a-half minute video interview of young people in Central Park who play Pokemon Go there.

       Do you learn how to play the game?

 No.  You learn about the people who play it.  You find out why they do it.

       I assume they do it because they enjoy it.  And their friends do it with them sometimes.

Right.  Their parents worry they’ll get hit by a bus because they’re paying attention to the game, not what’s going on around them.

 

Untitled

 

Of course.  That’s what parents do.  They worry.  And if a kid does get hurt, the others will say:            “That’s not going to happen to me.”  And they’re probably right.  So they’ll keep playing.  Let me guess:  All the kids love the game, they and their friends think parents worry too much, they dress sloppy…

 

They dress the way they want.  And, yes, they don’t look like a reflection of their parents.  That’s what kids do.  That’s not a battle parents need to fight.

       And they don’t think they’re addicted to the game, even though they are.

Nobody admits they’re addicted to anything.  Just like racists know it’s not a good thing to say:  “Yeah, I’m a racist.  What’s your point?”

      Do they mind talking about the game?

No.  Sometimes, one kid is being talked to.  Sometimes, it’s a small group.

     How long will the game be popular?

I don’t know.  One kid said:  “We’re a generation who grows bored of things quickly.”

      Like “cabbage patch kids” dolls.  

pokface I guess.  The kid sounded smart.

      Even though he dressed “sloppy?”

He dressed:  “Independently.”

      I think he’d agree with you.  Independently.  The way he chooses the game he plays.

He and his friends play the game “Independently” …together.

     You sound like a parent.

I am a parent.

      I can tell by the way you’re dressed.  Where are we going for coffee?

Same place as usual.  Let’s stop for John and Linda.  They’d like going, too.

*****

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About rcarmean

Two things... First, why have I decided to establish this blog? I like to put essays together. I research an idea or topic looking for information, statistics, stories, quotes, pictures, etc. I enjoy the process and seeing a finished product. I’m told that as I get older, new activities can help maintain energy and keep my brain alert. In other words, I am not doing this for money or fame. Second, regarding the gentleman in the collage of pictures above...it's not me. Those are photos of Christy Mathewson. Why him? When I was young, my primary activity was being sick. It took up much of my time. Eczema (a case so bad I was written up in a medical journal showing doctors what their patients COULD look like), asthma, and allergies. You know allergies: don’t eat this, don’t wear that, and, for Heaven’s sake, don’t touch any of these things (eg, dogs, cats, horses --I only saw horses in cowboy movies and TV shows, dust, swimming pools, my brother --OK, that’s an exaggeration, Rick was a fine brother). In my spare time between doctors' appointments, pills, and ointments, baseball kept me sane. In the 1940s and 1950s, when I grew up, pro footballI and basketball had not yet become extremely popular. Baseball truly was “the national pastime.” I listened to games on the radio (remember it? TV without the picture). I read magazines, books, and newspaper accounts of games. I collected baseball cards. I learned about the game’s history, as well as present. The same with its stars. One man stood out: Christy Mathewson. He was a great pitcher for the New York Giants in the early 20th century. But there was much more to him. At a time when professional athletes made little money (yes, there was such a time) and ball players were considered on the same level as actors, artists, and prostitutes, Mathewson stood out. One of his nicknames was: “The Christian Gentleman.” Most men is baseball drank, smoked, cursed, and fought —with other players, umpires, and fans. The fights were physical, not just verbal. Mathewson did none of these things. But he earned the respect of other players who did them all. Even Ty Cobb and John McGraw. There’s more. He was a college graduate (Bucknell University) when most men were lucky to have a high school diploma. He played other sports, including pro football which you wouldn’t recognize. He was handsome. He played in New York City, then as now, the largest city in the country. Excellence and popularity there meant fame and money. He dressed well. Today, his commercials would rival LeBron’s. And, finally, a hero’s life must have tragedy. After his playing career ended, WWI arrived. He suffered from influenza and was exposed to mustard gas. Chemical warfare. His lungs were damaged and he required treatment for the rest of his life. (Like my Grandfather who also fought in The Great War.) He died in 1925. He was 45 years old. I have his picture here because you need to know more about him than me. He was what an athlete could be. Players like him and their accomplishments got me through a sickly, painful childhood and can still sustain me in difficult times. *****
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