David Spates "Therefore I Am" Published Feb. 10, 2004

I did it for the kids. You believe that, right?

I tried to justify it as something for my children, but I was kidding myself. The vintage Atari video game system was for me, the old man.

In my own self-defense, it indeed began as an idea that I thought my daughter -- and in a couple of years, my son -- would enjoy. A few months ago Anna discovered the Nintendo 64 video game that I played years and years ago, long before children, long before sleep deprivation and long before the inability to sit in a chair for more than four minutes at a time.

The Nintendo games cartridges are brightly colored and have cute cartoon characters on them like Mario the plumber and Luke the Jedi. In Anna's mind, cartoon characters are for kids, so logically these games must be for her. Despite my rambling explanations that not all cartoons are for little girls, she didn't buy it. She wanted to "play the Mario," as she put it.

OK, OK. After scouring the house's junk drawers for the necessary cords and adapters, the Nintendo 64 once again glowed with electric life. A resurrected Mario triumphantly stood before me on the screen, awaiting to resume the weekend adventures we enjoyed those many years ago. My daughter couldn't believe her eyes. Here's this little cartoon character she can control, unlike TV's other cartoon characters who make all the decisions on their own -- those dirty rats.

She could control Mario, yes, but not very well. A three-dimensional video world with multiple action buttons and player-controlled variable camera viewpoints is a little more than a (nearly) 3-year-old can manage. Discouraged, she dropped the Nintendo controller and moved on to terrorize her little brother, a more familiar and rewarding endeavor.

As Anna pummeled Phil, the idea occurred to me. How about an old Atari, like the one I had when I was a wee lad? Now that's something she (who?) would enjoy. Phil would too, soon enough. One oversized joystick and one red "fire" button - that's all there is. She already uses a mouse to expertly maneuver around sesamestreet.com, so a joystick would be a snap.

A few days later, I spotted my bounty (on eBay, where else?). Five days and $14 in shipping charges after that, a box delivered straight from my childhood arrived at my doorstep. Without even turning it on, I had traveled back in time. Not bad for 59 bucks, eh? It was Christmas 1978 once again, this time in February 2004.

"What is it, Dad? What IS it?" Anna asked over and over, uncertain if the excitement was something to enjoy or fear. It was both.

"It's an Atari!" I responded, barely able to control my joy. But it wasn't just an Atari console. Oh no. It was also dozens of game cartridges, the likes of which I haven't laid eyes on in decades -- all for one high bid. Space Invaders. Asteroids. Donkey Kong. Pac-Man. Pitfall. Megamania. Kaboom. Combat. The list goes on and on. Somewhere in my house, in a small corner of virtual reality, Nintendo Mario looked on and shook his head, knowing full well that his day had come. The grand old master was back in town.

As I hooked it up to the TV, I envisioned myself, Anna and Phil playing for hours on end, just like I did when I was 8 years old. Anna would immediately fall in love with the easy-to-grasp games, and Phil's 1-year-old attention span would be ensnared by the pulse-pounding action, or so I thought. Shelia would come home from work to see us three lined up in front of the TV like blackbirds on a telephone wire. Instead, Anna got bored with it in about nine minutes, and all Phil wanted to do was wrap the joystick cord around his face.

So much for taking the offspring on a trip down memory lane. I suspect they'll come to appreciate Atari's wonder and grandeur eventually, but not today.

Kids today, they just don't appreciate a good thing when they've got it. That's fine. That just leaves more Donkey Kong for me, even though I have to wait until they go to bed before I can steal away for a few minutes to play. It's all mine, for now.

The graphics aren't splashy. The Atari processor can barely handle two-dimensional images, much less three. The '70s-era console looks pretty dopey by today's standards - oversized switches, unnecessary plastic grating and the faux woodgrain finish across the front. Digital surround sound? No way. It's not even stereo. If you want stereo, go drop the needle on a Frampton album.

But the lackluster features don't mean anything to me. A glimpse into the glory days of childhood is its own reward, regardless if my kids never want to shoot even one asteroid.

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David Spates is a Knoxville resident and Crossville Chronicle contributor whose column is published each Tuesday. He can be reached at davespates@chartertn.net.