My first computer was a Commodore 64, received as a Christmas present from my parents in ’84 or ’85. Sometime in ’87, I had my first modem connected to it. At that time I also had a new friend who was very into computers — even more technical with them than I was.

This friend introduced me to the concept of hooking into computer systems not intended for public access. Ironically, and fortunately, this friend was not malicious. He was just fascinated by the process. To my knowledge, he never knowingly did any harm to the computer systems he hacked into — he just wanted to see if he could get in, and then see what all was there.

Personally, my first solo hack (really just an “invasion”) was getting into the local telephone company’s computer system. From my bedroom, with my C64 and a 12″ black-and-white TV, I could get into a “big company” computer system and see all their data on all their telephone numbers.

By today’s standards, and even by the standards of real hackers in the ’80s, I was no more than a peeping Tom, a voyeur. I could see all the telephone numbers in our town, and I could see the status of those numbers. The data was just a bunch lines of information scrolling down the TV screen, but I figured out what all the numbers and codes meant.

I remember the feeling of having snuck in somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be, and it was thrilling. But that’s the only real invasion I ever did, even though my friend gave me his list of computer systems in our town.

He had programmed his computer to, overnight, dial up every phone number in our town and log every number that had a computer system answer. He then printed out the list and gave me a copy. It had a couple dozen numbers which he would later personally investigate to find out exactly what the system was.

I flashed that list around to some of my other friends at the time, saying, “Ain’t this cool?” It was very cool to me, but pursuing them turned out pretty boring. Since I wasn’t interested in screwing up some company’s computer system (intentionally or accidentally), and fooling around even a little made me nervous I’d get caught, I didn’t really catch the hacking bug.

So my hacking days were few in number. My modem became just a hunk of plastic attached to my computer for a few months until my friend introduced me to BBSs (bulletin board systems) — that’s where the fun with a modem was to be found. I could actually dial in and do something besides just look at data. I could play games with other players from all over . . . my town, and I could access porn pictures, for free!

After trying to download the first free picture over a 1200 baud line, well, I gave up that idea. But the daily-turn based games hooked me forever on online computer games. We’ve come a long way, baby.

Bullgrit

I bumped into an old (previous job & company) coworker friend while wandering through Target the other day. “Hey, Bullgrit!” he said as he put out his hand.

“Hey. . .” I said as I gladly shook his hand. I avoided calling him, “Buddy” or “Dude.”

I hadn’t really forgotten his name – it’s Bob or Bill – no, really, it’s not what you think. See, he’s one of a pair of twins who both worked at the old company with me. One’s name is Bob, the other’s is Bill. I saw one only occasionally around the offices, but the other – the one I met again at Target – I actually worked closely with for over a year. I don’t know the former much at all, but the latter I got to know, and I like him.

But I can’t remember which was Bob and which was Bill. I mean, they’re identical twins with very similar names. I’m naturally bad with remembering names anyway, but when you give me two people who look nearly alike, whom I know from the same place, and they have such close names, come on! Tack on that it’s been at least three years since I saw either of them, and I consider it a success that I remember “Bob or Bill.”

[I’ll give their parents a pass on the names. They probably named the boys Robert and William, very different, without the nicknames coming to mind at the time.]

Bob-or-Bill and I chatted for several minutes in the computer game section of the store. (His son was looking for Halo 3, and I was looking at Portal.) I liked catching up a bit with Bob-or-Bill, but I was distracted with trying to remember his name.

I asked how his brother was doing, and if he was still at the old company. It was a sincere question, but I also hoped Bob-or-Bill would say his brother’s name. No luck on that.

So through our whole conversation, as we pushed our carts through the electronics department and toys aisles, he’d occasionally say my name, but I couldn’t say his name. After a couple minutes, I came to think I had his name pegged at Bob, but I didn’t want to say it and be mistaken. Which is more embarrassing: never saying your friend’s name during a conversation, or saying the wrong name? (Is it the same rule as for when having sex?)

I was so distracted by my conundrum that I failed to get his email address, or give him mine. We both have a web presence — although his is more of a business/store presence –- so we should have exchanged this info. But I was stuck on the Bob-or-Bill confusion.

I’m going to start carrying a pack of name tags and a big, black marker around with me. Whenever I bump into an old chum, I’ll pull out the tags and pen. I’ll write my name on one tag, and stick it to my chest. I’ll hand the other person a tag and the pen. This will help keep the distraction of wondering who they are out of my head so we can have a better and less stressful conversation. Thank you for your cooperation.

Bullgrit

Sunday, Jan. 4 was our oldest boy’s birthday — he’s now 8 years old. We had his party on Saturday afternoon at the bowling alley, again (totally his choice). It’s funny, the only times we ever go to the bowling ally is for his or his friends’ birthday parties.

We had 11 kids in total (including our two Calves), so we had them split up on two adjacent lanes. Overall, the whole thing was a hit. When we were cleaning up, CG8 said, “This was the best birthday party I’ve ever had.” That kind of thing just warms a parent’s heart. Especially when the whole thing wasn’t expensive or difficult to arrange.

As fun as the party was for Calfgrit8 and his friends — all 7-8 year old kids — the most fun for me to watch was Calfgrit4 being a part of all the big kid activities. He’s 4 years old, going on 8, and he keeps up pretty well.

He used both hands to pick up a bowling ball weighing about 20% of his own body weight, staggered up to the line, put the ball down, and gave it a big push on the floor. (All of this was with my or Cowgrit’s supervision and instruction.)

It took the ball over 20 seconds to roll all the way down to the pins, where it had about a 50/50 chance of knocking down a pin or two, or dropping in the gutter right before the pins (the side bumpers were up for all the kids). I video taped a few of his bowls, and each one took between 20 and 25 seconds from his hands to the pins.

He was excited to just knock down one pin. Once, he knocked down seven, and he showed no more excitement for that than for just one. I think he was more excited to see the ball shoot up to the return from under the lanes.

God, to experience that kind of excitement for simple things again, that would be a wonderful thing.

Bullgrit

(Related to Friday’s post.) At the game store, my boys got interested in some water-sports game on some unknown-to-me console system. But I spotted old-school Super Mario Bros. on another monitor, so I gravitated over to it.

The first few tries I made at the old game showed that I’d lost any skills I once might have had with it. I just right sucked at it. But after a few minutes, and about half a dozen deaths, I managed to make my way in the world. Soon Calfgrit7 (he turned 8 yesterday, but that’s another post, tomorrow) noticed my game and left his little brother to float around in the water game.

CG7 asked to play and I let him. I told him the object of the game and how the controller worked, and he took right into it. It took him less time to get the hang of the game than it did me to get back into the hang. He was stomping Goombas and Koopa Troopas left and right.

Once I saw how impressed he was with the old game, I told him that I had this game at home. He was immediately interested. “Really!? Can we play it!?”

So when we got home that night, after baths were finished and pajamas were on, I took out my old Super Nintendo and plugged it into our TV. I was mistaken when I told CG7 I had Super Mario Bros. I have Super Mario Kart — but that’s even better for our situation. With SMK, both boys can play at the same time instead of waiting for turns.

I explained the game and controls to both boys and let them loose on the first basic race track. They *loved* it! At first, though, CG7 was frustrated with figuring out how to drive the karts on the track. He moaned and complained “Why can’t I get off this wall? Why am I going the wrong way?”

I got him to calm down for a moment and said, “Now think about it for a moment. There’s no hurry for you — Calfgrit4 is just going in circles — so take your time and think about how to work the controls.”

He took a big breath and calmed down. Within a few more seconds he had it figured out and was racing. Of course, he was just racing himself, as CG4 continued his circling the starting line.

I let them play two races — CG7 won both, of course — and then I took over for CG4. I won the next two races, easily, but not without having to try. CG7 knew what he was doing by then, and if I started screwing around on the track, he’d pass me and I had to work to get ahead again.

I gave the controller back to CG4 who again lost a race. But it didn’t matter to him that CG7 was running circles around him, (as he ran circles around himself), he just liked controlling the character on the screen.

By the way, Calfgrit7 likes Donkey Kong, and Calfgrit4 likes Luigi. We all three had a ball with this old game for over half an hour. Afterwards they made me promise we’d play it again sometime soon.

The play of the game holds up well after all this time — originally produced in 1992 — but the graphics are absolutely abysmal by today’s standards. It’s really shocking to go from any modern console or computer game and then watch this thing. It’s amazing what our minds ignore or fill in with the old, simple graphics of the old games.

When I’ve always thought back on these games, I can picture in my mind’s eye, vivid details and smooth colors. Looking at Mario Kart on the Wii doesn’t look different than what I remember, in my mind’s eye, of the Super version. But actually looking at the 1992 graphics, wow, nostalgia paints a much more beautiful and detailed image than reality.

But that’s the technology we had in the day. And still, the game play was and still is superb. I’m looking forward to playing this some more with my boys. By the end of our half hour of play time, I had just started introducing the special abilities — shells, banana peels, speed mushrooms, etc. — so our next races should be even more exciting.

Bullgrit