Notes from Maine - 2023/12/10
A few months ago, I was invited to speak at a conference down in Massachusetts. It’s rare for me to stray more than an hour from my house. With the horse & dog chores here, traveling is difficult. But it’s always an honor to be invited to speak, so I begged my friend to house sit for the day and I went. It didn’t go all that well. There were issues with the A/V equipment there (no sound, colors swapped), and I had to improvise a new order for my slides while the “video loaded.” I’m still shaking my head about that experience. A friend in the audience said it went fine, but that’s what a friend is supposed to say, right? It’s of no real consequence—the quality of that presentation won’t affect me in any meaningful way going forward—but it’s frustrating to compose a presentation and then have it go awry due to circumstances outside my control.
When people ask me what I “do,” I always say, “I’m a writer.” It’s true—I write every day and I often publish books, although it has now been a year since I’ve done that last part.
This wasn’t a conference about writing or publishing books though. My presentation was about writing and running new operating code for solid state pinball machines. Most of the machines I write code for are from the late 1970s and early 1980s. It’s a fun diversion to engage with while I’m taking a break from long-term projects (like books) or really epic projects (like remodeling my kitchen).
Last week I took another fun trip—that’s two in one year!
This time, I was invited to come install some of that new pinball code at Funspot in New Hampshire. It’s the “Largest Aracde in the World!” according to the sign and the plaque on the wall from Guinness World Records. I begged my same friend to house sit (honestly, if she had been busy, I wouldn’t have gone), and then filled my car with friends for the long drive. Adult people with jobs, families, and responsibilities will drop everything to take a trip to the Largest Arcade in the World on a random Thursday, if you give them a little notice. One friend was waiting at the end of his driveway with his coat zipped up to his chin and his thumbs looped through the straps of his backpack. In his late fifties, he looked like he was waiting for the bus to take him to middle school.
When we arrived, we were treated to a tour by the owner. Within minutes I couldn’t have pointed to an exit. The place is a maze of giant rooms filled with row upon row of video games and pinball machines. They have tiny bumper cars for kids who are normally too little for such things, an indoor mini golf course, and a bowling alley. Our tour ended at a cafeteria where they presented us with hot pizza.
Our host (Dave) had pointed out the red benches during the tour. Every winter, his father would bring them into the shop and paint each one so they were perfect for the next summer. Now the place is open year round. I looked down at the bench I was sitting at and asked, “You haven’t painted this one yet?”
He smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in the corners of his eyes.
“That’s where Dad always sat. The buckles on the straps of his suspenders wore that paint away. I won’t repaint that one.”
That was a touching moment in a perfect day.
If you find yourself in Laconia New Hampshire, on the shore of Lake Winnipesaukee, go to Funspot and look for the Meteor pinball machine (made by Stern Electronics, 1979). Hit the drop targets and you’ll hear my voice, telling you in which sectors you should expect incoming meteors. I wrote that code at the same time that I was finishing up a book called Incarnation. Bring your paperback and you can sit on a red bench and enjoy two of my creative endeavors in the same day. Be sure to look for the red bench with the scrape marks on the backrest.
