Saving Kit
by keara22hi, HSM team writer
At sea – off the coast of Baja – with a seriously troubled toddler. It was an escape, taking a cruise to Mexico to sort out what we should do with a problem that seemed insurmountable. Our son was three years old and had been sent home from nursery school by a worried teacher. She suggested we seek professional help for him. After spending a day at the nursery school ‘observing’, I knew she was right. Something was seriously wrong.
The child psychiatrist was also at a loss on how to treat this ‘problem’. In 1975 either Asperger’s Syndrome had not yet been identified, or this elderly gentleman was still stuck in a Freudian time-warp. In any event, he could tell us our son was socially maladjusted – but no idea of how to treat him. Especially since Kit would not talk to him, either.
We decided to take him away from the familiar surroundings of home, away from the television that had totally absorbed his attention, away from the concerned grandparents who hovered, and away from the well-meaning neighbors and friends who were always offering unsolicited advice.
So – here we were at sea – trying to fly a kite off the aft deck of the cruise ship. While we were talking to an exasperated deck hand who did not want to warn us again about that kite, Kit wandered off on his own. Suddenly, I heard a whoop of joy. He had found a large table in the lounge next to the deck. The table had a glass top and, inside that top, a ball of light was bouncing back and forth. He watched with total concentration as the ball of light bounced back and forth.
The deck hand, who was relived that the kite was no longer an issue, said, “Oh, that’s a Pong game. Here, I’ll show you how to play it.”
Kit watched with rapt attention as the deck hand manipulated the ‘paddle’ to send the ball of light at different angles. Then, he immersed himself into this fascinating new challenge. The repetitive nature of the game was exactly right for his limitations.
Soon, all three of us were playing together. Getting off the ship for the shore excursion in Mazatlan was cancelled. Kit was smiling. Kit was rocking back and forth over that glass table in sheer joy of moving that light. And Kit was responding – at least a little – to us.
Did it cure him? No, there is no cure. But it gave us an avenue to reach him. Kindergarten was another disaster – there were no ‘special schools’ for disturbed children at that time. And grade school was no better. He finally rebelled completely in middle school and refused to go at all. But, meanwhile, we had found a way to reach him: electronic games. The only way we could get him to participate at all in school was to promise him games and gaming consoles as rewards.
After Pong came the Atari. Hours of Pac Man, Donkey Kong, and a lot of other simple, repetitive games paid off. He could beat them easily and the demand for more more more games grew. With the advent of home computers, the Apple challenged him to learn how to use a keyboard and read. Those early games on the Apple were almost entirely text. Zork, Ultima, and others became the next family pastime.
The best result however, was when my husband got hooked on Mario Brothers. He and Kit would play that one for hours. In the kitchen, I could hear them shouting and laughing in the other room. Having discovered that Kit could be reached with games, I went on to teach him chess – and eventually gave up on trying to beat him. We added a miniature pool table, a pinball machine, and two pachinko game machines. The house was awash in gaming equipment – but the game consoles were still his first choice.
Other skill games, such as ‘Simon”, were also a big hit. And, long before rpgs were invented, Kit had us playing Dungeons & Dragons on graph paper. We were afraid to envision what his future might be. No formal education past 8th grade, no way to interact with other people without disastrous results, and no way to guarantee, as older parents, that we would be around to provide for him throughout his entire life.
When he disappeared from school, it was to disappear into the pool hall a block away. No one knew. He would get out of the car at the school entrance, walk dutifully up the stairs and through the doors – and then wait until our car was gone. When we were informed that we had a choice: force him to attend school or he would be taken away from us, we went to court. With that, Kit became a ward of the state, living in ‘homes’ for wayward youth. They also discovered that it was impossible to get him to attend classes, relate in a ‘socially acceptable’ manner with others, or pay attention to anyone or anything that did not interest him. We convinced the ‘house counselor’ to let us bring him a Nintendo console and a few action games to keep him out of trouble.
At the age of 17, we were informed that Kit could go into the military if he got a GED and had parental consent. He was eager to escape from the state homes and urged us to let him join the Navy. We hoped that the rigid standards of behavior and the impersonal discipline of a military boot camp would perhaps be beneficial. And of course we were wrong. After a tour of duty on a carrier during Desert Storm, Kit returned to a Navy base in the USA. He hated being cooped up in a barracks with ‘the others’ so he took leave and went to Los Angeles. At the end of his leave, instead of reporting back to duty, he got a job doing manual labor at a construction site in Los Angeles and decided to forget about the Navy.
Of course, the Navy did not forget about him! After he was tracked down and forcibly discharged by the Navy, he had nowhere to go but back to us. And his beloved games. Hours, days, and weeks, Nintendo, Nintendo DS, and eventually, PlayStation. We paid for a vocational training program for him to learn computer programming. It seemed like a perfect match: he could learn how to program games!
Of course, he learned programming easily: Basic, Perl, Java – he would write code for hours. And then he would write more code. Eventually, he told us he was dreaming in code. And every minute not spent programming was spent gaming. Kit was surviving in the world but he was not living in it. When we announced that we were moving to a very remote island in the Pacific, he was eager to go with us. No more programming. He walked away from a six-figure income. Kit’s only requirements were a place to sleep, a motorcycle to get around the island, his computer with a stack of games, and his PlayStation.
To make a very long and convoluted story short, Kit finally found peace. He is self-employed, earning a living making souvenirs for the tourists. No boss, no co-workers, and no distractions. He has his computers, game consoles, and games. He also found a wonderful woman who loves him and who understands his limits. They have two sons. He is teaching them to play video games. I am on Facebook each day playing a game with the seven-year-old. Kit is happy? I think so. And I am glad he found Pong.
December 1st, 2011 by keara22hi | 8 comments
Keara is also known in Home as DarthGranny. She is a wicked little old lady with a wild sense of humor.
Wonderful read Keara. Is this a work of fantasy or fact? Either way. I think its a great addition to HSM’s VAST library.
It’s all true, Gideon. Kit works alone making beautiful hand-blown glass jewelry. And he plays video games. Many games. Especially puzzle games and shooter games that are very fast with little or no dialog.
I owe a lot to Mr. Baer.
What a wonderful story. I am sitting on the edge of seat to hear the reast of the story inside Home. Thank you for sharing, Keara. Enjoyable read as always.
I had no idea when I wrote that story about my autistic friend how many people I knew in Home who had to deal with autism everyday. I didn’t know this about you Granny, it is good to hear Kit is doing so well and I am glad you decided to share this wonderful personal story with us. When I hear people putting Home down or video gaming down as something not worth while, I just shake my head because it has been shown to me time and again that for many people it has helped them get through difficulties either physical, mental or emotional. Hats off to you for showing me this yet again. Great read.
I also wanted to share with everyone that this tragedy that goes on daily in the USA: if a child refuses to go to school, the parents are held responsible -- even to the point of the parents being arrested and sent to prison. (yes, prison -- I am not joking about this). The state gave us a choice: force him to sit in school all day (even if he was kicking, screaming, swearing), or we will send you to jail, or you give him up to become a ward of the state. I lost my son in court to the state-run teen-age holding pens they called ‘shelters’ at the age of 14 because they would not acknowledge that he was ill. The fact that they could not get him to attend school was a moot point. We had been forced to legally sign over all our rights.
I am firmly convinced that the easiest way to reach a severely withdrawn child is through parent-guided video gaming together. There are excellent game opportunities out there now that did not exist 40 years ago when Kit came on the scene.
This is my second attempt to leave a comment; I was crying too hard the first time to type. Thank you for sharing such a moving story with us. I wish the people who laugh at those of us who love Home (and games) could all read your story with an open mind and heart. How could it not touch them? Thank you again.
Such a touching, personal article Keara, my heart goes out to Kit and your family for the tragic lives you’ve all had to lead to get to this point. I now know the “why” of your passion for gaming and wish Kit and his family the best.
What a truly wonderful story! I feel that many “games” can be much more than the sum of their parts, and bring people together much more than keep them apart. Video games can have a language all to them self and it sounds like you and Kit were able to communicate via that language and find common ground. Thanks for sharing this wonderful story!