Where in the world did Carmen Sandiego go?

For a few years during my childhood, the only reason I willingly went to school was the Apple… For a few years during my childhood, the only reason I willingly went to school was the Apple IIe computer. Or, more exactly, the educational games available to play on that computer.

I became the man I am today because I made Turtle Tracks all the way down the Oregon Trail on my way to catch Carmen Sandiego.

If you remember the games, you remember the joy, and when I remembered the joy, I wanted it back.

Thus determined, I sought to buy “Where in the U.S.A. is Carmen Sandiego?” I forget how much it cost me, but it was less than $10 – a small price to pay for my childhood, especially since I got free shipping and handling.

At first, there was no joy – my computer runs Windows 2000, an operating system incompatible with my new software.

But as soon as I located a computer on which I could run my CD, I thought bliss was in the works.

Nope. Seems they got a hold of my childhood and improved the graphics – added bells and whistles. I don’t like my new, improved childhood.

It’s like having a long-time significant other show up with a surprise facelift. If you are genuinely attracted to your significant other, it is because of his or her face, not in spite of it. Maybe, in some impersonal, popular-opinion sort of way, it’s an improvement, but I’ll never see it as a good thing.

My friend and guitar mentor once noted that “more than two chords is just getting fancy.” Hyperbole was afoot, but his advocacy of simplicity still stands. “Pong” hasn’t ceased to be fun.

Not once, in my years of playing the game, did I ever say, “You know what this game could use?”

Perhaps, at the age of 21, I am a bit young to be weepy with nostalgia.

A few years back, a friend of mine from high school hosted a radio show at his college. He asked me to call in and go on the air. After my second guest appearance, I still had heard none of his show, save the parts I was in, so I stayed on the line after he switched me off. I got to listen to his co-host ask how old I was – he thought I sounded like I was 70 or so – and describe me as “grizzled.”

I may have a romanticized view of the golden years of Nintendo, but I don’t think my nostalgia is misplaced. Grandpa grew up with radio, and if he wants the good ol’ days, he can switch to the A.M. band. But trying to find a copy of “Excitebike” feels like walking to school, uphill both ways.

Commercial radio is still going strong more than 80 years after its inception, and television is nearly as long-enduring. But the media of my childhood – video games and computers – seem to have shorter and shorter life spans. And while an old radio may be outdated, obsolescence seems to be the standard of modern times.

It makes perfect sense – it’s easier to sell a new product when the old one is useless, so products must become obsolete. And while, through the graces of frenzied exhalation, I am able to continue playing my eight-bit Nintendo system, once it gives out on me, I doubt Nintendo will afford me the opportunity to replace it. I’ll have to buy a new system, or nothing at all.

So, what am I saying? We must not forget our history by rushing into the future, or something like that?

Damn, I am grizzled.

No, nothing like that. I just hope that the various manufacturers of the games I grew up with come to realize what countless “Oldies” stations have realized: There’s money to be made from selling people their childhood experiences.

There is still a demand for ’57 Chevys, though most cars made since then offer sundry fundamental improvements. For the same reason, I’m not interested in version 3.0 of my childhood.

Unfortunately, version 1.0 is obsolete.

Kampala is the capital of Uganda. Marty Flaherty knows this fact solely because of “Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego.” And they call that obsolete. E-mail him at mflaherty@pittnews.com, but do it fast, in case e-mail becomes obsolete.