My grandsons were taking turns with a video game when one of them stopped and began shaking the remote control. Then he tapped it gently. Nothing. Next he tapped it on the table. No response.
Then the ‘man the inventor’ gene kicked in and one of them used a small Phillips screwdriver to remove the lid and peek inside the battery slot. They looked like primitive soothsayers in search of clues as they thoughtfully poked and separated the internal wiring of a sacrificial offering. They took the two AA batteries out, then reinserted them and replaced the lid. Then, with lips jammed tight in apprehension, they pushed the ON button. Still nothing.
At that point, I looked up from my ‘reading the papers’ facade and asked, “What seems to be the problem, guys?”
“Battery’s dead. Shouldn’t be. We just put fresh ones in a couple of days ago. They were working yesterday.”
“Hmm, mind if I take a look?” I asked before catching the pre-teen glance and mild smirk that seemed to say, how would an old fart know anything about hi-tech gaming-hardware. But then, the years of my caring and loving kicked in and the oldest boy shrugged and said, “Sure Gramps. Why not?”
They fiddled with the gismo, removing the screw while I put on my wise-elder face and studied the elctronics guts. The two shiny batteries reminded me of organs…sleek, shiny organs in fresh dressed game…but I digress….
Just to let you know…I love these guys and have no desire to put them down or show them up. But I did want to help fix their problem. I might be playing the ‘out of it’ old fart, but that wouldn’t be the first time, like when they let me play touch football in the backyard with them or when I whiff at whiffleball.
I popped the batteries out, licked my tongue on the positive posts and dropped them back in place. I pushed the on button and Bingo…game on.
I got a quiet stare from the guys¬—as if I’d shone them how to make a fire by rubbing sticks together. Somebody has to be the custodian of throwback technology.
Retired trainer, and writing instructor, Joe Novara lives in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Writings include novels, short stories, a memoir and various poems, plays, anthologies and articles. Read more at https://freefloatingstories.wordpress.com/
