Back in the 80's, Activision offered a great rewards program. Break a certain score on one of their Atari/Intellivision games, take a picture of the television to prove you did it and mail it to them, and they would send you a patch. This was pre-internet old school 'achievements'.
My 7-or-8-year-old self made it my life's mission to get a patch for my favorite game - Pitfall. I played the game a lot, I loved it. Pitfall Harry was the man, and the explorer's patch would be mine! I failed, a lot. But persistance paid off, and late one night - well past my bed time - I finally broke the score.
I paused the screen and tore the house apart but couldn't find our camera. Again, no cell phones! What a world! My mom would know right where it was, but she was at work. I resolved to stay up until she returned home and could photograph my gaming glory. I stood watch on the couch, alternating between staring at the door in anticipation of her return, and the giant tube television, convinced if I looked away too long, the score would disappear from the screen.
Alas, sleep defeated me that night, despite my efforts. My mom returned home to a sleeping child on the couch, the game controller still in my lap. And she did what mothers do, what many mothers and fathers have done since the dawn of late night video games and children falling asleep in the midst of a game session: She turned off the television and the console. A small parental act that had inadvertently undone all my hard work.
I played Pitfall afterward, but it wasn't the same. My near-success had soured me on the game, and soon my young mind had moved on to other games, other challenges. Pitfall remained on the shelf, unplayed for the most part. But I never forgot that patch.
I've told this story a handful of times to a handful of people over the years. And now, decades later, an unassuming package arrives in the mail for Christmas. And at long last...
