Seasoned ‘Pinball Wizard’ will live forever

In this world gone crazy with drone strikes and threats of chemical warfare, here’s something to ponder. What’s a Boardwalk without its pinball palace?
In terms of straight-up awesomeness, Santa Cruz in 1965 was a Mecca for a teen-aged girl from Colorado. Like a state fair on steroids, the Boardwalk offered everything you’d find at the world’s greatest carnival – plus a beach! It was utter utopia. The sights and sounds of Santa Cruz in the mid-60s, a time still standing at the cusp of innocence, was the stuff dreams (at least mine) were made of.
Flash forward a few years. In 1972, I began dating a nice young man. That first summer we took a leisurely weekend drive up the coast from San Francisco where he was then living. As typically happens along that northern California coastline in summer, the fog was thick and the air was chilly. At lunchtime we found a modest diner on the water that catered to locals and hardy men whose small fishing boats bobbed at the shoreline wharf outside.
We ate clam chowder that came to us thick and rich and chunky with pieces of succulent clams. The atmosphere was perfectly romantic given the swirling mists outside the large windows. After lunch my travel companion excused himself and headed toward the restrooms in back.
I waited, enjoying the atmosphere from our table. I waited, thinking about the miles still to drive that day. And I waited, wondering if I would ever see this guy again.
Finally, gathering my things, I went to investigate. As I rounded a corner, a surprising sight greeted me. It was my guy, completely engrossed in a game of pinball. Well.
It occurred to me I didn’t know as much about this man as I thought. A serious, young engineer in the aerospace industry, here was a side I’d never expected. Observing his game, he had the moves of someone who knew his way around a pinball machine. And as far as he was concerned, his new girlfriend was about a million miles away.
He eventually wrapped up his play, and we were off. But that day I’d learned of another side of this young man.
Marriage, kids and grandchildren have come along in the four decades since that day on the coast. And not too long ago, he began talking about pinball machines. About how people were finding the old machines and refurbishing them and selling them to other pinball enthusiasts. I’m afraid I greeted this news with something approximating, “Humph.” Yes, I know. My enthusiasm was contagious.
Eventually he located some machines he liked, and he went to take a look. I stayed home. I figured my tagging along would be akin to dragging my husband along to a quilting exhibit. It simply wasn’t my cup of tea.
He returned, enthused about one of the machines he found. We chatted about it a bit, and a few days later he bought it. I wasn’t home when the machine was delivered. (And may I just say they look A LOT bigger in a home than they do at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk arcade. Not to mention they are pretty dang loud.)
Recently our two sons-in-law (who love the pinball machine) took my husband to an actual pinball museum (who knew?!!) in Alameda where they had quite a day of play. I mean, what a deal! Adults can play all day for a mere $15. Can’t beat that.
So these days I hear a lot of the Batman theme song going on around here (yes, it’s a Batman pinball machine). And I confess to hitting the earplugs now and then. But hey – keeps him off the streets, right?
And the greatest thing I’ve seen since this behemoth contraption entered our household? A couple of small stools he keeps tucked under the machine. That’s because these days our little grandchildren can’t wait to visit “Poppy’s Pinball Machine” and take him on.
No, old Pinball Wizards never die. They are simply reborn, coming around again, teaching pinball to the spirited little citizens of our future.