What was fun then...

Many resources that attempt to help individuals determine a career in which they might excel, or a hobby that might bring them great enjoyment, suggest that people investigate what they liked as a child to obtain clues to what they might enjoy NOW. If you have never STOPPED doing something since you were a child, of course, that might be a pretty big clue.

So recently I have been investigating my favorite childhood pastimes. But "sleeping" doesn't seem to hold much promise in terms of hobbies or career paths, nor does "listening to Bill Cosby albums" or "avoiding nature like the plague."

The Hero's childhood activities held a little more foreshadowing as to what he would enjoy doing as an adult. At a young age he would take things out into the yard and whale on them with a hammer, baseball bat, whatever happened to be handy. His mother, while not entirely comfortable with this endeavor or with where it might lead, nevertheless believed that he would learn SOMETHING from it. She fervently hoped so, anyway.

I have asked him if these experiences led to his learning how things worked, such as a radio. "Oh, no," he says. The enjoyment, and the entire point of the exercises, was merely to relish being the agent of destruction without getting into trouble.

Clearly, such experiences prepared him well for the present: living in an old, historic home with -- as he believes -- hidden structures behind every wall, crying out to be liberated by someone with finely tuned hedge-hammer skills. But as in his childhood, it continues to be the smashing part that interests him the most, as has been chronicled previously in this blog. Several times. 

There was one activity in my childhood that I thought might give some insight into what I might enjoy pursuing now. I spent hours making up stories for the little people in the Fisher-Price house, farm, school, village, etc. Inevitably, these stories involved important activities that imitated real life, such as going to work, going to school, opening and closing the door to the Fisher-Price barn repeatedly to hear the simulated MOOOOOooo of a cow, etc. (Significantly, however, these people never smashed things. NEVER.)

So how might I parlay this particular childhood activity into anything useful today?

Well, it sounds remarkably like Sims, the simulated life video game. Conducting my research on Sims -- which could  be an interesting pastime -- I ask the Hero, "Is SimCity different from Sims?" 

Yes, he says. With Sims you direct the people, their immediate surroundings, and their personal relationships, careers, etc. With SimCity -- here his excitement is evident -- you control the economics of a WHOLE CITY.

"I don't think I'm ready for economic controllership," I say. "Maybe I'd better start simpler." Say, SimPets. Or SimInsects. SimRocks, maybe. Yes, I'm pretty confident I could handle rocks. Rocks, after all, are not as sophisticated as Weebles, whose roly-poly world I successfully managed as a six-year-old, despite the fact that I had only the Camping Weebles, camping being a subject about which I knew nothing then and little more at present.

The story line during Weebles play varied, but often involved a Dad Weeble who had a warped sense of humor. Sometimes the family would get the car and camper all packed and ready to go, and the children (admittedly, not very bright children) would ask excitedly, "Where are we gonna stay tonight, Dad? Holiday Inn??"

And the father with a warped sense of humor would laugh in a not-so-nice way and say, "Sure, sure! Our very own Holiday Inn!"

"Our very own...AAAAAGGGHHH! Not the camper! Noooooo..."

I haven't yet become a Sims player, but if I do, you can bet that the father with the warped sense of humor will get his due. Particularly if the economy ever falls into my hands.