Companion Guide to Episode 25.0

25 Episodes ago

It happened one day when I was checking to see if the newest episode of my favorite monthly podcast had been uploaded.  It hadn't and I think it was then and there that I got the idea to do a podcast of my own.  If they can do it why can't I? I could talk about what I wanted to hear, as often as I wanted (what was up with the once a month thing?  Why not every week?)  So between my nephew and plenty of self teaching, I was able to get my podcast legs underneath me in a relatively short amount of time.  I still remember those early episodes, chock full of uncertainty and that "will you please give a listen sir if you get time" type of voice.  I knew I wasn't going to set the world on fire and that was fine because I had no desire to do so.  I simply thought of it as a different kind of game.  One in which a trident of news, historical research and game play analysis would meet in an public arena.
   

Let the show begin

Once the pilot episode was launched, I really had no clue as to how many shows I wanted to do or at want point it would retire and that is still pretty much the case.  After crashes and incorrect uploads, sub par audio and hours upon hours of editing, I still have a lot to learn.  I still get at least one person a week asking if there is an mp3 or itunes version and believe me I wish there was, that would mean the ability to reach and please so many more listeners.  But, alas, it is yet to be.  The meager amount of research I have done regarding the matter has informed me that it pretty much cannot happen without paying somebody something and from the outset one of my tenents was that this endeavor not cost me anything other than a bit of time.  Not to say there will never be an mp3 version, but i'm honestly in no real hurry to offer it.

Who is that podcast guy?

My interest in all things military has prevailed since I can remember, from setting up soldiers upon the floor to war movies, to books about various battles (I still remember sitting with that giant Civil War book "Campfires and Battlefields" in my lap and looking with glazed eyes at the numerous renderings of battle scenes).  All the summer days i had spent racing through the woods in some imaginary ambush.  Then one day my brother, who would come visit on weekends, had brought something with him.  It was a descent sized box with a wonderful illustration of what i don't remember but most likely some battle that matched one of the myriad scenes that oft graced my imagination.  I watched him sit for such long periods of time, absorbing some mysterious, code like source of information, then unfold a certain flat historical world and apply his rites of initiation to the maneuvering of tiny cardboard squares across it.  I was as intrigued as I was mesmerized.  He seemed to be operating a kind of intricate, toy like, analogue machine and I wanted to do likewise.  Of course I was far too young at the time and those rule books were beyond anything I could even feign having the slightest bit of understanding.  But the seed had been planted.

The first game I truly remember enjoying was Battle Hymn.  I had been shipped up to my grandfather's for a week or two one summer and was thumbing through an Avalon Hill catalog.  So I make the call and ask for Ambush.  They were sold out but had Battle Hymn, so I took a chance and the exhilaration that coursed through my body when the thing showed up is no different then when a package shows up today.  I still get that same, child like excitement. 

I had grown up in St. Louis and been shuffled to Festus Missouri before I could even have a chance to consider what fifth grade would entail.  There, I spent many a long week throughout those "formative years" with strange baby sitters as my parents traveled cross country on long trips in an 18 wheeler.   The games helped keep my occupied, helped pass the time as did hockey.

Fast forward to Columbia Missouri where I tacked on another 2 years to an already three year long college resume.  I stuck my toe in graduate school and then somehow fell backwards for most of my mid to late twenties.  I had tried my hand at writing and was able to squeeze out a novel amidst a bushel of short stories but alas, they sit in a box, amidst other boxes back in St. Louis, silently awaiting my some day return.  When I was again finally able to plant my feet firmly on the ground, I was 30 and feeling a bit confused.  10 years later, I found myself no longer employed in the warehouse where I had sacrificed 13 years of my life and that same familiar feeling of confusion remains, as does the games, as does hockey, and a certain girl whom I reluctantly ended up chasing to New Orleans where I currently reside.

The shelves of games are here with me, physical memories of a past, and inspirational instruments of a future yet to be realized (I will design my own game one day) and I wouldn't give 'em up for the world. 

So that's that... 

These days, I have developed a particular kind of calender for myself, one that relates to a particular recording of miniature exploits and their relation to history.  It registers time in weeks, and offers me a chance to reach out to a community of individuals who like me are hooked on those boxes and their cardboard contents and perhaps like me hear that faint echo somewhere in the depths of their mind whispering, "Keep Gaming".

Thanks for reading.