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The World of Georic 1989-Present

Sunday, December 16, 2012

(Twelve Days) #3 An Ode to Dave

Getting this one in just under the wire.  This year is going to be tough.

Last year I sent some heartfelt appreciation for my friend Charles, who got me hooked on role-playing. This year I'm kicking the nostalgia meter up to 11 and cover the man who got me into wargaming: Dave Baxter.

When I was a kid our neighborhood could be best described as heavily aging. Most neighbors had been living in the same houses for 25+ years at the time. Kids were not a large commodity. I luckily fell in with a bunch if the sandlot football/baseball group by junior high, but the majority of the kids early on were not exactly good apples, at least in the eyes of my mom.

Dave was different. He was four years older and our moms were good friends. He was also the only kid in the neighborhood whose parents actively encouraged them to play with their toys. I do not kid when I say one if the other kids in the neighborhood still has his 70s Star Wars toys with the boxes. He was forbidden from taking them out of the playroom, much less outside. Parents have always been strange.

Dave and I started with the two staples of red blooded American makes: War and Army Men. As a five year we ran down the streets with weaponry, me with a plastic M-16 without a stupid orange cap, and David with a classic wood/metal Garand. No one died, police were never involved, life went one.

The army men were far more involved. Depending on who "hosted" (scheduled playdates months in advance? Pshaw!. Our moms figured out who had more to do that day and the other one took the two of us.) changed our grade school level tactics. My house had some nice flower bed warfare and large open areas for the opposong horde to be gunned down. Dave had a sand pit dug right out the ground, so when I came over, big red wagon of forces in tow, he already had a complex system of trenches dug in. He also had a Navarone playset which kicked some serious ass.



Ultimately we moved onto Star Wars/GI Joe/Generic Jim. Death Star playsets, Cobra Hydrofoils, and generic helicopters going across the vast expanses of lawn.

HG Wells eat your heart out.

As much as others cite an appreciation of history, or years of modeling developing into historical wargaming, for me it was toy soldiers in all shapes and sizes.

Like all good things, this ended with a whimper rather than a bang. With the age gap, Dave was always in an different school. Despite an interest in the military that led both of us to join the Reserves, we went our separate ways. I would see him at Dreamscape from time to time (he's a big Batman fan), but despite still living a few doors down from my Mom's, I haven't seen him in years.

Short and sweet, thanks Dave, for playing with the little kid down the street.

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