Humans love blurbs, especially in this age dominated by electronic
devices constantly vying for our attention. To me a “blurb” can
be any short bit that offers a brief summary of something: a news
story, a company overview, a teaser for a book, a game description.
It offers enough information to garner our interest and invites us to
learn more...but usually we make a mental note of the blurb and move
on to more pressing matters in lives with too much to do and not
enough time. Often we overlook something quite worthwhile. In many
cases – especially regarding other people – we should take the
time to stop, look, and learn beyond the blurb.
Unfortunately this “blurb mentality” also helps us describe other
real-life humans. Like stereotypes, this provides an easy means of
summarizing the known aspects of a single, complex person from the
perspective of someone who just sees a few of those at any given
time. Sometimes these blurbs key into what people to do for a living,
with the appropriate connotations: “He works for Goldman Sachs,”
“She’s a third-grade teacher,” “Pete’s just a Stay at Home
Dad.” Sometimes they identify the person as belonging to a
particular “tribe,” a sad yet constant side effect of our society
that still, despite all its civilized trappings, depends on tribalism
to define its elements: “He belongs to the Church of All Worlds,”
“She’s a Democrat,” “He’s opposed to removing that statue
of General Robert E. Lee.” It’s nicer when people note
non-professional, non-tribal affiliations: “We take yoga classes
together,” “He runs games at the library,” “He was at that
live music event at the winery.” Usually we hear a combination of
these types of blurbs...and they never quite fully appreciate all the
complex aspects of a person. They function as descriptors, inviting
us to catalog them in our mental roster of people we know (and things
we know about them) in case we have occasion or motivation to get to
know them better. Much like the blurb on a book jacket, it offers a
cursory glimpse of what’s inside and an invitation to explore if
we’re interested; but we can never know unless we actually accept
that invitation and read the book.
For my first job – fresh out of a liberal arts college with a
creative writing degree – I worked for the local, weekly newspaper
in my hometown. Among my many duties was handling obituaries,
slightly more comprehensive blurbs that commemorate one’s passing
from existence. Most of the information came on forms faxed from the
local funeral home, though sometimes relatives submitted more
information or we called next of kin for additional details. They
followed a particular format I found quite remarkable when I look at
obituaries from other newspapers, perpetually short on space (or
bandwidth and server memory these days). They started with the
standard notes (birth, death, parents, residence) and ended with the
usual list of survivors and funeral arrangements. But in between
those formalities our weekly paper tried to offer a brief picture of
what these people had done with their lives: where they worked, which
organizations they belonged to, when they served in the military,
what their signature achievements were. These served – and continue
to serve, as I read even today – as brief windows into a people’s
lives. They cannot provide as complete a picture as having been
involved in their lives, but they’re more complete than a simple
label, a blurb, what we’d see in the headline, something like “John
Smith, 54, IBM Executive,” or “Jane Jones, 87, Teacher.” Too
often I read – and continue reading – about people I knew and
some I didn’t whom I would have liked to have known better.
I sometimes wonder how folks will remember me when the atoms in my
body cease to form the “Schweig” configuration (if they bother to
remember my fleeting presence and mediocre, ephemeral accomplishments
at all). “Yeah, he wrote some Star Wars game stuff for West
End.” “That was the guy who rejected my article.” “Remember
that scenario he ran where my character...?” I’m a bit more than
all that...everyone is. Some folks know I’m a husband and father, a
cat person, a game designer, a history aficionado, someone who likes
to celebrate his German-American heritage. I think about my paltry
game-creation achievements, my friends and family, and hopefully the
joy I’ve brought to others by introducing them to and playing
adventure games. I take heart that I’ve been involved in some
richly fulfilling aspects of people’s lives to some small degree.
I don’t run games at conventions too often these days, my duties as
a father pressing me into my “player” roll. But when I did, I
often wondered about the people gathered around the gaming table. Who
are they beyond the gamer identity they bring to the convention? What
does the guy who always tries to ruin the scenario do for a living?
Does the person who leads the group have kids? What about her life
makes this woman play surly Wookiees so well? Why do they come here
to play the games they play? Each person is a whole and complex
multi-layered individual, far more than I’ll ever experience at the
gaming table. Now and then I’ve gotten to know gamers a little
better. Sometimes it’s just remembering a name and a face (I’m
terrible at that to begin with), where they’re from, and which of
my pre-generated convention scenario characters they like playing
most (it’s often the dog from Heroes of Rura-Tonga...).
Other times it’s hearing about what they do for a living – a
lamentable fact of society in America, immediately judging each other
by what we do to earn money – or worse yet, that they’ve lost a
job or had other difficulties in their lives. Other times it’s
celebrating upon hearing that they’ve overcome challenges: finding
a new job, getting married, having children, overcoming disability
and illness, finding contentment with life. The best are when we can
simply relax over drinks or a meal and get to know each other in
greater depth.
As we descend into the abject chaos of the holiday season, take the
time to get to know someone beyond the “blurb” of who you think
they are. Take the time to appreciate the people whose work you
admire, encourage those whose work shows promise, take the time to
say thanks. Our atoms remain bound in this configuration for only so
long. We don’t know how long, so make the most of our time. Be
excellent to each other. Play. Rejoice. Game on.
A
Litany of Thanks
I would be remiss in failing to offer thanks for the many blessings I
enjoy in life. So here’s a host of things for which I’m thankful:
* A wife who loves, supports, and indulges me...and built me a space
bar in the basement next to the wargaming table....
* An intelligent son who enjoys my games and geeky pursuits and is
just developing a shared interest in history.
* A stable home, the means to live and find fulfillment in life, the
necessities (and a few luxuries) to navigate life.
* Many friends, acquaintances, and fans who have supported and
encouraged my game work.
* Many creators who have – through their work and/or friendship –
inspired, entertained, and uplifted me. They are too many to mention
here, but Frequent Readers have seen their names noted in past Hobby
Games Recce pieces.
* The mindfulness to stop, reflect, and acknowledge those aspects of
my life in the past, present, and future worthy of gratitude, lest I
take them for granted. And the awareness that I must work to help
others less fortunate who seek a safe, peaceful, and meaningful
existence in this world.
Those looking for my past, more traditional missives on Thanksgiving
can check these out:
* “Living Thanks”
