I just finished playing ‘Pong’ with my father. I was showing him an old 3rd-party-pirate nintendo cartridge I had and talking about old and rare games since I like to collect them–and before I know it–he taked down an old Coleco ‘Telestar’ from somewhere in the garage!
It plays “tennis” (the name ‘pong’ is copyrighted by Atari), “Hockey” (The most screwed up hockey game I’ve ever played), and “Handball” (Imagine Pong with only one paddle.)
The first big obstacle was finding a TV to plug it into. The video signal is very strong on an old console like the Telestar–and with all these danged newfangled TV sets–their receivers aren’t used to hardware that packs a punch that big! But we had an older set that displayed it marginally well.
We spent about the next hour and a half on a single match to fifteen points. It was a Zen experience. Watching a pixel the size of your head float back and forth across the screen–blocking out everything else–understanding the ball, and the paddle…knowing nothing else. Every time your mind got too excited, or began drifting, you would lose a point.
some of the point-rounds lasted for as long as 10-15 minutes a pop.
For a long time, I carried a lot of resentment against my parents for…personal reasons relating to the way I grew up. But lately, I’d been trying to at least not be as hostile towards them, and treat them with a little more respect. Today–I was given that respect in return.
I noticed that my father was not playing just for nostalgia–not just to humor me–No…that competetive look in his face! He had every intention of -winning-. He respected me as his opponent.
So I went on to whup his ass–we had a big laugh about it–and now the console is sitting up in my closet–waiting for my next Zen challenger. 
Only through deepest concentration and spirit can one hope to truly reach the one and only true holy Pong! You are but dust on the holy joystick!
-Ashley