It’s summer, the favorite time of year for kids, teachers, and vacationers. While it’s not my favorite season (autumn gets the gold from me), summer is a source of many childhood memories. I grew up in the Houston area, but my extended family resided in West Texas. This meant at least one week every summer where we would load up our minivan, I’d plop fresh batteries in my Game Boy Color, and we’d trek 9-10 hours across the second-largest state in the Union.
My grandparents on both sides lived only a few miles from each other. While we would often bunk at my maternal grandmother’s house, we’d spend afternoons with my dad’s side of the family. As a young boy obsessed with video games, this was heaven; my paternal grandfather was an absolute wizard on the NES.
My grandpa had suffered from severe arthritis in both hands, limiting the things he could do when he got older. After he’d retired, grandpa picked up the newfangled “Nintendo” all his grandkids kept raving about. As fate would have it, an NES controller fit perfectly in his hands, so he’d often fill his time playing the must-have games of the era. Titles like The Legend of Zelda, Contra, and Super Mario Bros. 3 would light up the small TV in his den, and during the days we’d visit him, his grandchildren would cover the floor of that room, gaping in awe at his prowess.
Grandpa was incredible. He was the only person I knew who could beat Contra without putting in the Konami Code for 30 lives. (One time, he managed to hit the credits without dying once.) He could beat The Legend of Zelda in less than an hour. He knew where all the secrets in Super Mario Bros. 3 were located. But most impressive of all, he absolutely dominated Zelda II: The Adventure of Link.
Zelda II gets a bad rap. Compared to the rest of the franchise, it’s a misfit. It opts for experience points. It’s a sidescroller. And it’s hard. Really, really hard. It is most notorious for its difficult combat, esoteric puzzles, and confusing dungeons (known as “palaces” in this title).
But Grandpa made it look easy.
He could breeze through the entire game without getting a game over. He knew where all the hidden 1-Ups were (yes, this entry has lives), he could get all the heart containers, and he had the palaces memorized, even the ever-intimidating Great Palace at the end of the game. The grandkids joked that Nintendo Power would call Grandpa to help them with Zelda II. It was truly amazing to watch him make child’s play of a game that would kick our kiesters three ways from Sunday.
One summer stands out to me more than any other. The summer before I turned 8 years old, while we were saying our goodbyes to the West Texas family, Grandpa pulled me aside. He handed me something small and rectangular, about the size of a piece of bread. It caught a glint of light as it passed from his hands to mine: a golden Nintendo cartridge. He asked me if I’d like to borrow his copy of Zelda II for the summer. I was ecstatic. I enthusiastically thanked him, looking forward to the difficult but rewarding digital adventure July and August held for me.
I looked at that cartridge hundreds of times on the long, full-day ride, racking my brain to remember all the secrets, palace layouts, and tricks Grandpa had shown me. When I got back home that evening, I ran up my stairs, plopped in the cartridge, fired up the NES, started a new file… and promptly died. And died. And died again. The silhouette of Ganon laughed at me over and over, mocking my mediocre gaming skills.
But I kept at it. I got better bit by bit. And I had a secret weapon.
Grandpa wrote me a letter every week after I got home, asking how I was doing, how my school break was going, and (most importantly to me) coaching me through Zelda II. We exchanged letters the rest of the summer: I would update him on where I was in the game and ask him questions, and he would offer tips, short walkthroughs, and advice on what to do next. He even hand-drew maps of the palaces (from memory, I might add) to guide me through.
It was an incredible summer. With Grandpa’s help and the unbreakable will of a seven-year-old, I eventually defeated Dark Link and saw the credits. I remember asking my parents to borrow their film camera (the type that printed the picture immediately) to take a picture of the ending screen. That photo went in the mail that afternoon, and my grandpa wrote back a few days later congratulating me on the accomplishment.
Unfortunately, that summer would be the last I spent playing games with Grandpa. He passed away at the beginning of the next summer after a brief battle with lung cancer. I kept the letters and hand-drawn maps for years and years until time sadly took its toll on them and they fell to pieces. However, I still have those memories of that unforgettable summer traversing through Hyrule, trying my best to save the cursed princess with Grandpa’s wisdom guiding me.
I play through Zelda II at least once a year. It’s not a great game, and there are objectively better games I could be playing. However, the nostalgia of that summer keeps me hooked and coming back for more. Now that I have kids of my own, I understand why Grandpa kept coming back to it as well. Whenever they boot up our Wii and I see that pixelated sword against a starry night and hear the digitized harp plucking out the opening arpeggio, I’m filled with the warmth of that summer of adventure, challenge, and victory. I see that same gleam in my children’s eyes, and I feel connected to Grandpa in a new way.
