I was in fourth grade when I embarked on my first official journey.
My dad blessed me with the pivotal invention needed for an excited 10-year-old’s journey. It wasn’t a sharpened pocket knife or a hand rifle. No, this journey called for light. As the older sibling, my bottom bunk was perfect for the installation of a covered lightbulb (the kind you hang on the hood of a car when doing mechanical work). This covered light bulb allowed me to continue my journey, regardless of what time it was. This one would be through the region of Kanto, followed by Johto, Hoenn, Sinnoh, Kalos, and most recently, Unova. Pokemon was the avenue I played out my adventure in, and my dad’s invention provided me a way to play it into the wee hours of the night, even if I wasn’t supposed to.
Something as simple as playing through Pokemon Yellow has taught me many lessons.
First, we must tend to both our strengths and weaknesses. It was my first trip through the Elite Four and my strongest team member was a Primeape, who had evolved from a Mankey I caught at level four during my first hour of the game. He was strong and quickly took out anyone who challenged me.
That was until I came against the old woman Agatha, the ghost type user. My Primeape, though incredibly strong (much more than the rest of my team), was a fighting and normal type, which meant all of its moves were unable to affect ghost types. As I witnessed my entire team fight against Agatha’s ghost army, I knew I made one fatal mistake—I trusted in my Primeape and not my other team members. You see, if we only tend to our areas of strength, we will never learn to overcome our areas of weakness. As I left the Elite Four, I knew I needed to invest in strengthening the rest of my team to compensate for my weaknesses, because focusing on my strengths was not enough to get the job done. My first Pokemon taught me that true strength means being able to compensate for areas of weakness.
But boyhood went beyond hours spent pouring into video games. There were much more important things… Like watching cartoons.
Every Saturday night, I would sit expectantly, waiting for the weekly airings of Toonami on Cartoon Network. Images of characters like Goku, Naruto and the members of the Justice League filled my mind. Every week they would face a new challenge or threat. Many times, the new enemy would seem completely insurmountable. How on earth can they beat this guy? I’d wonder. Yet, week after week, someone found a way.
Heroes were always marked by an ability to overcome. No matter how much their back was pressed against the wall, they refused to give up. Despite being bloody and battered, they fought. Everyone’s cause was different, but their resolve was the same. As a little boy, I yearned to emulate their strength. I learned that giving up was never an option. No matter what life brings or how weak we feel, there is often a level of inner resolve that pushes us to keep going, even when we want to give up.
These two simple aspects of boyhood are still written on my heart today. I may not stay up late on my bottom bunk playing video games, but I still find myself facing weaknesses I need to overcome. When insurmountable obstacles and enemies cross my path, I wonder if I have the strength to overcome them. The sense of adventure I had traveling through a Pokemon region has been replaced with four-hour work trips, drives to friends' weddings and plane rides to see family. Yet, the sense of wanting to explore, meet new people and see new things started as a boy.
The reality I have adopted—that life is hard, and I can overcome its trials—began way before college bills or broken relationships became my reality.
As I look back, I see how boyhood has prepared me for manhood, but I also realize that the boy inside me has never really died. I still spend time learning about the latest Pokemon news. My heart comes alive when I see my favorite characters on TV shows overcome formidable foes. And, when I come across issues like weaknesses or trials, I think back to a character like Ash Ketchum or Ichigo Kurosaki. I remember then that if they overcame, so can I. Boyhood may be over, but it hasn’t died. I’ve become a man, but the lessons and joys of boyhood are inside—they are still celebrated, and they are still me.
In the end, childhood is one large preparation for adulthood, just a lot more fun. When we get stuck in the struggles of adulting, we need only to look back at the little boy or girl who yearned to grow up and be strong. That little boy or girl is now grown up, and they are strong. We are strong, and we can overcome.
