Map quest

 I was working out at the YMCA the other day and got involved in a conversation with a person at least 50 years younger than me (which would still make this person I was talking to about 20 years old).

It somehow came out that I was from the Philadelphia area. I was trying to give this person a mental point of reference about something we were discussing when I asked, "You know where Philadelphia is on the map, right?"

"Umm," came the reply. Then came a few passing seconds of silence, like I was offering up a trick question on an SAT exam. "Near the eastern part of Pennsylvania? About halfway up?"

I almost said, "Yeah, next to the Delaware River," but then I thought that this little tidbit might be overkill given the way this conversation was headed, so I just nodded "yes" and worried about the future of our children.

This geographic discussion got me to thinking about where we are in the world, and more precisely, do people actually know where we are located in the world? And especially now, with global events unfolding the way they are.

I've always been a map guy. I liked the folding maps we kept in our cars' glove compartments back in the day. When I got older and started traveling across state lines, I found comfort (and motels) in Rand McNally's life-saving road atlases. I still take an atlas with me on road trips, even though I've got all kinds of GPS stuff in my car.

I study maps in history books.

The mapboard.

 And, years ago, I played Avalon Hill strategy war games.

Whut?

Yep. Back in the 1960s, when I was about 10 or 11 or so and living in East Hartford, CT, a good friend of mine, Richard Bober, introduced me to Avalon Hill war games.

Briefly, the games are played on cardboard maps printed with hexagonal grids which determine movement. The playing pieces are little cardboard counters representing battalions and divisions, and they are printed with numerical movement, attack and defense factors. In addition, the mapboard includes rivers, mountains and cities, which can double defense factors.

Combat (and sometimes the weather) is resolved by the roll of a die, which are the games' random element. But, curiously, most of the games turned out with historically correct outcomes.

So, over the years, I bought Avalon Hill games left and right. I played D-Day, which taught me the geography of France. I played Afrika Korps, which taught me the geography of north Africa. I played Battle of the Bulge, which showed me Belgium and parts of Germany. I played Stalingrad, and later, The Russian Campaign, which showed me the geography of Russia and eastern Europe.

I even played Gettysburg, which showed me where Devil's Den was on the battlefield before I actually saw it for the first time.

Anyway, in Russia's current real-time onslaught of Ukraine, I know where Kiev and Kharkov are. I know where Lviv is, as well as Odessa and Brest. I know the Bug River, the Volga and the Dniper. I've crossed them hundreds of times with the roll of the die on my way to crushing Nazism.

I remember playing D-Day with Richard, who always seemed to win (hey, it was his game). In fact, I called him up the other day after going through my closets and finding a few of my old Avalon Hill games.

"Hey, Rich," I said with great anticipation. "I was looking through my closet, and you'll never guess what I found."

"Your Avalon Hill games," he instantly replied, stealing my thunder, and so the nostalgia tour began. 

I tried playing The Russian Campaign the other day (you can play the games solo, but what fun is there in beating yourself?), but after about an hour of trying to set up the counters on the battlefield and re-reading the directions on how to play the game, I gave up. Thin patience.

Avalon Hill was eventually bought by Hasbro in the 1990s and no longer publishes strategy war games. I think they've been replaced by computer games, which take no time at all to set up.

But I do have the memories. I reminisced with an old friend. And for what it's worth, I know where Kursk is.