The year was 1982 and I was a nine year old addict.

Money jar

Maybe undiagnosed A.D.D. kept me from realizing I was getting in trouble but as far as I remember I was perfect. I did all the things other kids were getting in trouble for, but I just don't think I ever got caught, with one possible exception. I chose to steal from my older brother, the meanest of my eight siblings.

I drained the coin jar he had been amassing (for years). It was right there, out in the open. I was addicted to video games and, come on, they weren't going to feed themselves so I did what had to be done. Every day I'd grab my fill and walk over to the local arcade to get a fix. The flashing lights and hypnotic sounds were mesmerizing.

My crime spree was not well concealed, however, and he found out soon enough. It was only circumstantial evidence that pointed to me as the culprit and I don't remember what my punishment was. I remember him being really pissed though.

But was I really to blame here? I think not. I had a pathological condition that compelled me to do it.

Although its been years since I kicked that vicious habit I still remember the rush and sweet sound of the clanking of change in my bulging pockets. If you didn't grow up during the Golden Age of arcade games just substitute your drug of choice and you will understand.