NOTE: The following Vintage Berry Wine column was never published; it was written in February 1993, after the author found out how addictive her son, Zach’s, electronic toys could be. Zach was then eight.

The expression “if you can't beat ‘em, join ‘em,” has been echoed many times, for various reasons. I have recently found myself uttering the words, and what's more, enjoying being a participant.

For years, I thumbed my nose at the idea of going into a place, generally referred to as an arcade, and playing video games. I could not see the sense in throwing money away on such trivial pursuits, and I knew such activities weren't for me. I even questioned the sanity of those who could spend hours, entranced, before the machines.

Many has been the time, while walking through a mall, that my children have requested a trip to the arcade and although I may have given in a few times, I didn't do it very often. I certainly didn't stand around to see what the attraction was, and if I did, it was with a rather “all right, machine, hurry up and turn off so we can get out of here” attitude. I just couldn't see the significance of standing before a video game trying to earn points by shooting this missile or clubbing that foe.

As an avid anti-violence supporter, I still agree with that last statement. However, there are, I am finding, video games that can be played that involve very little violence (although these are the exception).

And how, you may ask, did I come to this conclusion, since I've rarely ever set foot in an arcade? Well, suffice to say I've been converted. Once staunchly opposed to video games, I'm finding they can offer a pleasant diversion. The thanks goes to my son Zachary, and our little friend Chad, who showed us both just how much fun he had while playing something called a “Gameboy.”

Earlier this summer, I found myself watching Chad playing with his toy, and I soon found myself eager to give the thing a try. It wasn't long before I was hooked – quickly trying to push the buttons so I would get ahead in the game; vocalizing my discontent when I wasn't able to do so, and finding there is some enjoyment to be had in video games after all. We were on the highway at the time, and Chad had brought along the game to keep himself occupied. It wasn't long, though, before his dad remarked that he may not get it back from me.

More recently, Zack was in school and I had a few minutes to relax and unwind. Picking up his video game, I sat out on the porch in the sunshine, trying to see how dexterous I could be while playing a game that builds walls out of falling blocks. The kids, when they arrived home on the bus, I thought vaguely, would surely laugh to see me sitting there with his game. But I hardly noticed – so engrossed was I in building walls. I reluctantly put it aside a few minutes later, to chat with my children about their school day. (Their thoughts were still on the electronic toy, asking me how many points I had, and what level I was at, and so on. They were, I had predicted rightly, quite amused to see their mother playing with a toy.)

The fun that was enjoyed by both Chad and Zack has been responsible for my actually playing a video game in an arcade, too. I must admit I now know why so many people lose their quarters in such places. There's just something exciting, and definitely pleasurable, about moving the knobs, pushing the buttons, and seeing the figures move about on a video screen. While I haven't entirely figured out what the attraction is, I'm more understanding now of the kids who hang out in arcades, or spend spare time with an electronic toy in hand. I no longer look down on such activities, and plan to partake from time to time myself.

In fact, during the weekend, I'm sure I'll have enough time to kick back my heels and relax. Now, I know I could probably finish that novel I started reading awhile ago, or do some much needed studying, or maybe I could put on some soft music and just sit and think about absolutely nothing at all.

I can just see it now – such a peaceful scene. But wait, what's that – over there on the buffet? Could it be that Zack has somehow forgotten to take his Gameboy to his father's, during weekend visitation? Why, it certainly appears that way. Well, I guess I could finish that novel later today, and the studying can best be done at bedtime … just give me a few minutes with the toy, that's all I want!

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THE deaths of 12 miners in the Sago Mine disaster and then four additional miners in other mines made international headlines. But below the radar, unemployment and uncertainty in the U.S. coal mining industry leak an invisible poison, claiming silent and stoic victims in the frustration and rage of domestic violence.

I know because I was one of them. I was married to a coal miner for 10 years, from 1980 to 1990. In 1991, I moved to Buckhannon, not far from the Sago Mine, to be managing editor of The Record-Delta. As a coal miner's wife, the quality of my week depended on how much coal the mines produced. In 1982, my husband lost his job, and we nearly lost our home, located not far from the site of the Jan. 21, 1866, Newburg mine explosion in which 39 miners died. My husband's verbal abuse of me soon turned to physical abuse.

As the number of coal miner jobs in West Virginia has decreased, domestic violence has increased. By 2004, employees in the West Virginia coal industry numbered a little more than 20,000, less than half the 1983 figure. And the number of domestic violence incidents documented numbered 14,489 in 2004, up from 1,232 in 1983, according to the West Virginia State Police's Uniform Crime Reports.

Ann Shaver, professor of behavioral sciences at Fairmont State University, recognized a connection between unemployment and domestic violence as early as the 1980s. Students from coal families confided to her fears about the violence that "seemed to be beginning or escalating in their families."

This is in no way an indictment of the coal miner or the unemployed. Many of my closest friends are from mining families. At Sago, my family lost a good friend in miner Terry Helms. But it is testimony to the ripple effects of unemployment. And it is a warning to Ford, Sago and other company families.

Experts are only now recognizing what a critical component unemployment can be in domestic violence. Unemployment doesn't cause abusive behavior but exacerbates stress, relationship tensions and insecurity about failing to be "a true man in our society," says Jacquelyn Campbell, a professor at Johns Hopkins University School of Nursing. She has studied domestic violence for about 25 years. Her 2003 study involving "intimate partner violence" and the abuse or murder of 563 women in 11 cities revealed unemployment was the only significant social, or demographic, risk factor.

Unemployment makes it four times as likely a woman will be killed, Campbell found. In overall risk factors, unemployment was second only to a man owning a gun as risks for family violence. Until recently, law enforcement didn't consider a man's employment status when conducting investigations.

In October, at the 13th Annual West Virginia Children's Justice Task Force in Charleston, Mark Wynn, a decorated Nashville, Tenn., police officer, advised police handling domestic disputes to ask about employment. That way, they can assess how deadly the episode of family violence might become. Unemployment, he says, is "a possible aggravator" and a "double whammy" that exacerbates other issues such as alcohol use, marital woes or depression.

History shows that the life of a coal mining family follows the ups and downs of King Coal. In 1976, West Virginia had nearly 65,000 employees on the mining payroll, its highest number during my lifetime. In 1980, my husband was employed in a union mine as a section foreman, earning about $40,000 a year. Life was good, and my worries were few. By 1981, however, he was making much less working in a non-union mine. As a journalist, I reported facts and figures about the cycle of unemployment within the coal industry. But as the wife of a coal miner, I knew what happened only too well when a man came home with a pink slip.

My husband joined the growing number of unemployed coal miners. And I joined the growing number of women suffering domestic violence. We were among the many mining families who stood in long lines at the Newburg Senior Center in Preston County for free food, including "Reagan cheese." My husband was stressed and depressed at being unemployed. He often took it out on me.

By 1983, the state's unemployment rate hit 18 percent, nearly double the national figure, largely the result of layoffs in the coal industry due to changes in regulation, technology and profits. The industry employed 42,483. According to the West Virginia State Police, the number of reported domestic violence incidents rose from the 1,232 cases in 1983 to 2,565 cases in 1989 - a year when West Virginia saw the biggest fall in the number of people employed in the coal industry. Police say most domestic violence incidents go undocumented.

Domestic violence in West Virginia has deadlier consequences than in the rest of the nation. From 1993 to 1999, only 12 percent of the nation's homicides were related to domestic violence, according to the Department of Health and Human Resources. But in West Virginia, that figure is almost 40 percent. The State Police say a domestic homicide occurs every 14 days - a figure that has held steady since the late 1970s.

In Upshur County, the Sago disaster adds stress that can exacerbate domestic violence. "Tensions run high. People become more irritable, and then you have explosions," says Harriet Sutton, director of HOPE Inc., a women's shelter in neighboring Marion County that has seen increases in domestic violence after layoffs.

In West Virginia, the unemployment rate has decreased to 5.3 percent in 2004, or 41,900 people out of work, according to the Bureau of Employment Programs. But the federal Bureau of Economic Analysis, a part of the U.S. Commerce Department, says unemployment is a much greater issue in Appalachia, especially in central counties of West Virginia and Kentucky, compared to the rest of the country.

Shannon Wamsley's husband, Alton, survived the Sago mine disaster, one of 16 men who rode out of the mines just before the explosion. She said the families are very fortunate that International Coal Group has provided jobs and counseling. But she - like everyone - is worried about the long-term effects, especially among those who are too spooked by the tragedy to return to work.

"They can have all this pent up emotion inside of them," she said, "which turns to anger and frustration because you have to blame something."

Daleen Berry is a journalist in Morgantown who is writing a memoir on her life as a survivor of domestic violence.

NOTE: Reprinted with permission from Charleston Newspapers (West Virginia). This op-ed originally appeared February 9, 2006, on page 5A. (Copyright 2006)

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Samantha, whom I affectionately call “Sam-I-am,” after the character in the 1960 classic Green Eggs and Ham, by one of my favorite authors, told me that students are wearing black and red to school today in honor of Dr. Seuss.

In pursuit of the poetry that has often eluded me, and to help Samantha know just what is possible, this poem is dedicated to her – and to children everywhere who struggle to make the most of what they have, even when what they have isn’t much.

It’s my personal take on that great inspirational book, Oh, the Places You'll Go!, with my sincerest apologies to Theodor Seuss Geisel (and my beloved Professor Sherman)!

My Seussism
When life gets too scary
to face on your own,
just try to remember
you’re never alone.

If hiccups and walnuts
and things quite absurd,
get in your way, why,
just try to be self-assured.

Your thoughts and ideas
will serve you so well,
that everyone who sees you
won’t even be able to tell...

That when you’re grinning
with head held up high,
inside you’re quaking,
ready to die.

So in the long run
hang on for the ride.
Grab everything life offers,
even if it’s not all pie!

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