At the beginning of the new year, we decided to start playing cards. Rummy, a family game called Spite and Malice, and a dice game we call, creatively, 6 Dice (although I think there’s a more common, universal name for it).
Well, we are a week or so in and we’re all tied up 2-2 on the rummy scoreboard.
Getting in Touch with My Roots
I grew up playing cards with my mom’s side of the family. I remember playing rummy with my Daddy Mac and Momma Mac. I remember lying on the floor of my grandparents’ cabin playing Concentration (you know, turning all the cards over and trying to match pairs).
We went through a long penny-poker phase. Six or more of us would sit around playing 5 card draw and stud and so forth. No Texas Hold’em back then.
We had so many fun conversations, and we ate pounds of chips and nuts and cookies. And drank gallons of sweat tea and variou shades of soda (no beer drinking back then).
It was a blast.
Putting Down New Roots
You and I are starting to pull our family away from screens and onto games and doing other things that are nominally electric. The closest to that is playing ‘Trouble’. The mechanics there are simply the pushing of that little bubble in the middle of the board.
You seem determined–and I need to help you lead out in this–to make sure we don’t become a bunch of people sitting and staring separately at screens. It’s trite and over-said these days, but it bears mentioning. You and I can get sucked into the vortex of the retina display (well, yours with your iPad while I slum it with my Kindle).
Goofing off over a game of cards does my soul a world of good. I’m glad you brought it up. I’m glad we bought some brand new Bicycles.
Now, I need to shore up my skill and start showing you how to play the game, lady.