My best childhood friend, Colleen, and I would spend hours at her family's kitchen table playing Gin Rummy. Col was a shameless card cheat--peeking and stacking the deck and cackling in delight when she won--fairly or unfairly, it was all the same. I was challenged to thwart her nefarious ways and it all became a game within a game. We are best buddies to this day, but believe me, I know the meaning of playing my cards "close to the chest"!
And now, my family will tell you that I am a sicko game player--Scrabble, crosswords, Tabu, cards, puzzles, you name it. I love to play games. I can (and have) spent many happy hours waiting at airports, in flight, on car trips, in the chemo cocktail lounge, playing games to pass the time. My son Michael regularly kicks my butt in Lexulous now-- my daughter Casey prefers to wax me in Spanish Scrabble. I consider it a personal victory that they both play games with their friends and me.
But, ten years ago I discovered Mahjjong and, Sistah, it was all over. Mahjjong (spelled as many ways as it is played) is an ancient Asian game played around the world by Asians, Jewish women, military wives, business networkers and my friends (all of the above). The game is played with hefty tiles which are used like cards to build winning hands (according to the RULES, Colleen!) and engages all the senses: the smooth feel of the tiles, the sound of their clicking as they are discarded, the sight of the Asian characters on the tiles, and the smell and taste of the noshes always served during play. Okay, okay, so food is not part of the game, but it is definitely part of the tradition.
I introduced Shelby to the game, and true to her nature, she now knows more about Mahj than just about anyone and is on a first name basis with the experts in the field. There are cruises and tournaments and neighborhood games--Shelby has done all of them, and won at all of them. We play regularly with friends and, when desperate, play our own highly irregular two handed version. We have taught 22 newcomers and secured our own special circle of players (taught correctly, may I say) who have raised both the competitive bar and the laughter quotient! Needless to say, Mahj is an illness all it's own.
And to what use? Idle entertainment for someone with too much time on her hands? A waste of time? Useless pursuit? Or perhaps something else? For me, the games I play have created close friendships that have translated to a spectacular array of supporters during my fight against cancer. My game buddies have been here whenever I need them--bringing food, flowers and thoughtful or gag gifts; being available for conversation, transportation, overnight stays when Steve is out of town. Colleen regularly sends me encouraging bundles from Utah where she lives and I receive humorous cards and uplifting stories from the Texas Tiles, a special group of women who Shelby and I taught to play Mahj last February in San Antonio. Michael and his girlfriend and my friend Ruth in Georgia are on line with me regularly playing word games. All of this has brought me through four months of isolation during chemo in good cheer and entertained without feeling isolated. As a wise young man recently said to me: "life without relationships is no life at all."
To celebrate the end of chemo, I had a small paMahja party with pizza, special t-shirts, and plenty of goofiness during the evening here at home with my regular Mahj group. And several decades later, I can still hear Grandad's booming voice and see his Saint Bernard dance as he looks at my entire group of friends and trumpets:
NOW THAT'S A WINNER!
Jody, Alice, Judi and Shelby
at the paMAHJa party
I just have to say that I wax you in Scrabble in English as much as in Spanish :-P
ReplyDeleteAnd I love all the games we play :)
Point taken!
ReplyDelete