Today I was thinking about games probably most families played when it was cold outside or during long holidays or school breaks. I realize there are new games now, ie., video games, computer games, Nintendo and all the rest. In fact, my children at school write about video games in their essays; however, they must be very specific so I know who they're talking about and can get a mental picture of the game as they write of it. I want to see the flaming buildings or the ferocious enemies, otherwise, write about something else.
But last night I had dinner with mom. We were remembering fondly how she and dad and Truett and I would play Rook once a week for ten years. We both agreed we miss those games. My mother was a vicious player, out for blood. Unfortunately, she ran circles around dad but I imagine that was because dad was so right-brained (creative, outside the box thinker and in his latter years, just couldn't keep it together mentally). Mom was always my partner. Lucky me. From the first deal she reminded me how to play...play after play. "I know Mother," I would say.
Then there was Truett. He would fuss and fuss at my dad. He would say, "George, aren't you paying attention. When I throw down this particular card, you are to always follow with that particular card." The real players in the Rook game were Truett and Mom. Dad and I just did what they told us. (I, too, am very right-brained)
But along with the weekly game came companionship regardless of how tired any of us were. During rainstorms, heat, cold temperatures we played our game. When I began this blog I had a totally different direction in mind, but I like what emerged instead. "I'm thinking of you, daddy."