My mother’s card and game playing abilities were infamous in our family.  My siblings and I grew up on a steady diet of board games and card games.  Mom was never the kind of mother (or grandmother) that would ‘let’ a youngster beat her at a game of cards.  While she would never exactly gloat… she got a lot of satisfaction out of her skills.

I firmly believe that you can always tell if someone grew up playing cards–you aren’t exactly born with the card-playing-gene; but you get it from your family.  I cannot remember a time I didn’t play some form of cards with my family;  my brother and I had epic games of Canasta during which we would both practically hyperventilate when the going got tough.  I consider the love of gaming (particularly cards) to be a gift from my childhood.

My spouse, and my (older) children’s spouses do not have the card-playing-gene, and this puts them at a true disadvantage during family gatherings.  My kids and I LOVE to play cards and the inevitable trash-talk that is part of our particular heritage.

When the spouses are brave enough to join in the festivities, we quickly leave them in the dust as we shuffle, deal, bid, count cards, and trash-talk through the latest favorite game.  The spouses are all good sports, but eventually they drift away to leave my progeny and myself to snarl away at each other as we have a wonderful time trying to kick each other’s butts.

My oldest daughter and I have a competitive gin rummy tradition — with the winner receiving a back rub.  The trash-talking component of our rivalry is legendary, with numerous accusations, swearing (if no children are about) and generally defamatory remarks.   On the rare occasion that an uninitiated person is within hearing,  they think we are really mad at each other,  but the truth is that we are having a marvelous time.  One evening, this dynamic lead to the following  memorable quote “If you weren’t rubbing my back right now, I’d hit you!”   

About 6 years ago we were playing cards with my mom.  She stopped during a hand and had to be reminded of the bid.  Very odd.  A few months later during another game, she stopped and asked about the rules.  This was the equivalent of Julia Child asking how to boil an egg.  It was shocking and was my first inkling that there was something seriously wrong with my mother.

The official diagnosis of Alzheimers came a few years later and while we were sad, we were not surprised.  Today, I would give anything to lose a game of gin rummy to my mom.