I hardly know 'er
Jun. 30th, 2008 02:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
penfield"It is a very exclusive organization devoted to the study of financial problems, psychology, and the relative and varying values of certain pieces of paper. In a word, it is a poker game."
- Theodore Roosevelt
When grandparents get to a certain age, I suppose it's natural to at least fleetingly entertain the notion that you might never see them again. It is an painfully unpleasant idea to consider, but the fact is that eventually it will be true. So whenever I see my grandparents, like I am this weekend, I try to make the most of my time.
I've always had an especially close relationship with my maternal grandparents. In those times when things were messy with my family, my grandparents were always there to discipline my brother and I, reassure us and teach us.
Last night I played a game of poker with my family -- my grandparents, my father and my brother. Tournament-Style, No-Limit Hold-'Em, $5 buy-in. The scene was like a twisted perversion of a Norman Rockwell painting.
I could lay claim to the least amount of experience at the table. My grandfather has been playing poker in Las Vegas for six hours a day every day for the past 15 years. My father is the reigning poker stud among his regular golf buddies. My brother spends hours in online poker rooms and runs his own game; he also owns his own clay chips and knows poker terms like "big blind," "on the button" and "sucked out on the river."
My grandmother has been playing cards since birth, although she would admit that gin rummy is more her specialty. She claims to have not picked up much knowledge from my grandfather but she sure knows how to cuss like a poker player.
And there I was, the slowest car in the race, an easy mark. My poker know-how has been limited to a couple of highly distracted pick-up games with my pals and a viewing of Celebrity Poker Showdown in which my primary interest was watching to see if David Cross could stay sober enough to sit in his chair.
I started out well enough, amassing the largest chip count through the first half-hour. On one hand, I held a pair of kings and saw a queen-five-jack flop. I pulled my grandfather all-in only to find out that he was holding pocket aces. That left me short-stacked for the rest of the game.
Nevertheless, I hung around even while my grandfather wiped out my father, then my brother, then my grandmother. One-on-one with the old man, I bet aggressively enough to steal a few pots until he pushed me all-in with a suited jack-ten, while he had two queens. Two jacks came up on the flop, making me feel pretty good about myself until the dealer turned over another queen on the turn -- full house, I lose.
J. and I are heading back to Washington today and I am holding in my heart a shivering wish that I will see my grandparents again soon. But it's fitting that I walk away today with another lesson in my back pocket, where my $5 used to be.
- Theodore Roosevelt
When grandparents get to a certain age, I suppose it's natural to at least fleetingly entertain the notion that you might never see them again. It is an painfully unpleasant idea to consider, but the fact is that eventually it will be true. So whenever I see my grandparents, like I am this weekend, I try to make the most of my time.
I've always had an especially close relationship with my maternal grandparents. In those times when things were messy with my family, my grandparents were always there to discipline my brother and I, reassure us and teach us.
Last night I played a game of poker with my family -- my grandparents, my father and my brother. Tournament-Style, No-Limit Hold-'Em, $5 buy-in. The scene was like a twisted perversion of a Norman Rockwell painting.
I could lay claim to the least amount of experience at the table. My grandfather has been playing poker in Las Vegas for six hours a day every day for the past 15 years. My father is the reigning poker stud among his regular golf buddies. My brother spends hours in online poker rooms and runs his own game; he also owns his own clay chips and knows poker terms like "big blind," "on the button" and "sucked out on the river."
My grandmother has been playing cards since birth, although she would admit that gin rummy is more her specialty. She claims to have not picked up much knowledge from my grandfather but she sure knows how to cuss like a poker player.
And there I was, the slowest car in the race, an easy mark. My poker know-how has been limited to a couple of highly distracted pick-up games with my pals and a viewing of Celebrity Poker Showdown in which my primary interest was watching to see if David Cross could stay sober enough to sit in his chair.
I started out well enough, amassing the largest chip count through the first half-hour. On one hand, I held a pair of kings and saw a queen-five-jack flop. I pulled my grandfather all-in only to find out that he was holding pocket aces. That left me short-stacked for the rest of the game.
Nevertheless, I hung around even while my grandfather wiped out my father, then my brother, then my grandmother. One-on-one with the old man, I bet aggressively enough to steal a few pots until he pushed me all-in with a suited jack-ten, while he had two queens. Two jacks came up on the flop, making me feel pretty good about myself until the dealer turned over another queen on the turn -- full house, I lose.
J. and I are heading back to Washington today and I am holding in my heart a shivering wish that I will see my grandparents again soon. But it's fitting that I walk away today with another lesson in my back pocket, where my $5 used to be.
