Playing Cards With Dad

On these cold February evenings when it’s too chilly to sit outside on the porch, I think back to the same kinds of evenings in the late ’80s and early ’90s. Those cold evenings when the warmth of the house caused the cold windows to fog over, and the smell of a delicious dinner that we had all enjoyed still lingered in the air.

When homework was done, and I’d had a shower, but it was still too early to go to bed, I’d often play cards with Dad. After working a long, hard day, he would come home and shower, eat dinner, and reward himself by kicking back in his recliner in front of the television. He’d fire up a Marlboro Light cigarette and use the remote control to guide the cable box to something like The Family Channel to watch Bordertown or The Young Riders, and be ready to settle in for a relaxing evening.

But I’d come along and ask to play cards, and he’d almost always agree to a game or two. I would sit in the floor Indian style beside his chair, while he continued to lay back in his reclined position. Somehow he could manage to to watch his show, smoke his cigarette, and still pay attention to the card game we were playing. Mom would sit in her recliner across from his, crocheting an afghan blanket without ever looking down at her hands as she watched the television program too.

My favorite game to play in those years was Rummie. He had taught me the game so he would have someone to play with. After a while, I became good enough to be a worthy opponent to him, and on those card nights, I stood as good of a chance as he did at winning. We’d play best of three, or best of five hands usually, and it almost always came down to the last hand before a winner was declared.

Later on, he taught me how to play a game called King’s Corner, and that dominated our card games for a long time. While I remember those games in the living room beside his chair the most, we’d also play at the kitchen table on Sunday mornings before heading off to church.

But thinking back to those nights when it was cold outside, yet warm and cozy inside while playing cards with Dad takes me back to a happy place. A place where thoughts of school the next day rarely invaded my thoughts, nor did I worry about what was on television that I might be missing. All I could think about was how to convince him to play just one more game. But he’d call it a night before I was ready most times, but the next night we’d do it all over again.

Win or lose, I always had fun playing cards with Dad, and all these years later I can still think back on those nights and smile.