"Five card stud, jacks or better to open"

Poker was a tradition in my family. When I was little and we went to Grandma and Grandpa's house, there was always a poker game going on after dinner. My father, Uncle Wally, Uncle Ray, Grandpa, Lee (a family friend), and others would sit in the kitchen and deal the cards. Sometimes my grandma would play too. They just played nickel-dime, never too much money because no one had that much. I loved watching them. I don't remember anyone actually teaching me to play. I just picked it up by watching. As my brothers and my sister got older, they were allowed to play. I am the youngest, so I had to wait. And wait. And wait. I wish I could remember that first day that I was allowed to sit at the table, but my memory is fuzzy. Still I do remember the pride coursing through me when I finally got to sit at the table and play cards. My dad or sometimes Grandma would bankroll me. I almost always lost. I was terrible at it. (Of course, I was probably 12 or so.) I didn't care. I loved playing the games. Seven card stud. Five card draw, jacks to open. No Peek Baseball. Crossroads. Crazy Wally. (Guess who invented that one?) And as I lost dime after dime, I watched my dad, my grandpa, Uncle Wally, and even my older brothers. I learned the game. I learned when to raise and, more importantly, when not to raise. I learned how to bluff. I learned to speak the language - suicide kings and one eyed jacks and roll your own. And most of all, I remember feeling a part of my family, feeling safe and happy, and wishing it would never end.

My grandparents and Lee have both passed on. Uncle Wally lives on the east coast. I don't think my dad ever got into it as much as some of the other players. My brothers aren't as interested in playing as they once were. Of course, John and my brother-in-law Daryl have a monthly game with friends with higher stakes than we ever played, so they don't miss the family games.) So we don't play cards at family parties much anymore. And I think one reason for that is we don't separate men and women as much these days as they did then. At Granpa's house, while the men were off playing cards, the women were... well, I'm not sure what they were doing. And it's not that the women couldn't play - Grandma played sometimes and so did Mary, Lee's wife. But is was a different time, and the men and women just naturally drifted into different parts of the house. These days, at family parties, there's no such separation. (Well, okay, maybe when the Bears are playing, but that's it.) So poker has passed on. Maybe it'll get revived with the new generation who range from 14 years old to a couple of months. One thing is for sure, Uncle Matt will always be ready to shuffle up and deal.

Poker memories:

Grandma, smiling and eyes a-twinkling as she gave me money to play the game.
Lee, so quiet in the corner, only breaking into a rare grin when he won big.
Uncle Wally, loud and boisterous, always laughing, always encouraging me.
Dad, slapping cards down when he had a good hand and quietly telling me what beats what.
Me, laughing and grinning and loving every minute of it.