Game Playing

It is always interesting to me how two (or more) people can recall someone they mutually know, and have different impressions. Once, when I was talking with my brother about our mother, I recalled her as particularly organized, and he recalled her as very spontaneous. Of course, she was both.

One thing on which I think my siblings and I would agree is that game playing was something our mother loved to do. And, I certainly inherited that love from her.

We are spending Thanksgiving with our son and daughter-in-law in Pittsburgh. After a lovely time out to dinner last evening, we came back to their house, and our son asked--did we want to play a board game.

That's how we were introduced to Blokus. I don't go looking for new games to buy, so I had not heard of this game. Many good games have very simply principles on which the strategy of the game is based, and Blokus is no exception.

After one round of Blokus (which I lost decisively), our son asked if I was up to another game--a two person game. And, with my affirmative response, he and I played another new game: Pyraos (sometimes also called Pylos).

A fun evening. For the record (my family keeps track of such things), I lost all the games--but I played them and enjoyed them.

Thanks, Mother.

The Road to Happy Valley

This is a story about the road to Happy Valley. For many years, my husband and I have been going to Penn State games. A friend of ours (now dead) introduced us to Penn State football in the late 1970s. We began attending games before Penn State entered the big 10 (really 11). We have gone to most all the home games (excepting a brief hiatus when our daughter was born in October, 1981) and some important away games, including the thrilling Fiesta Bowl in January, 1987 (which capped the winning 1986 season.


This past Saturday, we headed out in the early morning for the noon game against Purdue (for the record, PSU won, and that's the last mention of wins or losses).


We love to drive the "back way" which takes us along the Susquehanna River, heading north on U.S. 15. Appropriately, the route is also called Old Trail Road. Just above Liverpool, PA, we head off on Route 104 winding along a lovely country road, where Amish farmers are out in their buggies on a Saturday morning.

We go through several small towns, including Middleburg.

The morning sky was laced with dramatic sweeping clouds on this autumn day.

We pass little country churches.

Winter provisions rolled up in plastic, under the morning sky.

Neat farm settings. We can tell that many of these farms are Amish by the lack of telephone or electrical wires heading into the farms. Also, there are frequently sturdy draft horses in the fields.

Our first stop is the Penn Stater Inn for breakfast. Sometimes it's for lunch, depending on the game starting time.

The Legends Pub where we eat is deserted this morning--too early for the food and football crowd.

Our season tickets are for four seats, so we bring along family or friends. The only requirement--just don't wear RED!

Penn State football means Joe Paterno--or in shorthand parlance--JoePa. He is an institution at Penn State. The best attribute about Paterno, in my opinion, is his dedication to education first, and football second.

Of course, there are the tailgaters. The crew below (no one we know) bring along their dog who is appropriately garbed in a football sweater. For several Saturdays, we have watched this dog (across from where we park) as the tailgaters toss a football back and forth over the dog's head. Eventually, the dog grabs the football and proceeds to deflate it.

Finally, we have cooler weather--football should be played in cold weather. This Saturday, our seats were frosted over.

Of course, the festivities begin with the Penn State Blue Band.

Somehow, the tradition began that the drum major would run and do a flip--his success supposedly foretells the game's outcome. Not very scientific, but fun.

Success!

And there is always the Nittany Lion. Once, when we went to a game with our son, who was a little boy at the time, he spied the Nittany Lion and said--look at the guy in the bear suit.

And here we have a well-dressed fan!

We must get into the stadium to see the warm-up drills.

And then the game begins.

Sometimes we have winning seasons--and sometimes not. True fans stick with their team--no booing. No calling for Paterno to resign, etc. etc. etc.

Then it's time to head home, leaving Happy Valley behind.

My favorite site along the road to Happy Valley is this lovely round barn.

I have noticed that the journey home is much sweeter after a victory!

Games People Play

You TOOK my archer

“You took my archer!” That sentence burst from my lips in a wail.

How did I get to the place where my archer was in danger, much less subject to capture? Well, there’s always a story, isn’t there?

I grew up in a family that loved to play games. My mother was the leader in this regard. She loved playing games. One time, my brother and I were discussing our mother and her personality. I had recently gone through a Myers-Briggs personality assessment, and learned that I am a strong J (Myers-Briggs’ term for those of us who like to plan—whatever needs planning). I thought Mother was a J, a planner, a decision maker. My brother was convinced she was a P (again, Myer-Briggs’ talk for those who like to keep options open, and be spontaneous). Long after this conversation, I thought about the different ways my brother and I perceived our mother. I was thinking about our mother in a business context, and my brother was thinking of her in a playful context. In a family gathering setting, it was quite likely we would hear Mother say—let’s play a game.

Of all the traits I have inherited from my mother, I know I got the game playing bug from her. Predictably, some of the games I love to play most are those that involve words, strategy, and displays of eclectic intelligence (hmmmm—might those games be called trivia games?). As our children were growing up, I spent hours playing games such as Othello, or Battleship with them. When we would go on family vacations, I made sure we took along Trivial Pursuit.

In fact, playing Classic Trivial Pursuit is still one of my favorites. For some time now, the test has been to see whether or not our college educated children and their partners could beat Mom and Dad—that was the test of whether these expensive educations had paid off! Thankfully, our tuition money has been well-invested and my husband and I are now regular losers at Trivial Pursuit.

But we have had some wonderful moments where we have flabbergasted our children playing games. One of my favorite such moments was when we were playing Taboo. This game must be played in teams—you are to give clues to help your partner guess the word on a card. Among the clues you may not say are the taboo words. Next to you sits your opposite team member who sees the taboo words and buzzes if you inadvertently say one. In one game, I got the word BAYOU that I needed to get my husband to say. So, I said—it’s OK by me, if it’s OK ____? And my husband burst out BAYOU! Our kids sat there looking totally perplexed. My husband and I still cackle about that.

The little Taboo example demonstrates how well my husband and I can work together as a team, if we so choose. But it wasn’t always so. Yes—back to the YOU TOOK MY ARCHER wail.

Soon after we were married, I suggested we play a game or two. I should have been prepared for the demise of my archer, based on an earlier game experience I had with my husband. We were playing Chinese checkers, a game I had played as a child. I always built a “bridge” across the board, and then would march my marbles across. My husband watched and waited, and as soon as I had the bridge built, he marched his marbles across, blocking the way for me! I sat there with my mouth open in absolute disbelief!

So, I must have thought to change strategy by changing the game. Aha—Feudal. We settled down to play Feudal.

This game may no longer be made, and even when it was being sold, it was not well known. It combined elements of chess, but was played on a flat board. The object was to take your opponent’s castle, or capture all the royalty pieces in the game. Like chess, different pieces have different ranges of movement. The archer could shoot several spaces, so I would frequently position my archer on top of my castle. One evening, soon after we had begun to play, my husband skillfully (I can’t remember how) managed to maneuver around so that he captured my archer.

“You took my archer!”—the wail was coming from my lips. I was so upset, that we stopped playing the game. In fact, we shelved it, and there . . .it. . .sits. . .on. . .the. . .shelf. We have NEVER played it since. Oh, there have been one or two times when I have suggested—let’s play Feudal. But my husband remained strong and firm—no, you get too upset when I take your archer.

It’s true—not only do I love to play games, BUT I also love to WIN!