Euchre and grief
I was born and raised in Indiana. If I lived up to my Midwestern stereotype, that would mean I started playing euchre by the time I was old enough to hold cards without letting anyone else see them. Unfortunately for me, that was not the case. I was a late bloomer when it came to euchre. I didn’t learn the game until I went away to college in Tennessee’s fair eastern mountains.
That’s right. I had to go to college eight hours away in order to 1.) meet my future wife – an Indiana native – and 2.) to have a guy from Michigan and a guy from Indiana teach me how to play euchre. Don’t get me wrong. We played cards in Scouts. It’s just that we were more into Hearts and Spades than euchre.
Shortly after learning how to play euchre during my freshman year at Milligan, a few friends and I drove to Huntsville, AL, to meet my old Scout troop as they toured the U.S. Space & Rocket Center. We hung out with them that evening and I wound up playing euchre with a few of the adults who were on that trip. I don’t remember who we played against, but Dr. Dave was my partner.
Dr. Dave was an adult Scout leader when I was in high school. I didn’t know it at the time, but he was quite versed in euchre strategy. We played that evening and he taught this novice quite a bit. Whenever I’d make a questionable move that would cost us a round, he’d patiently take a breath and say something like “(Insert strategist’s name here)’s book, he says you should always play it this way whenever you’re in this situation.” At the time, I didn’t even know there was enough strategy to euchre to fill a book. And I definitely didn’t think there was enough strategy to fill several books.
I never really learned that much strategy. Unfortunately. I know enough euchre to be able to teach people to play – and then beat me. Same thing happened with chess. But that’s a different post for a different day.
I think of Dr. Dave almost every time I play euchre
Whenever I play euchre and am met with a tough decision about which card to play, I look up and see Dr. Dave’s face looking back at me. “What would Dr. Dave say I should do?” I ask myself. I honestly have no idea what he would have said. But I still think of him every time I play. I’m not gonna lie. It makes me a little sad.
You see, Dr. Dave wasn’t just a Scout Dad. That would have been enough. But he was also a longtime family friend. We hiked Philmont together. Dad went on many fishing trips with him. He and his wife helped us pull off the most amazing surprise party ever. He also told this memorable joke that still makes me laugh when I think about it. Dr. Dave was good people.
Sadly, he passed away a few years ago.
It’s been awhile
Thanks to a weird set of circumstances that I still don’t think I understand, Aiden, Aly, Christy, and I wound up playing euchre a few nights ago. The last time I’d played euchre was at our department’s holiday party at work. My team got killed. It wasn’t pretty. But we lost to my boss and my boss’s boss…so I guess it wasn’t all that bad. And yes, I could still see Dr. Dave looking at me and wondering why I’d played that card when I did…
My family wound up playing euchre two nights in a row. We had a blast. Aiden and Christy won the first night. Aly and I won the second night. I guess we’re due for a winner-take-all match. I’m sure that’ll happen soon. Then we’ll find out who the real household champion is.
But here’s what happened…I saw Dr. Dave’s face. Again. But then I started thinking of how good of a friend he was to Dad. Which, of course, got me thinking of Mom.
That’s the funny thing about grief, isn’t it? It can sneak up on you and kick you in the teeth when you least expect it. But we press on, taking one step in front of another.
Will I keep playing euchre? Of course. Will it be tough? Sometimes.
But even though grief sucks, I can’t avoid doing fun things with my family. Right? You can’t really avoid grief anyway. Can’t go around it. Can’t go under it or over it. Gotta go through it.
So I’ll press on, taking one step in front of another.
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