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A Christmas Tradition

I've emerged from my turkey-induced coma and I'm back at the controls. Actually I don't think it was the turkey that knocked me out--it was probably the ham. Or the pirogi. Maybe the crab cakes my dad made on Christmas Eve...that's quite possible.

As my relatives headed home Christmas Eve my sister-in-law said, "We need to get together more often!" And my Uncle Bob said, "Well, come to the next poker game!" The menfolk on my Dad's side of the family gather a couple of times a year to play cards, drink in moderation, and eat hot sausage. And why shouldn't the ladies join in the fun? Aside from the odd off-color joke my Uncle Kenny tells at the table. And the ritualistic belching. Actually, I don't think that would faze any of my female relatives. And, God knows, it isn't like we're playing high-quality poker at these games. We play dealer's choice and the only traditionalist in the group is my Dad, who usually picks Seven-Card Stud when it's his turn to pitch. The rest of us go in for insane games with half the deck wild. The last time we played I had two Royal Flushes...and lost both pots. I still managed to end up as one of the big winners, though. Think I won two bucks.

You probably couldn't count the number of families who cleared away the dinner dishes on Christmas Eve and then broke out a deck of cards. Some families only get together once or twice a year--what better way to keep everyone around the same table gabbing, drinking and laughing than a card game? A lot more fun than watching It's A Wonderful Life for the eightieth time. I remember my family doing that a long, long time ago at my grandparents' house, I was still too little to play myself, but I'd stand by my Dad's side and look at his cards (and my cousins would do the same with their fathers) and watch the grownups play. They'd toss their nickels and dimes (sometimes even a quarter!) into a paper plate set in the middle of the table and when someone (usually my Uncle Bob) raked in the pot all those coins looked like a King's ransom. And of course the kids would end up earning a few of those coins, in exchange for running to the kitchen and getting the players a bite to eat or, more likely, something to drink.

I remember during one of those Christmas Eve games my dad telling me to make him a highball. I didn't know what a highball was (I was eight or so) so he gave me the recipe and told me to shoo. I was pouring Wild Turkey into a thick, cut-glass tumbler when my grandmother saw what I was doing. In front of about twenty people she shrieked, "Oh my God, you drink whiskey!!??". Everyone knew what I was doing and laughed at the joke, but Minga (as we called her) could be pretty formidable and I was scared half to death. After I sputtered and stammered and explained what I was doing my Dad said, "Hey, make mine first!!" I brought my dad his highball and he winced after he took a sip. "Next time," he laughed, "less whiskey, and more ginger ale."

We haven't played poker after Christmas Eve for a long, long time. My grandparents have passed away, a few of my aunts and uncles have moved to Florida, and it seems like we all have multiple stops to make during the day. And so our poker games have become a holiday of sorts. We all get together, shoot the breeze, and splurge on good food and drink. There are people out there who think that poker is a detriment to our society, that it's sinful, that it should be against the law. I'm thinking they've never gathered around a table to play cards with the people who mean the most to them. I feel sorry for them.