Confession Time
Confession time
February 9, 2000
Ok—this is a confession about the low, sneaky side of my life—about the most heinous thing I have ever done, something I can’t even believe I did but, in keeping with my desire to be completely honest with everyone I ever knew, I feel like I need to confess.
So, here it is, its unbelievable, you won’t believe I did this—I, myself, can’t believe I actually did this BUT, here it is…I cheated at cards while playing with my kids.
I mean, I was playing card game with my son and his wife, the parents of my new granddaughter, the first of my lineage, my key to the future, and I needed a set of three and a run of five. I had a ten and a five, six, eight and nine. There was a ten on top of the pile, and I decided not to pick it up, but then I changed my mind. But, meanwhile, I’d just peeked at the top card and IT WAS THE SEVEN! So, I changed my mind back and took it! I cheated! I peeked and changed my mind. I was so completely humiliated I couldn’t say anything for the rest of the night.
Naturally, my luck began to change immediately. I moved from being three levels behind to even and then ahead of everyone! I couldn’t miss. Usually I do this elaborate strategy stuff. I memorize the cards people get rid of, I play the percentages, take every chance—I try to make myself into this risk taker, assertive and daring, but I’m just so incredibly bad at games. I don’t have any instinct for games at all.
Here’s the history. My dad was this great card player. He played cards all the time. He and my mom were bridge players and I have this picture in my mind of him being this great champion card player. He probably lost all the time, but I wasn’t there for that. I was there for all the strategy sessions where he described all the things I should do to win.
He was also a good dancer—and I can’t dance either. It taps into this whole list of things I’m inept at. I never got the best grades in high school, I was never as pretty as my sister and cousins, I’m never clever when I should be clever, I can’t play the piano fast. I will never play “Jingle Bells” as fast as people need to sing it.
A couple of months ago, I was visiting my wonderful, brilliant step-grandchild, Kyle, who is nine. We went to the Santa Barbara aquarium and he picked out a deck of CARDS. Well, here we have the age-old dilemma. Should I let him win or should I wack the socks off him and teach him a big lesson about how it goes in the real world?
I personally think its really condescending to let anyone win, but I think he could have let me have at least one game! He actually beat me, I counted, 19 times in a row! Everything about me that’s a loser was overwhelmed—but I didn’t cheat the nine year old. That time.
What does this say about my character? Don’t ever get into an accident and die on my front lawn—I’ll probably take your wallet before I call the police.
The worst part is that I finally got up enough nerve to tell them that I cheated and they laughed at me. Not only am I dishonest, I have children who are not outraged at evil AND, children who think I’m nuts. I’m trying to tell myself that I’ve lost perspective on this—but WHAT KIND OF PERSON AM I—really?
There’s no moral lessons here. Only the shame in my heart. When they suggested that we play cards again, I had to tell them. What if I did it again?
What are the other twelve steps? Don’t I have to write a letter to everyone I’ve ever harmed or something?
February 9, 2000
Ok—this is a confession about the low, sneaky side of my life—about the most heinous thing I have ever done, something I can’t even believe I did but, in keeping with my desire to be completely honest with everyone I ever knew, I feel like I need to confess.
So, here it is, its unbelievable, you won’t believe I did this—I, myself, can’t believe I actually did this BUT, here it is…I cheated at cards while playing with my kids.
I mean, I was playing card game with my son and his wife, the parents of my new granddaughter, the first of my lineage, my key to the future, and I needed a set of three and a run of five. I had a ten and a five, six, eight and nine. There was a ten on top of the pile, and I decided not to pick it up, but then I changed my mind. But, meanwhile, I’d just peeked at the top card and IT WAS THE SEVEN! So, I changed my mind back and took it! I cheated! I peeked and changed my mind. I was so completely humiliated I couldn’t say anything for the rest of the night.
Naturally, my luck began to change immediately. I moved from being three levels behind to even and then ahead of everyone! I couldn’t miss. Usually I do this elaborate strategy stuff. I memorize the cards people get rid of, I play the percentages, take every chance—I try to make myself into this risk taker, assertive and daring, but I’m just so incredibly bad at games. I don’t have any instinct for games at all.
Here’s the history. My dad was this great card player. He played cards all the time. He and my mom were bridge players and I have this picture in my mind of him being this great champion card player. He probably lost all the time, but I wasn’t there for that. I was there for all the strategy sessions where he described all the things I should do to win.
He was also a good dancer—and I can’t dance either. It taps into this whole list of things I’m inept at. I never got the best grades in high school, I was never as pretty as my sister and cousins, I’m never clever when I should be clever, I can’t play the piano fast. I will never play “Jingle Bells” as fast as people need to sing it.
A couple of months ago, I was visiting my wonderful, brilliant step-grandchild, Kyle, who is nine. We went to the Santa Barbara aquarium and he picked out a deck of CARDS. Well, here we have the age-old dilemma. Should I let him win or should I wack the socks off him and teach him a big lesson about how it goes in the real world?
I personally think its really condescending to let anyone win, but I think he could have let me have at least one game! He actually beat me, I counted, 19 times in a row! Everything about me that’s a loser was overwhelmed—but I didn’t cheat the nine year old. That time.
What does this say about my character? Don’t ever get into an accident and die on my front lawn—I’ll probably take your wallet before I call the police.
The worst part is that I finally got up enough nerve to tell them that I cheated and they laughed at me. Not only am I dishonest, I have children who are not outraged at evil AND, children who think I’m nuts. I’m trying to tell myself that I’ve lost perspective on this—but WHAT KIND OF PERSON AM I—really?
There’s no moral lessons here. Only the shame in my heart. When they suggested that we play cards again, I had to tell them. What if I did it again?
What are the other twelve steps? Don’t I have to write a letter to everyone I’ve ever harmed or something?
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