Shuffle up and Deal

By Jacki Burkhart

“This is it.  This will be the one” I think.  

I spread my fingers and flex my thumbs and just as I imagine the cards beautifully riffling together … confetti.  Cards spray and flutter onto the table and the dreary shag carpet for at least the 25th time this morning.   I try to laugh at myself but it’s getting harder with each failed attempt at shuffling.  Perhaps if my 9-year-old self understood the concept of “make it rain,” I could have found the humor in the situation; but it’s 1990.  I don’t think “make it rain” is a thing yet … or if it’s happening out there somewhere, I doubt the phrase has gone mainstream.  

I’m getting frustrated.  I need to perfect this skill, and I’m running out of time. Grampa Roy and Gramma Nance are coming this afternoon for a 4th of July BBQ, and, as usual, we are going to play cards and dice after dinner.   The kids are allowed to play the first couple of easy games such as Go Fish, Yahtzee, War, Zonk … but then the money comes out and the kids must leave so the adults can play poker.  

I’ve whined about this injustice countless times to no avail.  And I always get the same answer:

 “You can’t play poker with us until you can actually shuffle and deal.”

They don’t accept my counter arguments or compromises.  NO.  I must learn to shuffle, riffle, cut and deal if I want to play with the adults.  And I must learn in the next few hours.  I don’t know if it was middle child syndrome or just my innate gambler that craved this, but the urge to play was stronger in me than my sisters or cousins.

My mind wanders.  I begin daydreaming about how expertly I will shuffle tonight and impress them.  My Gramma Nance will compliment me and say what a young lady I’m becoming.  My Grampa Roy will crack some joke, and everyone will laugh.  My teenage sister Lisa will protest and try to keep me out of the game on some bullshit technicality, but my Mom or Dad will come to my aid (probably my dad) and I’ll get to play.  And I’ll win money.  Most importantly, I won’t be banished to the realm of the little kids.

And then it happens — and it is glorious!  I shuffle and riffle!  No 52-card pickup this time!  It’s sloppy, but over the next half hour I become halfway decent at shuffling.  Later that day, after some bike riding and lawn gymnastics, BBQ and sparklers, I know my hour of triumph is fast approaching.  I sneak down to the basement to practice a few more times to make sure I haven’t lost my new skill.   I’m very satisfied with myself and can’t wait to reveal my secret to the adults.

My moment arrives, the kids’ games are done.  We are told to go play downstairs.  I don’t say anything, I just stay seated at the table and confidently pull out about $6 in coins and dollar bills.  I look around the table as the adults are bringing out their money and covet the $5 bills that accompany some of the “big stacks”.

“What do we have here?” Grampa Roy asks “J.J. you think you’re ready to play for real money?”  

“Yep.  Deal me in” I reply; positive that I sound really cool.  

They all laugh, except Lisa, who looks at my mom incredulously but says nothing.  

“I hope you’ve got more than that in your piggy bank somewhere.  Otherwise I guess I can make you wash my car or something after I take all your money,” Grampa Roy jeers with a wink and everyone chuckles.

They didn’t make me prove I could shuffle and deal to join the game.  I guess my money did the talking.  Every time it was my turn to deal I chose 7 card No Peak ,also known as “Night Baseball,” because it seemed the easiest to not screw up.  Just give everyone 7 cards face down and the rest of the game handles itself.

I don’t remember how I played, or how much I won or lost.  I probably lost a couple bucks and I  remember Dad and Gramma Nance slipped me quarters occasionally when I got low.  But I never had to wash any cars and most importantly, I had arrived.  I was one of the adults now.  

Cards and games were an integral part of my family life growing up.  We didn’t play every night but if there was a get together of any kind we always played something.  Michigan Rummy, Gin Rummy, Hearts, dominoes, dice or dealer’s choice poker.  Poker nights were my favorite and I always clamored for it; but usually I didn’t even need to — it was automatic.

My dad kept a huge change jar on his dresser.  Every day he would empty his pockets and toss the change in there.  Then when we’d play poker he’d cash people in and out from their paper money via the change jar.  We never used poker chips and we never played big stakes.  (Except very occasionally a pot would get out of hand and top $50)  

I’ll never forget the time many, many years later, we were all playing around my parents’ table.  My husband, Adam, was playing too.  Grampa Roy had passed away about 3 years prior.  But Gramma Nance was as feisty as ever and we were playing dealers choice after Thanksgiving dinner.  Adam and Gramma Nance were a hilarious pair at cards.  Always attempting to get one over on each other, trolling and needling after every pot (big or small), laughing joking, pretending to look at each other’s cards, running huge bluffs that made no sense (nobody was critiquing).  

We never had a table stakes rule and in one fateful hand Gramma Nance declared, “pot” and lost the hand. She didn’t have enough cash on her to cover the bet, so she began to write Adam a $68 check and this was kind of a big deal as she was living on a fixed income as a widow.  

 “You know you can’t accept that” I told Adam quietly at the table.  

“I know, I know, I just wanted to watch her write the check,” Adam jokes, a little louder now.

We all laughed.  But Gramma Nance insisted, “Of course you’ll take it.  I lost the bet and I’m paying.  You don’t want to tick me off, so you better just take it”  

We all tried to cajole Gramma that it was fine — we are just playing for fun, but she would have none of it and paid up.  Occasionally at the poker tables I’ll hear people say things like “I’d check raise my own grandmother” and I always smile and think of this $68 check.

An early warning

The first time I really noticed the worrisome signs was during poker.  It was summer vacation and I had brought a couple of girlfriends to my hometown for a week to enjoy the lake and the tourist activities.  We gathered around one night with my parents and sister to play cards.   I had noticed over the years my mom had gotten a little scatterbrained.  Lately, she didn’t track well with our card games, sometimes forgetting which game we were playing. I always attributed that to her doing too many tasks at once.  Frequently she was cooking, tidying up and chatting with the grandkids in between hands.

But this time was different.   Because one of my friends didn’t know cards very well, we explained the rules of each game on almost every street.    Mom seemed to be paying attention, concentrating on our explanations, but she was struggling to keep up.  My suspicions grew when mom was betting and raising each street in 7-card stud and when it came to the show down all she had was the nut low, but this wasn’t a high-lo split pot game.  We were playing high only and had also been explaining that several times during the hand.  She was lost.  And I was worried.

My younger sister Bri and I whispered about it later.  We were both thinking the same things but afraid to really name it; if you name it that makes it real.  Over the next few months we spoke with Dad about her symptoms, which only seemed to be getting worse.  But denial is a powerful emotion.  The very first doctor my parents went to saw it immediately.  He said he believed Mom was showing signs of early onset Alzheimer’s disease.  Nobody wanted to hear that, especially my dad.  Time for second opinions.  

“What a quack.”

“He’s not even a specialist!”  

Deep down I already knew.  Bri and I began chatting and texting about it somewhat often.  We needed to get them to take it seriously.  They got third, fourth, fifth opinions.  Sleep apnea, menopause, depression, chronic fatigue.  They seemed to be willing to believe almost anything else.   The correct diagnosis did eventually come.  Early onset Alzheimer’s.  Mom was only 52 when we first noticed symptoms and 56 when diagnosed.  It was an emotional and difficult journey for all of us but especially for my dad who was slowly losing the love of his life.

These days I take several weeks off each year to travel to Idaho and spend time with my mom and relieve my dad of primary caregiver duties.  Each time I am home, inevitably I hear the question, “Aunt Jacki, can we play poker tonight?”  and I smile.  The question comes from the next generation of nickel ante poker degens I’m proud to be mentoring: my nieces and nephews and son.  

My dad still has the huge change jar.  I go find it and bring it downstairs.  I run the game these days.  And I bankroll all the kids from my real poker winnings … we’re talking some high stakes $10 backing arrangements here.   Mom and Dad always join in, but now they are called “Nana and Papa” and they play as a team.  Nana likes to hold the cards and put the bets in and laugh and joke with everyone else, and she REALLY likes to drag the pots.  But Papa is making all the decisions on each hand.  Each time we play the conversation turns to, “Aunt Jacki plays poker on TV,” which I guess is technically true if you count an occasional livestream.  My mom always makes the same comment, “We’re so proud of you J.  I would wet my pants if I was bluffing on TV!”  I’ve heard this line verbatim from my mom at least 40 times now and I giggle every time.  It’s always brand new to her though.

I’m far from a professional poker player.  I started playing for camaraderie, respect and inclusion.  What I ended up gaining was a certain confidence in interacting with adults that has helped me in all aspects of life.  I’ve picked up a willingness to take calculated risks and be wrong and move on without letting my ego become too involved.  This is useful in poker, but also in sports, relationships and work.

In my job as a dental hygienist I try to “play the player,” as they say.  For many of my patients,  cleaning their teeth is not the most important thing I can do for them.  Some patients do have questions about dentistry or prevention, dental phobics may just want me to alleviate their fears, some people just need to chat and tell me about their grandkids and vacations, while others are very busy and want to get in and out as fast as possible.  

They’re my customers, so it’s my job to serve them the way they want to be served.  I consider it my mission to find out who they are and what they seek.  Relationships are what make successful businesses with loyal, repeat customers.

I hone my people reading skills at the poker table nearly every weekend.  Who are my opponents?  Do they want to chat and socialize?  Do they want the thrill of chasing and making big hands? Do they love the rush and excitement of running a big bluff? How can I exploit that while still creating an environment where I’m serving my customers and we’re all having fun?  

Poker as prevention

Looking to the future, I have even more reasons to play. I have a 25% chance of developing Alzheimer’s disease as my mom did.   There is no cure for Alzheimer’s disease, but there is much that can be done to prevent the onset.   Two key elements are exercise and keeping the mind active and challenged.  Crosswords, sudoku, puzzles, games, learning and playing a musical instrument are all recommended as prevention strategies.  I believe poker is the perfect type of challenge to help my mind stay sharp and it is a hobby that can stay with me a lifetime.

Nowadays, when I visit home it’s sometimes hard to find topics to discuss because my family is deeply divided along religious and political lines.  With the added stress of Alzheimer’s disease, and the current political climate we basically can’t even watch TV peacefully.  But poker and games give us something to do where we can put our differences aside and have fun and interact, and check raise the hell out of our grandmothers.