I was raised to read the tea leaves in life, to examine every life event to determine if it was fortunate or unfortunate. The fortunate ones were painless, easy and happy, the unfortunate ones were not. Although I once was certain, I no longer believe that I can tell the difference. As my father, a dedicated and somewhat addicted Gin Rummy player would say, "It's not in the hand, it's in the way that you play it."

Almost everyone in the family was drafted at one time or another to be my father's opponent at cards. My father was a scientific player and he practiced constantly. Often after the first five or so cards were played he would be able to tell you with a high percentage of accuracy what you held in your hand and what cards you probably needed to win. He based his conclusions on the cards that had been discarded and what was in his hand. He was rarely wrong. He would hold back the cards you needed in his own hand until he picked the cards he needed to declare victory. He played with his buddies filling the kitchen with cigar smoke and winning almost every hand.

My mother played by pure intuition. She ignored every rule of the game, blithely breaking up lays and discarding matching cards, throwing back the very cards she had picked up only moments ago. He was never able to beat her.

I remember his outraged howls when she would discard one of the three Jacks he knew she must be holding and pick another card. "Gladys, you can't do that," he would bellow. My mother would look at him with the most innocent and wicked of smiles. "But I have, Ray," she would tell him. "I have." Eventually he refused to play with her. "She does not play fair," he would tell me.