The jingle of coins as they were placed on the kitchen table clashed with the growing mound of money. The cards clicking and the rapid shuffling of the deck and the sounds of air whooshing out of pursed lips were all strong indicators of a good hand. The dealer, an expert from years of handling a deck of 52 cards, and the players, regular Friday night participants, either threw down their rotten hands or stayed on for the growing pot.
This sounds like Vegas on a good night, but no, it was my mother’s night with the other ladies and grannies, gambling until the wee hours of the morning, until only the winner took all. Of course, throughout the whole evening, the talking never stopped unless a big bet was made. The cigarettes, which were still allowed and socially acceptable, made the atmosphere at the table serious. All of this usually happened after a bingo game, which was around once a week back then. Yes, gambling was an acceptable social risk back then.
The parish hall, which seemed huge, fit a lot of players on bingo night. It was most certainly the social event of the week. Weddings, parties, other holidays and celebrations, were celebrated on that day or days. Halloween lasted 24 hours maximum, Christmas was a 48-hour affair, the same for New Year’s, so gambling and socializing was a more common fare of entertainment. In other words, having fun at home was the only solution.
I, too, took up gambling for serious money at the local restaurant in Fort George, where just about everything was acceptable. Many a day of Acey Deucey, 7 Come 11, Hearts Wild and all the variants of poker were played. These games’ rules were strictly adhered to, as anyone who guessed wrong, well, they lost.
Once, I was the second last guy standing, facing a formidable foe on the poker table. The classic Five Card Stud was the game, and I went all in with my last 35 cents, and won on a lucky flush of clubs. I was going to grab my claim when my wily foe uttered the dreaded Double or Nothing game. I quickly refused, saying that I had to buy a pack of smokes and head out somewhere else. I made a quick getaway with my winnings intact.
Then radio bingo started offering larger prizes like snowmobiles, airline tickets, large jackpots, and became the king of gambling games. This large-scale bingo event grew flush with cash. Literally, large garbage bags of cash had to be handled, counted and deposited into the bank.
After just one night of managing a large live bingo, I was exhausted from double counting and confirming every bill and coin. Then calling the police to escort me to the bank down on the main floor before rousting the bank manager out of bed to come accept the deposit at 5am.
This swayed onto the other side of gambling to just being the player and not the house. I could not imagine myself counting millions of dollars of cash for the rest of my life. Thus, I realized that being just the player put me in the class of people called losers, and I just didn’t like the idea of gambling, even though I still play.
As the experts say, it’s all in the chemicals in your body that produce the effect called happiness and pleasure. We get addicted to that feeling, wanting more and more of it. Yes, happiness can be addictive. This is achieved by producing a man-made object that is supposed to create your own happiness, called money. This money, when lost, creates a stronger desire to be happier and another bill slips into the machine and some ringing and dinging go off, relieving you of all pressures and creating a chemically induced happiness.
Thus, the game of gambling is no longer a game, it’s an addiction and obsession, relieved only by the sound of winning. Give me back the smoke-filled family room where the stakes are affordable, and the stimulations are few and far apart.