~ ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS ~
The History of Candyland
Literary Candyland!
They had just come on the market when I first saw them advertised;
now they are "vintage" and out - of - print.
Why did I wait 20 years to order them?
But they still look fun, right?
It all begins with Candyland . . .
and the next thing you know, Monopoly . . .
Monopoly
We used to play, long before we bought real houses.
A roll of the dice could send a girl to jail.
The money was pink, blue, gold, as well as green,
and we could own a whole railroad
or speculate in hotels where others dreaded staying:
the cost was extortionary.
At last one person would own everything,
every teaspoon in the dining car, every spike
driven into the planks by immigrants,
every crooked mayor.
But then, with only the clothes on our backs,
we ran outside, laughing.
by Connie Wanek (b 1952)
Like the children in the poem, I've rarely had the focus required to compete at board games. As a child, I was always the one to get up and wander around when it wasn't my turn or give all my houses away if someone asked for them. One of my earliest Monopoly memories was seeing a brand game in the recesses of the car trunk, as my parents were bringing in the groceries a few weeks before Christmas 1966. That must have been when we little kids realized that Mom and Dad were Santa's helpers.
The next Christmas, it was the Game of Life, and so many others down through the years: Battleship, Chinese Checkers, Mahjong, Scrabble, Trivial Pursuit. Clue was a great favorite because of the characters and the narrative. You can guess what I'm always looking for in a board game: would it make a good novel? Or, better yet -- the obvious appeal of the games above -- is it based on a novel? Games should be fun, like fiction! Turns out, I tire pretty easily of games and puzzles that are too much like life. If it's real life you're looking for, we've already got that, as this poem by Barbara Crooker illustrates so well:
Monopoly 1955
We start by fanning out the money, colored
like Necco wafers: pink, yellow, mint, gold.
From the first roll of the dice, differences widen:
the royal blues of Boardwalk and Park Place
look down their noses at the grapey immigrants
from Baltic and Mediterranean Avenues.
My grandparents coming from Italy in steerage
measured their gold in olive oil, not bank notes
and deeds. The man in the top hat and tuxedo
always holds the good cards. The rest of us
hope we can pay the Electric Company.
We know there is no such thing as Free Parking,
and Bank Errors are never in our favor.
In the background, Johnny Mathis croons
Chances Are from the cracked vinyl radio.
We played for hours, in those years
before television, on the Formica table,
while my mother coaxed a chicken,
cooking all day on the back burner, to multiply
itself into many meals. The fat rose to the surface,
a roiling ocean of molten gold.
by Barbara Crooker (b 1945)
From her book Gold
A board game for the Erica Kane fans out there:
Pine Valley!
And Tarot cards,
ranging from classic to whimsical:
Next Fortnightly Post
Monday, February 14th
Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT ~ Krazy Ikes
my shorter, almost daily blog posts
www.dailykitticarriker.blogspot.com
Looking for a good book? Try
KITTI'S LIST
my running list of recent reading
www.kittislist.blogsppot.com
