Last November, our granddaughters introduced us to the card game Skip Bo. It's sort of a card version of Rummikub, and my husband and I took a quick liking to it.
We've played hundreds of games since then, and somewhere along the line we started chuckling about the life lessons you can learn from playing Skip Bo:
What I've Learned from playing Skip Bo
Have patience In Skip Bo, sometimes your opponent can have a turn that seems to go on forever. All you can do is sit there and watch and wait until they've run out of moves. But, eventually (well, unless they finish out the game), your turn will come.
Real life application:Patience is a virtue that can ease your life.
Look around carefully In Skip Bo, make sure, before you put down you 'end of turn' card, that you've checked the entire playing field very carefully. Missing an available move can cost you the game.
Real life application:Be aware of your surroundings.
Stay cool, and have fun Just about any game can become nastily competitive, and Skip Bo is no exception. We've learned it's much more fun if we cheer each other on.
.Real life application: Life is sweeter when you have a smile on your face.
Never give up Sometimes, especially when your oppenent has one of those never-ending turns, you can't imagine any way you'll win the game. But there have been countless times when one of us was sure they'd lost the game by a landslide, only to wind up winning in the end.
Real life application:Never, ever give up- not on your dreams, not on your aspirations, not on love. No matter how hopeless the situation seems, don't give up hope.
Right now, in my life, I'm rooting for Skip Bo. I saw the surgeon a couple of days ago, and now I'm scheduled for a biopsy. My appointment isn't until the end of April, and then we'll have to wait for the results, so we've got lots and lots of waiting ahead of us. Patience is certainly going to be an important virtue, but, if I wind up in a difficult scenario, then it's that last Skip Bo lesson- 'never give up' that we'll be turning to again and again.
Yikes! I didn't realize how much time had passed since my last posting!
It's not that I haven't had anything to write about. There's actually been times when I sat down to write- I just never actually started typing. I've got little scraps of paper all over the place, with long and short jottings of ideas for blog entries, and even some with experiences I absolutely, positively wanted to write about right away.
So I guess it's sort of ironic that when I finally pushed myself to sit down to write, the topic turns out to be 'waiting'.
We wait for so many things in life- for a lover to call, for a child to be born, for school years to end. We wait for smiles to start and tears to dry, for the weather to clear or for a storm to start.
Some just simply wait for time to pass.
It's all well and good to say that we shouldn't consume our lives with waiting; that it's up to us to make things happen. But, sometimes we aren't in control of events, and our only recourse is to wait. We can fool ourselves by finding all sorts of things to keep us busy so that we don't seem to be, or don't feel, that we're on edge waiting for that phone call, email, or test result- but that's all just camouflage. Waiting is hard; it's painful; it's frustrating.
I have a mantra that I use when the things I try to ease the stress of waiting don't work. I take a deep breath, and say:
"I am patience."
Sometimes I have to repeat it several times, but eventually it helps me clear my head and push aside my frustration, and move on- at least for a little while.
Sometimes you know that the wait will be short. Today, for example, I had to wait a bit for the roads to be reopened after the US Vice President passed by. As I sat in traffic, I wondered if he realized how many people his entourage was inconveniencing (that was after I asked why the heck he had to travel via a major highway instead of helicopter!), but I knew I'd soon be on my way.
I've learned ways to amuse myself while waiting on line at the post office, the bank, and the supermarket. That waiting is always fun here, as Israelis aren't known for their patience. I've enriched my Hebrew vocabulary in all sorts of interesting ways while waiting on those lines :-)
I have a friend who had to wait 2 weeks for the results of a biopsy. I don't know how she made it through that wait. I asked her about it, and she said that it wasn't easy, but she had no choice, so she managed somehow.
Unrequited waits can be tough. We wait for our weekly Friday morning phone call from our son, and we're on edge until his call comes through. If he misses that call, or if we don't get to speak to our grandchildren on the following Sunday, life just doesn't seem as bright. But we pull ourselves together, and get on with our week (hmm...or should I say 'camouflage')..
I'm stuck in the midst of a very frustrating waiting game right now. Two weeks ago, as I was putting lotion on my neck, I felt a lump in my throat. I was able to see my doctor the next day, and he sent me for an ultrasound which confirmed the presence of the lump. My doctor says the next step is surgery, but when he called to make an appointment with the surgeon he insisted was the best, he was told that he was out of the country for a conference, and wasn't scheduled to return for over a week.
So, I waited. The day he returned to Israel, the surgeon's office called to set up an appointment. But the earliest they could squeeze me in isn't for another 2 weeks, so I'm waiting again. Then, once I see him, I'll have to wait for an open date for the surgery. And, of course, once I have the surgery, there will be that other waiting....
In June, for my birthday, I treated myself to a 4-night cruise to Cyprus, Rhodes, and Mamaris, Turkey. I sailed on a reconditioned ferry, run by a small Israeli cruise line. We sailed out of Ashdod, and I soon learned that, aside from some crew members, I was the only English speaker aboard.
I wasn't fazed by that. I've been living in Israel for almost ten years, and by now I'm fairly fluent in Hebrew. I chuckled when I realized that all announcements were going to be only in Hebrew, but again, no problem- I understood every word. Food wasn't an issue, either, as after 10 years my tastes now often lean more toward the Israeli than American.
I signed up for shore excursions in each port, and once I decoded the Hebrew words for Cyprus, Athens and Rhodes (each roughly pronounced as 'Kafrisin', 'Atoona', and' Rodoos'), not only was I able to understand the guides' narratives, but I was able to participate in the question and answer give and takes that were a part of their repartee.
A substantial part of my enjoyment of that cruise was how easily I felt I fit in - no language barrier, and culturally, at least to the storekeepers in each port, I was as much of an Israeli as anyone else on the ship. For someone who will forever be known locally as an 'American,' being thought of as just another Israeli in the group was nice.
In general, although my accent will always disclose my immigrant roots, I've been pretty well absorbed into Israeli society. We have Israeli friends, with whom we speak only in Hebrew, and there are even some popular Israeli songs that I find myself humming more often than old English language favorites.
But, every now and then, we find ourselves in a situation that flies our immigrant status in our faces.
This past Saturday night was one of those times:
One of our friends is a retired music teacher, and every year he holds a sing-a-long in his home. 30 or so friends cram into his living room; song lyrics are projected onto a wall, and his sons accompany us on piano and flute.
My husband and I did our best to join in the singing, but we soon were stealing mirthful glances at each other. We were surrounded by friends who were belting out songs they had grown up with, and we enjoyed joining in as soon as we caught onto the melody. But aside from the occasional song we recognized (and gave ourselves a happy squeeze when we did), we were definitely in new territory.
To anyone who had grown up in Israel, or who had raised children or grandchildren here, the evening's songs were old, comfortable favorites. But to 'lone immigrants' like ourselves, who have no young ones at home or nearby, each song was a new revelation.
What a joy to be in a room filled with friends and song; all of us having a great time! And, while we were trying to catch on to each melody, we had a chance to carefully read the lyrics of each song, and gain a greater appreciation of their loveliness that we would have if we had been able to join in the singing from the first chord.
As we sat on that small couch towards the back of the living room, we knew we were also sitting on a small island of immigration- and that for as long as we lived in Israel, that couch would never be far away. To the surprise of neither of us, we're perfectly fine with that. We'll always have new lyrics to learn and enjoy, and the accompaniment of friends to help us learn the tune.
Last week we were running on emotions. Each day found us either at a funeral, paying a condolence call, or at a wedding. On top of that were very frustrating problems with a neighbor that led to legal intervention, so needless to say, it felt like the week would never come to an end.
Thank goodness the wedding was on Thursday night, so we had it to look forward to all week. And, on Tuesday, our son was in for a few hours, which made for a very special and much needed treat.
One of the funerals was of yet another person our age. He was someone we knew when we were teenagers, and when we opened our email in the evening to find the announcement of his death, and that his funeral was being held in half an hour, we wondered for a moment if we should attend, and then quickly got ready to go.
I think most of us expect that at some point in our lives, our friends are going to start dying. We just never thought that it would start happening while we were only in our 50s. When Sarah passed away earlier this year, we were very shaken, and filled with the surety that her untimely death was an anomaly. We spoke of learning to live life to its fullest, but I don't think it ever crossed our minds that Sarah's death marked the entrance of a new stage in our lives.
Aaron's death last week struck a different chord. As we were driving to the funeral, we started comparing ourselves to elderly people we've known who seemed to accept the death of a friend as an unavoidable eventuality that is mourned with a few tears, a shake of the head, and then a continuation of life.
Do you do that when the dead were still in the prime of life? Can you?
As I write this a week later, I understand that the answer is that yes, we do move on fairly quickly after the death of a friend. Their passing floods us with fond memories and strong emotions, but perhaps the difference is that at our age a friend's death also bears a very sharp touch of reality, and a determination to not let life slip by.
To Sarah and Aaron, may you rest in peace, and with dreams and hopes that all your friends enjoy life with you in mind, and that many more years pass before we find ourselves gathering at the funeral of another friend.
My husband just posted this quote on his Facebook page:
"Having faith in G-d means having faith in other people, and the measure of our righteousness lies in how many people we value, not in how many we condemn." Rabbi Sachs, Great Britain
I'll discuss faith in God in another post. Right now, I'd like to take a look at the end of the quote, 'how many people we value, not in how many we condemn.'
It's sort of a 'do you view the cup as half-empty, or half-full' type of thing, and I think it's a good measure of a person's character, and a guideline for each of us to use as a springboard for self-evaluation.
Lately, I've been coming across articles, letters, and editorials in all sorts of forums and publications that talk about how good manners, graciousness, and respect seem be falling by the wayside. Some say it's a symptom of the failing economy, others attribute it to a lack of parenting skills, and others say it's yet another result of the 'me generation.'
People complain about fellow travelers who cut in line, throw tantrums when their demands and/or expectations aren't met, and who generally behave as if they are the only ones who matter at any moment.
I've read of incidents involving a shameless lack of respect and compassion for the very young, for the elderly, and for the infirm.
Personally, I've noticed an alarming rise in people on eBay who accompany unreasonable demands with threats of leaving bad feedback, or of filing falsified claims of bad or deceptive services to the eBay 'authorities.'
I shake my head at all of these, and wonder is it that people don't want to get along, or is it that they don' t know how to?
We've all interacted with people who seem bitter with the world, who just seem to be brimming with anger. Many years ago, I had a small blow up at a friend, and when I had finished my little tantrum, he calmly asked me, 'so, do you feel better now?'
Over the years, his words have often echoed in my head, and I used to work at moving to the 'feel better now' stage without needing to throw the tantrum first. But, a couple of years ago, I decided that I wanted to get to a place in life where I didn't need the anger at all.
It seemed like an impossible goal, but it turned out to be easier than I ever imagined.
For brevity's sake, I'll jot down a short list of how I maintain a state of calmness, happiness, and acceptance:
I meditate daily, at least once a day, but if I feel under stress, I'll add another round or two. I've found that even just a few minutes of meditation is often all I need.
I tell myself to smile! I walk around with a smile on my face (and in my heart), and a bounce to my step.
I avoid people who have 'negative energy'- people who are always complaining, who can't or won't find a positive spin to a situation, or to life itself.
I never hesitate to lend a helping hand, a kind word, or a hug of support.
If I find myself in a difficult situation, I take a deep breath, brush off all negative thoughts, and then leap in to the challenge.
As I mentioned in a previous post, besides opening my eyes each morning with smiling expectations, I've experienced impressive improvements in my health, not only in my blood pressure, but also in every recent lab test.
I feel a sense of pity for people who can't shake off their anger and bitterness. I know men in their 60's who seem to revel in feelings of anger toward their parents. When I tried talking to them about it, asking them why at their age they didn't want to work through their feelings, they looked at me in confusion. They seemed to identify so strongly with that anger that they couldn't imagine separating from it.
I wonder: Are people who hold onto such intense anger toward another person expressing a sense of self anger? If you haven't found peace with yourself, can you feel peacefully toward another? (Yes- it seems like such 'psycho-pop', especially if that anger is being directed toward a parent. And if you groaned at that, just wait until you read my next paragraph..)
Taking a leap, and reflecting again on what I talked about in my 'Quest, and the Game of Life' post-
If on a personal level, we can't find peace within ourselves...if we can't show love and respect and compassion to others...if we approach life as a competition we have to win... then what chance is there for peace in the world?
Getting back to the quote from Rabbi Sachs, wouldn't it be lovely if we chose to speak highly of others, rather than to disparage them? When I was little, our rabbi's wife literally never had an unkind word about anyone. She could be talking about an extremely physically unattractive person, but by the way she described them, you would think they were a beauty queen. I had to grow up a bit to realize that she was talking about inner beauty, but I know that even at a young age I was in awe of the respect she showed for others. I'm still in awe of her, and every year, I strive harder to model even a small part of myself after her.
As my husband and daughter-in-law (and now myself) like to say, it's easy to be nice. And it makes a world of difference
Life lessons come from all sorts of experiences. We learn from our parents, teachers, friends, and even random people we meet on the street.
If we're lucky, the lesson will be clear and unmistakable, but some need a while to simmer- days, months, even years- before their message is absorbed.
I've learned some important lessons from games I've played.
When I was a kid, a bunch of us would gather on Saturday afternoons and play the game Risk. If you're not familiar with it, Risk is one of those 'conquer the world with your armies' type of games, and it involves rolls of the dice and some strategy; a game can easily last an hour or longer.
From the very first time I played the game, I had to win. I played with passion, with intensity, and with determination. As the years went by, my intensity grew each time I sat down to play, until one day I realized I wasn't having fun anymore. More than that- I didn't like the person I became when I played Risk. I was obsessed, controlling, and ruthless.
Just like that, I stopped playing. Not surprisingly, none of my friends objected to my bowing out of our games. Several years later, my husband and I played the game with some friends, and 'ruthless Ruth' came out again. That was the last time I even thought about playing Risk.
Fast forward 30 or so years, to the cruise I was on a few weeks ago.
On Royal Caribbean ships, a game called 'Quest' is played one night during the cruise. No one really talks about it (supposedly there's an understanding that you don't give out the details of the game); all they'll say is that it's an adults only scavenger hunt, and it'll have you rolling on the floor, laughing.
The game was scheduled for around 11pm on Thursday night. Happy, excited voices filled the air as people arrived to play. The ship's cruise director, who acted as MC and judge, divided the auditorium into teams, and looking stern, reminded everyone that the point was to have FUN, and that we were playing for key chains, for goodness sakes!
I thought his comments were a bit odd. No one ever mentioned to me that we were playing for any sort of prize. All I knew that the next hour was going to be a blast. I was, indeed, there to have FUN.
That's when I became aware of the people surrounding me. They were in an absolute frenzy, organizing, plotting, strategizing. Someone handed me a huge tote bag, bursting at the seams. "Quick- hide this!!"
I must have reacted slowly, because the next thing I knew, a woman seated near me jumped to her feet, and grabbed the bag out of my hands. "HIDE IT NOW!" she screamed.
That's when I saw the look in her eyes. A look that I recognized from long ago. It was my Risk look.
I touched her arm, and said softly, "Hey, we're here to have fun."
She pushed me away, and hissed words I prefer to forget, in a tone I'll never forget.
I knew that I had to get away from her, and quickly arranged to change my seat with someone in another row.
As I sat in my new seat, in the moments before the game began, I felt my eyes opening to a new reality, and I thought that maybe, just maybe, I understood the state of the world:
After all, if passions can run so strong over a GAME, then what chance do we have of creating a true and ever-lasting peace?!
[Quest was an absolute blast, BTW. Oh- if you think you'd like to try your hand at Risk (and maybe see if you'll become as ruthless as me), you can find an online version here.]
Gleeful painter (and maybe writer), vegan, grandmother, with an itch to travel, and a very positive outlook on life. Contentedly living in the Jerusalem hills.
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