I can’t tell you how many times while working through Sara’s Math Learning Disorder, I’ve wracked my brain, trying to remember math lessons from early elementary. Did I find it easy?  Did I struggle?  If I found early math easy…I couldn’t help but wonder why. Loving math is Greg’s shtick.  Surviving it for the sake of science is mine.  And then I remembered my first math lessons, and nearly smacked my head into the wall for not thinking of this earlier: I’ve been playing Black Jack since I was 4 years old.

During a very rainy weekend at my Grandparents’ Lake House, when Grandma had run out of games and coloring books, Grandpa called me into the kitchen, set down a deck of cards, and told me he was going to teach me to “count to 21”.  It sounded awful.  Grandma bribed me with Pringles to at least try the game.  I never looked back.

I played Black Jack through my entire childhood, and was famous for taking money from Grandpa and his buddies.  By 6, I had developed my own strategy, and by 8, I spent the occasional Saturday surrounded by cigarette smoke and old men drinking Budweiser, wearing Grandpa’s Yankee Hat…just taking those fools’ money.  Uncle Rex had been warned, but one very sunny family vacation in Nags Head, NC…I took his money for an entire week.  We played on the beach.  We played on the porch.  We played before dinner and after dinner.  We played so much Black Jack, Grandma nearly forced us to quit, just so we’d go see the ocean.  We went fishing at 6 am one day, to make her happy.  We returned with fish and donuts, and sat down for the rest of the day with our deck of cards.  It was the best family vacation I’ve ever taken.

So it was settled; if Greg and I didn’t give Sara Math genes, maybe I passed on my love of betting in card games. Saturday afternoon, I put my theory to the test.  Sara had the game down in 5 minutes flat.  Kelly picked up on it with equal speed, but after a few hands (and 1 loss…4 year olds don’t part with money well), she decided she’d much rather play Strawberry Cafe (our imaginary restaurant, famous for its Strawberry Soup).  She served us imaginary food for the rest of the game. We played for about an hour, with our ginger ales and new lingo.  I taught her the hand gestures to hit, to stand, and how only really good players know how to slide their cards under their chips on a stand without moving the chips. We had to use an old deck of cards with a Jack Daniels logo (I know…it’s bad), because they were the easiest to count.  I wanted big spades and big hearts…easy to see, easy to count.

So there you have it….Black Jack, the fantastic math class that teaches addition, subtraction, algebra (an ace can be multiple quantities, which requires substitution), money, and strategy.  And now you know why our first cat was named Black Jack, may he RIP.  I called Grandpa as I tucked away the deck into its box, and he couldn’t stop laughing.  He laughed, and laughed…I haven’t heard him that happy since I named Kelly after him.  I could hear Grandma in heaven: “Oh Junior…now you’ve gone and done it.  That’s just what this family needs…another Black Jack player.”  Just one more hand Grandma…I promise.  Just one more hand.