Roulette in the backyard
I remember, at Christmastime, my parents were usually stumped as to what I’d like to receive for Christmas. It was beyond my abilities to show excitement over socks or a sweater. I never get cold, so who needs a sweater anyhow? There was an antidote to this barrage of un-fun gifts however.
Being devious little weasels, who hung out together constantly my cousin and I swapped Christmas lists. And since we were constant companions, my folks would ask him if he “happened to know” what I wanted and visa versa. This little scam worked for a few years until we got a bit too specific and were “busted”. But we had a good run for a while.
My folks while loving and caring (mostly) were woefully clueless as to what went on in their kids’ (any kids, really) minds. It was as if they could no longer remember themselves, or likely, my childhood was far too different than was theirs for them to have any idea. So when birthdays came ‘round it was often a disaster (moreso after being caught feeding answers to my cousin).
Now, understand, I also felt completely impotent and at their mercy. This never sat well with me. And as every kid knows, this is because we don’t have our own money; there is no way for an eight year old to earn any money, and since it was only given on birthdays I, like every kid suffered from a dearth of spending opportunities because of this.
I’d see things I wanted. My folks weren’t going to buy it. If “I” had my own money-” I thought, “Then I’d just buy it for myself!”
But on my 10th birthday I got one of the weirdest presents imaginable.
For that time- There is much more weirdness abroad now.
And it’s weird; really weird, if you think about it.
Most kids got baseball mitts as a birthday present, or other sports equipment… This was in the late 60’s not last week. Anyway, I got a complete gambling casino, chips, cards, dice in cages, rules to a dozen sorts of blackjack and poker… But the piece de resistance was the roulette wheel.
I learned how to spin it and start the marble, I practiced understanding the odds and betting.
Was all this a good pastime for a ten year old whose father was definitely not a con man or gambler? I don’t think my Dad ever saw any gambling first hand. He was that sort of guy.
So whereintheheck did the idea for the Casino in a box come from? It wasn’t me, nor my cousin.
To this day I have no idea.
Well, as kids will do, I made the most of it, in full knowledge that another birthday was a very long way off indeed, and Christmas was nearly half a year away.
A lifetime in little kid time!
So I talked all my friends into coming into my yard where I had everything set up on a series of card and picnic tables. And since it was all arranged in a semi circle, I could deal, croupier and sell chips from one location.
It was all well thought out, except for one important detail. Recall, I had no money, and so felt put upon by the Fates, bent on earning some money from my friends. I learned the odds, and strategies (I had nothing better to do with my spare time afterall!), so I was ready. I knew that the odds were always in the house’s favor; except in one circumstance:
However, all my friends were as penniless as was I.
The Roulette in the backyard was a one-time deal and from then on it gathered dust.
Even as a little kid, you didn’t need to hit me over the head with information.
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