In the Middle

I had a weekend of what my best friend calls living "in the middle". Having lived much of my life noticing the highs and lows, I am now trying not only to notice but embrace the middle, all the life that is lived between the extremes. It doesn't make for such interesting stories, perhaps, but the stories of extreme sometimes overlook the beauty of the everyday. So a weekend of scritching the dog's ears, knitting a hat for a friend, having the time to speak to most of the people closest to me, tickling someone's fancy, whipping two opponents' butts in SCRABBLE, losing a few more games, and surprising a friend with a pot of soup were the "excitements" for me. And it was, to quote a friend, "just so".

Scrabble as Metaphor

I have been playing SCRABBLE online for about 18 months now, and admit that I am a total junkie. It has been fun, maddening, and oddly enough, a great learning experience in a Zen kind of way.

The truth of the matter is, I'm not very good. My vocabulary is good, not great, and my ability to see words from a jumble of letters is definitely lacking. But on I play, usually with people I know or want to get to know, and interestingly enough, I have gotten to know a lot about myself and others, particularly men.

One man I played with (and dated) kept winning and winning and winning with fantastic words I had never heard of. When I finally asked him if he had an amazing vocabulary or was it possible he cheated, he confessed (unembarassedly) that, of course, he used online tools to help him figure out words; that everyone did it, didn't I know? (Scrabble Helper = Viagra?) That I had to ask before he would tell me something like that, that the playing field had never been level from the beginning, was a great indicator of the non-Scrabble relationship.

Another man I played with (and dated - hmm, is there a pattern here?) was honest from the beginning about his desire to win, about his joy in playing with an equal partner, loved talking through his difficulties in the game and had no issue naming a problem he was having. He was like that in person, too - honest with his feelings (even if I didn't like them), comfortable stating his position.

One woman I played with, so gentle in regular life and so fierce a competitor online, was incredibly generous with her skill, pointing out plays (after she had won, of course) giving me tips, and continuing to play with me in spite of the fact that I did not give her stiff competition. I had already suspected she was a mensch; Scrabble proved it so. But in addition, it taught me that the rather one-dimensional picture I had of her was missing so much, and that engaging with someone in a different activity from our normal relationship let me in to a whole new aspect, deepening our relationship.

And then there's me. I have come to see in Scrabble that I often play impulsively, that the desire to make a play overcomes my ability to think through carefully, that once I latch on to a play that seems good, I stop looking at alternatives. I have also seen that if I give it time (one of the great joys of online Scrabble where there is little pressure to make your move), I can see things differently, that new words form where none had previously existed.

I don't think I'll ever be a very good Scrabble player, and recent games on a real board have proven that perhaps I have even gotten worse as my knowledge and experience have grown. But it sure has taught me a lot, and perhaps is my new relationship litmus test!

Playing Games

Often we use the phrase "playing games" about psychological games, subtle manipulation through unspoken messages we send to others. As I am trying to shed game-playing as a form of communication in relationships, I am struck by the very different and important role games have played in my life.

My dad was an avid crossword puzzler, conquering the Sunday New York Times puzzle weekly until Alzheimer's stole his brain. I watched him, envied his ability and vocabulary, and inherited his love of lazing away hours on a Sunday to do nothing but engage his brain and his loved ones with the challenge of a good puzzle. One of his favorite crossword puzzle stories was about the word "yatagan", a word which is apparently used frequently and which most of us have little use for in daily conversation.

My ex-husband, too, had a huge vocabulary and a strong facility for crossword puzzles. After his traumatic brain injury, it was sobering to watch as we spent long hours playing Boggle, watching him try to form words of more than two letters and attempt - and fail - to do even the Monday puzzles.

Since living alone, I have been drawn to online Scrabble and Lexulous with friends on Facebook. While I lose more than I win, I enjoy the challenge and, frankly, the contact with others. I began to know and ultimately date one of my opponents. I have learned more about one opponent than I ever imagined, and have been able to re-connect with an old friend through the game. I have learned that there is a community of players who are "assisted" using online tools, and a community who would never consider that. When people criticize the reality of community on FB, I have to counter with the attention of my Scrabble and Lex friends, some of whom pick up the phone in concern if they have not "heard" from me in a game for a few days.

And then came today, when I was handed the letters needed to form "yatagan", my dad's favorite word. Though it did not get me as many points as another combination of letters would have, I had to play the word - for Dad and for that connection.