For those of you who don't know, Mom is very competitive. I always remember her telling me how hard it was to play games with Dad's family, because they would be playing Scrabble and would help each other in a communal effort. With Dad and his family, every round was a "practice round." That camaraderie didn't fly for Mom, though. She was used to the cut-throat game rules of the Adams family, where Scrabble words were challenged with a Dictionary and Canadian spellings like "colour" were completely unacceptable.
Though Mom would never be a poor sport after losing a game, she loves winning. I remember when I was about 16, Mom had become an accomplished Free Cell...player? Cellist? Anyway, I remember her bragging to me about how she had won 30 games in a row. She was so proud of her record that I decided to beat it. I couldn't replicate the feat, but I figured out if I was about to lose a game, I could simply restart the computer and my terminally ill Free Cell game would close out with no loss being recorded. So, after about 15 restarts, I had beaten Mom's record fair and square. But she had an unconquerable spirit. She still beat my new record and then went on to master spider solitaire.
Another example of mom's competitive spirit happened when we were in China. Mom climbed higher on the Great Wall than anybody else. When we got back to the tour bus, Mom proudly announced that she had climbed higher than anybody else in the family. I was so annoyed because I didn't even know it was a competition. I had been walking right next to her and it seemed like she only went like 50 yards farther than I did. "Duhhh," I thought. "I could have climbed way higher than she did if I had known it were a competition." The fact that it bugged me made me realize how much of her competitive nature had been passed down to me. It's the same nature that makes you want to put in the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle.
But perhaps my favorite memory of Mom playing games came a couple of years ago after a hard-fought battle of Scum. During the game, Mom had risen from the ranks of low scum all the way to King. She became king on the predeclared final round of the game. She was beaming and was so visibly elated at her victory that one of the brothers asked her if she was going to cry, which triggered tears of triumph. Later that night, before the Ambien had set in, Mom was nested in her bed with her heated rice bags, reading her scriptures. I came in to give her some ice water before she went to bed. I gave her a hug and kiss goodnight, but as I turned to walk away, I felt her hand latch onto my wrist and pull be back towards her. Her grip tightened and she looked at me with the eyes of a little kid on Christmas and said, "I'm so happy I WON!" It made me smile to know that her victory from hours before was still giving her joy.
Mom's competitive drive hasn't just been helpful for winning games and finishing thousands of books on tape. It has helped her to be the best that she can be. Mom's competitive nature isn't selfish either. When she likes the soup at a restaurant, she is determined to make a better version at home, and then she shares the recipe with everyone she knows. She finds joy in being the greatest she can be and has helped instill in her posterity that they, too, can be great--that they are special.
Though Mom would never be a poor sport after losing a game, she loves winning. I remember when I was about 16, Mom had become an accomplished Free Cell...player? Cellist? Anyway, I remember her bragging to me about how she had won 30 games in a row. She was so proud of her record that I decided to beat it. I couldn't replicate the feat, but I figured out if I was about to lose a game, I could simply restart the computer and my terminally ill Free Cell game would close out with no loss being recorded. So, after about 15 restarts, I had beaten Mom's record fair and square. But she had an unconquerable spirit. She still beat my new record and then went on to master spider solitaire.
Another example of mom's competitive spirit happened when we were in China. Mom climbed higher on the Great Wall than anybody else. When we got back to the tour bus, Mom proudly announced that she had climbed higher than anybody else in the family. I was so annoyed because I didn't even know it was a competition. I had been walking right next to her and it seemed like she only went like 50 yards farther than I did. "Duhhh," I thought. "I could have climbed way higher than she did if I had known it were a competition." The fact that it bugged me made me realize how much of her competitive nature had been passed down to me. It's the same nature that makes you want to put in the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle.
But perhaps my favorite memory of Mom playing games came a couple of years ago after a hard-fought battle of Scum. During the game, Mom had risen from the ranks of low scum all the way to King. She became king on the predeclared final round of the game. She was beaming and was so visibly elated at her victory that one of the brothers asked her if she was going to cry, which triggered tears of triumph. Later that night, before the Ambien had set in, Mom was nested in her bed with her heated rice bags, reading her scriptures. I came in to give her some ice water before she went to bed. I gave her a hug and kiss goodnight, but as I turned to walk away, I felt her hand latch onto my wrist and pull be back towards her. Her grip tightened and she looked at me with the eyes of a little kid on Christmas and said, "I'm so happy I WON!" It made me smile to know that her victory from hours before was still giving her joy.
Mom's competitive drive hasn't just been helpful for winning games and finishing thousands of books on tape. It has helped her to be the best that she can be. Mom's competitive nature isn't selfish either. When she likes the soup at a restaurant, she is determined to make a better version at home, and then she shares the recipe with everyone she knows. She finds joy in being the greatest she can be and has helped instill in her posterity that they, too, can be great--that they are special.
I so remember that scum game. It still brings a smile to my face every time I remember Ruth Ann crying over her win. It was a beautiful thing. So true about sharing her recipes and ideas with others too. Love you Ruth Ann.
ReplyDeletesame! i remember that game, too! In fact, just shared that story with some friends a few weeks back. They didn't get why it was so funny - but to me, it is a perfect (and hilarious) memory. thanks for sharing, bubs!! love you mum!
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