My mother, Lea Roffe, was the best card player I ever knew.
(And if you knew her, she was the best card player you ever knew.)
All winter long, she would play in one poker game with the big boys in Las Vegas every day.
In the summer she would travel to Cannes and hole up there so she could gamble in Monte Carlo’s famous casino every night.
And as I have mentioned before, there was no game at which she didn’t excel. From Bingo to Bridge, from Craps to Canasta, she could beat your pants off.
Naturally, this kind of expertise was intriguing to some people.
Her grandson, Nick, for instance.
From an early age, they engaged in the art of the deal.
In The Dog House Sidebar: When Nick was in third grade, I got called into school by his teacher, Mrs. Hayden.
“Nick has been teaching the other children how to play Texas Hold ‘Em,” she reported unhappily. “You have to discourage this kind of behavior. It’s inappropriate.”
“I will,” I assured her. “But you have to understand that this is what he does with his grandmother. He has no idea that it’s wrong.”
And although Nick quickly knocked off playing Nathan Detroit on school days, he always picked Moo Moo’s brain for better ways to beat the House.
BTW, the REAL Nathan Detroit was my mother. Into her nineties, she was still playing in an illegal underground floating poker game. This, despite the fact that when she was in her eighties, it had been busted and the participants hauled off in paddy wagons. I know this because she called me in Aspen all het up.
“My game was raided today. But don’t worry. I crawled out the window with all of my chips!” she reported proudly.
I was dismayed.
“My God, Mother. You’re eighty-three years old. Can’t you find anything better to do?” I said wearily.
“What do you want me to do in my old age?” she challenged.
“I don’t know. Help the homeless. Read to the blind. Something.”
But I crapped out. You can’t change the pips on a die.
My mother died a year ago yesterday.
She had come out on top- a winner- after a lifetime of playing cards.
And I thought about what she had told me- and Nick- when we questioned her closely about how she had kept up a winning streak of such long-standing.
“Why do you always win?” we would ask her. “Tell us your secret.”
“It’s simple,” she’d say.
“You’ve got to play the hand you’re dealt.”
“Come on,” I’d scoff. “Are you telling me that skill is not a factor?”
“Nope.” She’d stand pat. “It’s all about luck. And I was lucky. I always got dealt very good cards.”
“You’re just being modest,” I’d say. “That can’t be true. Sure, you got good cards, but you had to know what to do with them.”
“No,” she’d insist. “I was just lucky. You can’t beat that.”
Well, I bow to a master. And as I get older, I’m starting to understand how luck- sheer dumb luck- plays a huge part in all our lives.
Sometimes you get dealt a busted flush and sometimes Life hands you a royal one.
You’ve just got to play the hand you’re dealt with as much grace and humor as you can muster.
Thanks, Mom.
Terrific post! Done with great wit, it was a quite a tribute to the best crap shooter around.
Thanks, my dear friend. She was one of a kind- just like you. (But in your case, it’s all about glamour, love and talent. Not cards.) Be sure and check out my FB post of this post later this morning.I bet you’ll recognize the photo. 😘♠️♣️♦️♥️
You seem to “know when to holdem”, “know when to foldem”
Keep on “holden”
You are on a hot streak
XOXOXO
Thanks, pal. I’m trying like heck to keep it going. Hope you’re feeling lucky today, too. ♠️♣️♥️♦️
Your mom is absolutely right!
I play Texas Hold ‘Em every Monday night in our clubhouse with the guys from the neighborhood.
You must play the hand you’re dealt and don’t beat yourself!
The same guys do not win every Monday.
It’s 75% luck!
Mom was right! She was a wise woman….
She was smart as a whip. She had her demons but she sure knew her onions. Thanks, Bernie. Have Kenny tell you his Ojibwa gin game story some time. ♠️♣️♥️♦️
Dear Ellen: As we both know and tend to talk about, we have been friends for a lovely long time … but Philosophy 101 about your mother and her card playing skills is one of the finest stories I have read. Yes, to both holdin” the right cards and always makin’ the best of them.
A great post and I enjoyed readin’ it.
Thinking of you … yesterday ..Joan
Oh, thank you so much, Joan. What a compliment coming from a discerning reader like you. This made my day. 😊♣️♦️♠️♥️
And be able to overcome the losses.
Absolutely, Richard. You’ve got 20:20 vision on this one. Thanks! 👁❤️♣️♦️♠️
Ellen, I love this tribute to your mother on the first anniversary of her death. I love it because I can imagine how crazy it must have been for you growing up and and as an adult with a parent with a gambling addiction. Yet you’re able to approach it now with a sense of humor. As it is for everyone else, we’re dealt with the parents we end up with – we don’t get to choose. Some got lucky – others didn’t. All those who weren’t as lucky as the others could do to survive was by keeping by their head above water and trying not to take it personally. I’m so glad you somehow survived with a sense of humor. You have my admiration and respect.
Thanks, Susan. Having a challenging non-conformist parent was extremely difficult. It was much worse as we all got older but my brother and I got through it because we had each other- and a sense of humor. Thank goodness. And again thanks for this very very nice comment. Really appreciate it. ♣️♦️♠️❤️
Are you sure you don’t have an absentee brother? That lady could have been my mom too. Right down to the box at Arlington or my co-producing Nathan Lane’s ‘Guys & Dolls’. Would have been my pleasure to hold 6th row-center for her Opening Night, 1992.
BTW, that’s J.K. Simmons on Nathan’s left, (Benny Southstreet). Neat piece, Ellen. As Ms. Adelaide said, “When you get off at Saratoga for the 14th time…..”
Hey, Bro. What are the odds? Funny that both our mothers had the same jones. Thanks for sharing, yes, I did notice him and what can I say? Sue me, Sue me, what can you do me…