We played a bunch of Pinochle while my dad and brother were in town last week. I've been playing this game with my family since I was about seven years old. At least, that's when I started sitting on my dad's or uncle's or grandmother's lap and "helping" them play. They taught me the rules and strategy and it wasn't long before I was playing on my own, and even winning occasionally against the adults.
At one point last week, my dad muttered to himself "I think that's all the trump" which got me thinking about playing cards. Part of the strategy I was taught with Pinochle was the importance of counting cards. You need to know how much trump is still out there and who probably has it. It's also good to know who has aces left, if there are any, along with which suits people are short in. If I play a 10 of clubs, I should know either that it will go all the way around or that my partner will trump it.
When I started playing more games with Kevin, our friends from college, and his high school friends, there was always this same assumption that people were counting cards. In Settlers of Catan it's more beneficial to steal cards from people who have what you want. And you know what people have by paying attention to what they draw. In Dominion, your strategy has to rely, in part, on what other people are drawing. If someone is grabbing all the offensive cards, you need to pick up some defensive cards and maybe grab a few of the offensive ones to prevent them from getting all of them. You should have a decent sense of not just the proportions of your own deck but those of your opponents as well.
I guess the point I'm making is that counting cards is always sort of assumed. Generally I lose a card game because I haven't been paying close enough attention to this or because I've miscounted. If I'm focused, I stand a much better chance of winning, because I know how certain plays are likely to go. Occasionally I get lucky and someone else hasn't been paying close enough attention, allowing me to sweep in with a surprise.
So it was confusing to me when I started playing games with some of my coworkers. This was part of project in which we were trying to develop a training type game (and perhaps I shouldn't expect too much from grunts). When I mentioned keeping track of these probabilities, they mostly wrote it off as impossible. Something only a genius would do. Who can keep all those numbers in their head?
It surprised me to learn that not everyone grows up counting cards. The probabilities associated with a deck of cards are so deeply ingrained in my head that it barely even feels like math any more.
I guess I'm wondering if anyone else has experienced this. I realize I'm probably working with a biased sample, but did you grow up counting cards? Do you consider it strategy or cheating (obviously casinos have opinions about this)? Do you think it's a mark of higher intelligence to keep track of probabilities? Or is it something anyone can learn to do?
Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Fire
On Monday evening I saw mention of a fire in Conifer, my home town. These things happen quite a bit, although this one was early. Fire season doesn't usually start until June, maybe late May. I called my mom to make sure she was okay and more or less put it out of my mind.
I woke up the next morning to a Facebook feed full of updates about the fire.
3000 acres. 0% containment. 5 structures lost. 1 fatality.
And thus began a near obsessive checking of the news. It was named the Lower North Fork Fire, frightening because I know a few guys who volunteer for the North Fork fire Department. I know even more people who were evacuated.
The news clip I watched of the evacuees featured an interview with my former history teacher, standing next to his wife who taught me geometry. The evacuation site, as always, was the high school and I tried to remember whether it was Spring Break or not. If it wasn't Spring Break, I knew that there would be some jerk out there rejoicing about the school cancellation. There was always some jerk grateful for the fire days.
I continued to check the news, but there weren't many changes. Some of this was good. Still only 3000 acres. Still only one fatality. But there was still no containment.
And then the number of structures increased from 5 to 10 to 20. There was still no containment, but a second body was found inside a burnt out house.
I'm not proud to admit that my first thought was "idiot". There's always someone who ignores the evacuation. They refuse to believe that their house will burn down. They think they can save their property with a hose and will. I've seen at least one example of success, but more often than not this strategy results in the loss of life as well as property.
It wasn't long before it was revealed that the two bodies were actually those of an elderly couple. Probably a couple who tried to escape and couldn't get out in time. My shame magnifies the tragedy.
The updates that come the next day aren't heartening. Close to 4000 acres burned. At least 27 structures destroyed. Still no containment.
The fire, it turns out, was started by a controlled burn that wasn't fully extinguished. These controlled burns are important to prevent fires. But someone let it smolder. And this year the weather hasn't been cooperating: hot and dry with lots of wind.
March is usually the snowiest month in Colorado. The high country gets feet of snow and the foothills get their fair share as well. This year there has been none. It's been 70 and sunny. Gorgeous, by all accounts. Except, of course, that this lack of moisture does nothing but increase the fire danger.
I've begun to suspect that this is why I love snow so much. The more snow, the less likely it is that my house will burn down. Snow means that I may be inconvenienced for a day or two, but that I won't lose everything I own. Even though I no longer live somewhere with high fire danger, I can't quite shake this mindset. A winter without snow is fundamentally wrong.
I still know what I would grab in case of evacuation. More than that, I know what I would grab if I had ten minutes to get out. Thirty minutes. An hour or two. I've prioritized my possessions and even arranged them so that it's easy to grab what I'd want to take. I know I'd still miss something crucial
I remember one summer when I just kept everything in a box so I could grab it without thinking.
The firefighters seem to be gaining ground. Containment is up to 15% and there haven't been any more fatalities. This is all good news and, barring extreme weather, the fire should be under control before too long.
It's still only March. Fire season isn't supposed to start this early, but it has. It's going to be a very long summer for the residents of Jefferson County. I just hope everyone stays safe.
I woke up the next morning to a Facebook feed full of updates about the fire.
3000 acres. 0% containment. 5 structures lost. 1 fatality.
And thus began a near obsessive checking of the news. It was named the Lower North Fork Fire, frightening because I know a few guys who volunteer for the North Fork fire Department. I know even more people who were evacuated.
The news clip I watched of the evacuees featured an interview with my former history teacher, standing next to his wife who taught me geometry. The evacuation site, as always, was the high school and I tried to remember whether it was Spring Break or not. If it wasn't Spring Break, I knew that there would be some jerk out there rejoicing about the school cancellation. There was always some jerk grateful for the fire days.
I continued to check the news, but there weren't many changes. Some of this was good. Still only 3000 acres. Still only one fatality. But there was still no containment.
And then the number of structures increased from 5 to 10 to 20. There was still no containment, but a second body was found inside a burnt out house.
I'm not proud to admit that my first thought was "idiot". There's always someone who ignores the evacuation. They refuse to believe that their house will burn down. They think they can save their property with a hose and will. I've seen at least one example of success, but more often than not this strategy results in the loss of life as well as property.
It wasn't long before it was revealed that the two bodies were actually those of an elderly couple. Probably a couple who tried to escape and couldn't get out in time. My shame magnifies the tragedy.
The updates that come the next day aren't heartening. Close to 4000 acres burned. At least 27 structures destroyed. Still no containment.
The fire, it turns out, was started by a controlled burn that wasn't fully extinguished. These controlled burns are important to prevent fires. But someone let it smolder. And this year the weather hasn't been cooperating: hot and dry with lots of wind.
March is usually the snowiest month in Colorado. The high country gets feet of snow and the foothills get their fair share as well. This year there has been none. It's been 70 and sunny. Gorgeous, by all accounts. Except, of course, that this lack of moisture does nothing but increase the fire danger.
I've begun to suspect that this is why I love snow so much. The more snow, the less likely it is that my house will burn down. Snow means that I may be inconvenienced for a day or two, but that I won't lose everything I own. Even though I no longer live somewhere with high fire danger, I can't quite shake this mindset. A winter without snow is fundamentally wrong.
I still know what I would grab in case of evacuation. More than that, I know what I would grab if I had ten minutes to get out. Thirty minutes. An hour or two. I've prioritized my possessions and even arranged them so that it's easy to grab what I'd want to take. I know I'd still miss something crucial
I remember one summer when I just kept everything in a box so I could grab it without thinking.
The firefighters seem to be gaining ground. Containment is up to 15% and there haven't been any more fatalities. This is all good news and, barring extreme weather, the fire should be under control before too long.
It's still only March. Fire season isn't supposed to start this early, but it has. It's going to be a very long summer for the residents of Jefferson County. I just hope everyone stays safe.
Friday, April 1, 2011
The Worst Prank
In fifth grade a few students in my class came up with a "brilliant" idea for an April Fools Day prank. They spent our morning art class discussing it, working out the details. I was sitting on the other side of the room with my friends, working on a painting of an apple. We had only the vaguest idea that they were planning something epic, something that would involve ketchup.
After lunch, the pranksters began to put their plan into action. The boy excused himself to the bathroom to get ready. It was all very natural; there no hint that something was amiss. He returned to his seat at the front of the room and waited for the right moment.
All of the sudden he fell out of his chair. The desk was knocked askance and he was on the floor convulsing. The students around him stood up and got out of the way, as the teacher hurried over. She commanded a student to call the nurse, get her there as quickly as possible, the boy was seizing.
The girl had been involved in the planning the prank that morning. She made the call without hesitation.
We stood in a ragged circle around him, trying to give the teacher room and still see what was going on. The school nurse arrived and we cleared out for her. The teacher was concerned that he had bitten his tongue, enough to make it bleed, possible enough to sever it. The was no room in my head for anything but fear and concern for the poor boy.
The nurse told the teacher that an ambulance was on the way, and the boy finally realized that his prank has gone on long enough. He stopped convulsing, sat up, and removed the ketchup packet from his mouth.
"April Fools."
It was sheepish, embarrassed. He knew he'd done wrong, gone too far. But there was pride there too. He had fooled us all. What a great actor!
The teacher was irate. Her voice was tightly controlled when she spoke. "Why would you do that?" A whisper trying not to be a scream.
"She was supposed to say April Fool." He pointed at the girl who had called the nurse, deflecting the anger.
"I got scared," the girl defended herself. "It looked so real." The compliment made him grin, but the teacher's attention had shifted so she didn't notice.
"You knew about this, too? And you called the nurse anyway? We called an ambulance. We thought there was something really wrong. Do you have any idea what you've done?" This was worse than yelling. The cold anger, the steely disappointment. The girl who'd called the nurse cowered under her glare, but managed to rally.
"It wasn't just me! Everyone knew!" She blurted, gesturing toward the rest of us. "We talked about it in art. And no one else said anything either!" Spread the blame around as much as possible.
Enough people confirmed that yes, they had been discussing a prank and a ketchup packet in art. We all became culpable. No one had spoken up; everyone would be punished.
We were divided into five groups, each assigned to a day of the week. When it was your day, you had to sacrifice your recess in order to help clean up the cafeteria after lunch. This system remained in place for the rest of the school year. It was harsh for those of us who hadn't truly been involved, a slap on the wrist for those who had. Unfair on all counts. Especially since the boy continued to be both a gifted actor and a complete jerk.
After lunch, the pranksters began to put their plan into action. The boy excused himself to the bathroom to get ready. It was all very natural; there no hint that something was amiss. He returned to his seat at the front of the room and waited for the right moment.
All of the sudden he fell out of his chair. The desk was knocked askance and he was on the floor convulsing. The students around him stood up and got out of the way, as the teacher hurried over. She commanded a student to call the nurse, get her there as quickly as possible, the boy was seizing.
The girl had been involved in the planning the prank that morning. She made the call without hesitation.
We stood in a ragged circle around him, trying to give the teacher room and still see what was going on. The school nurse arrived and we cleared out for her. The teacher was concerned that he had bitten his tongue, enough to make it bleed, possible enough to sever it. The was no room in my head for anything but fear and concern for the poor boy.
The nurse told the teacher that an ambulance was on the way, and the boy finally realized that his prank has gone on long enough. He stopped convulsing, sat up, and removed the ketchup packet from his mouth.
"April Fools."
It was sheepish, embarrassed. He knew he'd done wrong, gone too far. But there was pride there too. He had fooled us all. What a great actor!
The teacher was irate. Her voice was tightly controlled when she spoke. "Why would you do that?" A whisper trying not to be a scream.
"She was supposed to say April Fool." He pointed at the girl who had called the nurse, deflecting the anger.
"I got scared," the girl defended herself. "It looked so real." The compliment made him grin, but the teacher's attention had shifted so she didn't notice.
"You knew about this, too? And you called the nurse anyway? We called an ambulance. We thought there was something really wrong. Do you have any idea what you've done?" This was worse than yelling. The cold anger, the steely disappointment. The girl who'd called the nurse cowered under her glare, but managed to rally.
"It wasn't just me! Everyone knew!" She blurted, gesturing toward the rest of us. "We talked about it in art. And no one else said anything either!" Spread the blame around as much as possible.
Enough people confirmed that yes, they had been discussing a prank and a ketchup packet in art. We all became culpable. No one had spoken up; everyone would be punished.
We were divided into five groups, each assigned to a day of the week. When it was your day, you had to sacrifice your recess in order to help clean up the cafeteria after lunch. This system remained in place for the rest of the school year. It was harsh for those of us who hadn't truly been involved, a slap on the wrist for those who had. Unfair on all counts. Especially since the boy continued to be both a gifted actor and a complete jerk.
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