Some time in the late eighties, my grandparents (on the Wu side) came to visit from Taiwan. I think this trip happened after the Australian fam had done the rounds in Taiwan and Malaysia, so I must have met Grandpa and Grandma Wu already, but for some reason I remember their stay in Australia more than my time in Taipei. Maybe it was a longer trip, or maybe I was a little bit older and less overwhelmed by the hordes of new friends/family/strangers I came across whilst in Taipei.
Grandpa and Grandma Wu with my ma in between, my bro, me, and my Aussie ‘Nana’.
For all my shyness and stunted Mandarin skills as a kid, there are a couple of things that stuck with me about Grandpa Wu. He was the only family member I knew that smoked, and he somehow taught me how to play cards. Grandpa Wu didn’t know much English either, but through patient demonstration on his part and probably a whole bunch of bewildered smiling and nodding and copying on mine, I can say that I learned a form of Pyramid Solitaire from him.
I suppose this story could’ve gone a few ways… perhaps I could’ve learned how to gamble, or maybe my Grandpa might’ve let me win a few rounds of something to make me feel like I was outsmarting him. I’m sure we played other things, but I have the strongest memories of him laying out cards in that triangle pattern, and I’d be in awe of little things like his riffle shuffling, or finishing a game by clearing the deck from the table.
It wasn’t until later on in my life that I properly found out about Grandpa Wu’s military service – I’ll save that story for another time. I remember one of the photos Mum had of him after he died, perched in a corner of our living room. He was just in a regular suit jacket (not a uniform), and wore a few small ribbons above the breast pocket. Growing up, I figured that he’d done some kind of compulsory service and got the token medals for it… how wrong I was!
[SPOILER ALERT]: Grandpa Wu was kind of a big deal.But if there’s one thing I know about the military… it’s that no matter what rank or job you have, you sort of accidentally become good at killing time in those moments when you’re required to ‘hurry up and wait’. Classic means of doing so include, you know it, smoking and playing cards.
As the years have rolled on, I have mixed with various kinds of players and been taught many different card games. My primary school friends taught me War, and Cheat, and Spit, as well as a modified three-player version of Spit, which we dubbed Slag. I learned 500 from some bellringers. I think I picked up Hearts from that Windows version we used to crack out at LAN parties when we wanted a break from attacking each other (but had no table space left for physical cards). I can barely remember the game we played most in Willytown, but so much of my Tindal downtime between meals was burned on Uno, as well as Presidents and Arseholes. A couple of months ago some of my higher ups introduced me to Cribbage. The other weekend, I had the pleasure of introducing Sevens to some Darwin friends.
For all my recent obsessions with throwing bulk coin at complex, super strategic, not-inexpensive tabletop games, I still love the feeling of playing something with a regular deck of cards. I think it’s a weird combo of nerdy and cool that a mere card game can be universally appealing enough to transcend language, age, and cultural barriers. Shoutout to Grandpa Wu for either accidentally instilling a gambling addiction or giving me early insight into military life…
Playing games in general has given me this unexpected yet strangely useful means to connect with and learn about others. Maybe it’s just me, but I find that it’s a good sign when I can say I’ve enjoyed my time even if I didn’t win the game.
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