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A Turn of the Card

[日期:2007-05-05]   [字体: ]

 On Saturday afternoons, when I was about ten, my father often took me to a tiny sandwich shop in downtown Philadelphia, where he played gin rummy1 for money in a rear booth with dangerous-looking men.  They puffed continually on cigarettes and filled the air, already heavy with the odor of grilled meat and onions, with a sapphire haze.

       While they played cards, I killed time playing a pinball machine2 that glowed in a dark corner.  The machine mimicked bingo3, and if you won a certain number of games, the owner paid you for them.  This was back in the ‘60s and we were living on public assistance, so once, when I won four dollars, the thrill permeated4 my being.

       I didn’t fully realize it at the time, but my father was a compulsive5 gamblercraps6, horses and cards.  At times I did see the effects of his addiction7.  Household items would disappear, pawned8 to get a stake9 or to pay debts.  And I felt it in the tension between him and my mother.

       Apart from my pinball days, I did not gamble until I was about 30 and casinos10 came to Atlantic City—not far from my home in Philadelphia.

       That first time, I went to play the slots11 just for fun.  But when three flaming sevens came up and the machine spewed out 500 quarters12, I stood wide-eyed, my heart in a gallop.  The attraction was elemental—something deep in my blood, like love or fever.

       I had a woodworking business then and didn’t make a lot of money, but I found myself visiting the casinos more and more often.  I gave up slot machines for cards.  Blackjack13 was my game, and if I was winning, I’d stay at a table all night.

       Early one morning I found myself sitting with $3200 in chips14 piled in front of me.  Though my eyes felt gluey and my teeth coated, I’d played nonstop, chasing my need for action or juice the euphoric sensation that came with a big night.

       Occasionally I won lesser amounts, but losses were the norm.  After a while I was afraid to add it up—I knew it was thousands.  Still, I craved the bright overhead lights, the smooth GREen felt and the steady fall of the cards.  And so I kept going back to the tables to feed my secret hunger.

       I never felt that I had a problem.  I was not one of those people.  I had money in the bank.  I hadn’t pawned my machinery.  And my wife didn’t know the depth of my habit.

       One night in early winter 1994, I brought $1000 with me to Atlantic City and, over the course of two hours, lost it all.  I had dropped that much before, but usually it had taken longer.  Now I felt nauseated, agitated by the idle chatter, headachy from the smoke.

       Still, I went to an ATM15 and got another $1000.  Then I went to a $100 minimum table and sat down, determined to win back all my money—the blood pounding in my head.

       I lost eight straight hands16.  In a daze I somehow managed to push myself away from the table and headed to the nearest exit, an ugly anger building in my stomach.  Half-blind, I collided with a woman and knocked a bucket of quarters from her hands—they poured onto the carpeted floor in a metallic splash.  I did not stop, did not apologize.

       Out in the parking lot, I leaned my head against the cool steel of my car.  Then I started to kick it.  Again and again.

       Finally I got in and began driving home to Philadelphia.  As I went slipping down the cold, quiet streets at 4 a.m., past houses brightly decorated for Christmas, long-suppressed memories began flowing back to me.

       I was lying on an old battered sofa.  On the other side of our small living room, pushed into a corner, was a Christmas tree.  All of a sudden the front door was flung open and my father stumbled through, knocking over the tree.

       Somehow I knew what had happened—he had lost big money.  He began yelling in a rage17 at his luck, his stupidity, fate and the cards.  He kicked the tree and began to trample the presents.  And then he collapsed into a chair and sobbed.

       We all have obsessions and compulsions18, and I can’t pretend to know exactly what demons assailed my father, but I now fully understood which ones were driving me.

       As I pulled up to my house and parked my car, tears welled up in my eyes19.  I didn’t want my loved ones to experience the shame, disappointment and guilt that I had.  Nor did I ever again want to feel the misery I felt now.

       At that moment I made a bet with myself: You’ll never be able to stay away from the tables.  It was an audacious wager against my better naturea kind of inverted vow.  One I found that I had to make again each morning.  But thank God it’s a bet I have lost” for some 2600 sunrises.

 

From Reader’s Digest, December 2001

 

Notes:

1. 金罗美牌戏(一种较简单的牌戏,以得同色花10张牌为胜,全手牌少于10点时可摊牌叫停);

2. 弹球机,弹子机;

3. 宾戈游戏(一种彩票式的游戏,玩者使用一张有数字的牌,把开叫的号码记录在牌上。若牌上所有号码被开叫便可获胜。);

4. 弥漫,渗透;

5. 不能自拔的;

6. 双骰子赌博的游戏;

7. 癖好,做某事或对某物已上瘾;

8. 典当,抵押;

9. 赌金;

10. 夜总会,赌场;

11. 玩老虎机(投硬币式的赌法);

12. 两角五分的硬币;

13. 二十一点牌(一种坐庄牌戏,玩者力争取得21点总牌点,或比发牌人更接近21点,但不能超过);

14. (用于纸牌或赌博中的)圆形筹码;

15. 动取款机(Automated Teller Machine);

16. 八手牌;

17. 怒气冲天;

18. 无法摆脱的意念和冲动;

19. 眼泪夺眶而出

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