This Side Up

Sibling solidarity is tighter than money

John Howell
Posted 3/10/15

“No way. Never. You’re not getting it.”

I protested. “But this is really a good deal. You get Pennsylvania Railroad and all this money,” I said displaying a pile of 50s and a $100 bill …

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This Side Up

Sibling solidarity is tighter than money

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“No way. Never. You’re not getting it.”

I protested. “But this is really a good deal. You get Pennsylvania Railroad and all this money,” I said displaying a pile of 50s and a $100 bill in the mix.

Sydney wasn’t swayed. She held her ground.

“But you’re getting so much more than what you paid for it,” I tried.

“But you have that,” she countered pointing at the blue card in front of me.

“You get this and we’re in trouble.”

She held up the Park Place card tauntingly, waving it just out of reach.

I held up my Boardwalk card. It was no use; she wasn’t changing her mind.

But I had heard something, “we’re in trouble,” and while maybe not conscientiously planned, I was playing against both my twin granddaughters, Sydney and Alex.

In the last month I’ve played Monopoly twice, which is twice more than in the past 25 years.

My reintroduction to the board game came when Carol and I joined our son Jack’s family and daughter Diana and her daughter, Natalie, in Chicago. It was a snowy Friday afternoon [what else is new?] and Eddy, 9 and his sister Lucy, 11, wanted to play. The game was essentially the same, although the names of the familiar stretches of real estate were changed.

That game moved along quickly. We each were dealt five cards representing various properties and from the onset the trading started. Jack didn’t hesitate.

He was handing out cash, shedding odd lots of property and offering free passes in exchange for the parcels he sought to amass. It was obvious what he was doing, but the deals he offered were good. He wasn’t stealing anything. We all went along with his offers, figuring with the roll of the dice the outcome would improve our fate. Yes, chance is a part of the game, but not nearly as much as strategy. As soon as Jack could, he put up houses, and it wasn’t long before he was onto hotels. The outcome was obvious. He sat in front of a stack of dough. Red hotels lined one end of the board. Eddy was losing interest and in a desperate move, he handed his assets over to his sister.

“You can’t do that,” Jack argued.

“Yes I can, Dad,” he countered, “it’s in the rules.”

Rules. I was to learn a lot about rules.

The game was over.

I suspected the same might be true as I faced my 7-year-old granddaughters Saturday night. The winner would become obvious and before any of us filed bankruptcy, the game would conclude.

The outcome didn’t really matter. What had me intrigued is that the three of us were engaged in an activity and it was their choice that we play Monopoly.

Carol and I had agreed to baby-sit so Ted and Erica could join friends for dinner, but by mid-afternoon, Carol – who was recovering from a stomach bug – thought it better not to go. So, I had the kids to myself.

Erica left us with a huge bowl of popcorn and meticulously went over how to program the stove so I could heat my dinner of lasagna and broccoli. The twins had already eaten so I was set on that score.

I asked questions about school, but the girls weren’t really interested in talking. The TV offered an inane show featuring young teens that I was pleased the girls bored of and shut off.

I decided to have dinner and Sydney took charge setting the stove timer. She’s good at following instructions, the rules. As things cooked, they took me to their room and showed me their collection of Minecraft animals and how the device I had given them for Christmas projected a rainbow on the ceiling.

Back downstairs, I expected they would cuddle on the couch with their iPads while I ate.

iPads were of no interest, at least at that moment. I was pleased.

That’s when Monopoly was suggested. They set up on the living room carpet and I came over to join them with my lasagna.

Sydney volunteered to be the banker and with Alex’s help, piles of money, neatly divided by bills appeared at each of our corners. But unlike the game played in Chicago, none of the property cards were distributed. We would only get the chance to buy real estate if we happened to land on it. This was going to be a long game, very long.

I suggested we be dealt some real estate.

Alex informed me that is not the way they play the game.

I was being introduced to the rules, and, as I learned, they could change.

Alex was the quiet player, buying every property she landed on and mortgaging if necessary so as not to pass up another acquisition. Sydney piled up the cash and when she finally amassed three of the four railroads on the board, jumped up and danced around the board.

“I love railroads, love railroads. Wait till you land on one of my railroads.”

Then Alex landed on Park Place. Rather than buying it, which I was sure she would do, she announced she was going to auction it. There hadn’t been any auctions in Chicago. This was a new wrinkle.

It was a natural play for me. I’d have the two most expensive pieces of real estate and could start adding houses, maybe a hotel.

“I’ve got $100,” waiting to see what Sydney would do.

“Here’s $50,” she said holding up a blue note.

Well, it looked like I had Park Place.

I was in for a surprise.

“Sydney gets it,” Alex announced.

“But I was willing to pay twice as much.”

“I get to decide,” she said emphatically.

“Is that in the rules? Show me.”

“It’s the rule,” she pronounced, although she wouldn’t answer whether she would prefer $100 to $50. Sibling solidarity is tighter than money.

Sydney spent a lot of time in jail. That was her strategy to pass up turns, not shell out the $50 to be free and hope that we would pay her railroad fees. Alex put up houses on a select section while mortgaging the rest of her assets. By 10, no one had a clear lead. Alex decided it was time to brush her teeth and change into PJs. Sydney followed. They returned to the game.

But it was apparent none of us was in command.

There was no rule for it, but Sydney decided it was time to call it a draw.

We put everything away neatly, and 20 minutes later I was kissing them good night as they snuggled under the covers.

No doubt, I was the winner.

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  • mthompsondc

    Next: Parcheesi!

    Saturday, March 14, 2015 Report this