Julia Roberts once told talk show host Stephen Colbert that the goal of a round of mahjong is to “create order out of chaos based on the random drawing of tiles.”
I can attest to the chaos.
I won my first-ever mahjong round on Tuesday morning (Nov. 12) at the Butterfield Library in Cold Spring under the patient tutelage of Linda Weinstein, who started teaching the game there last year.
Throughout the game, my mind spun as I tried to make sense of the myriad rules that involve constantly exchanging tiles with mystifying names like “bam” and “dot” and “crack.”
I won thanks to the dumb luck of picking three jokers that completed my hand of two flowers, two fives, three sevens and … you get the idea.
Linda is an excellent teacher and helped me select the best hand from the 50 or so options listed on the National Mah Jongg League card I had in front of me. Even then, I kept mixing up the hand Linda picked for me with the one listed right next to it. But a win is a win.
How I avoided ever playing mahjong during my 63 years as a Jew is a mystery. As a kid in Atlanta, my family belonged to the Standard Club, an all-Jewish country club at a time when Jews were excluded from most clubs in town. The clubhouse’s cardroom always had women playing mahjong. Both my grandmothers played, though my father’s mother, Helen Asher, a wonderful painter, didn’t care for games and often sat out the club’s Tuesday night gin contests.
We have her mahjong set somewhere in storage. My uncle Norman said a relative purchased it on a business trip to China. As children, Norman and my dad would pelt each other with the ivory tiles.
We do have a bona fide mahjong expert in the family, my cousin Carol Fry, who divides her time between Atlanta and the Tampa area. She plays twice a week and tours the country to attend four or five tournaments each year. She has finished in the money a few times, once winning $400.
When I asked if her background as an accountant made her good at mahjong, she said it was more significant that she has a “game brain.” I can do a crossword puzzle, but I don’t have a game brain. I’d rather fish, play tennis or draw.
Since moving to Philipstown after retiring from our Atlanta business, my wife Johanna and I have been trying to find a common hobby. We’ve tried bridge and salsa dancing. Neither stuck. Now we’re onto mahjong. Johanna also attended the coaching session with our friends Steven and Laurey Goldberg. Steve’s mother is a killer mahjong player, despite cognitive issues that come with advancing age. “It’s a different part of the brain,” explains Steve, a retired physician. “It’s like how some people with Parkinson’s can dance, but they can’t walk.”
I’m still not sure whether mahjong is for me. I found the rules confusing. My wife, who loves jigsaw puzzles, seems better suited.
But I did win. I told Linda we would return for another lesson. If it still doesn’t take, I’ve heard that many couples enjoy bird-watching.
