War: A relatively simple game of cards
By Clara Caufield
Native Sun News Today Northern Cheyenne Correspondent
Well, I continue on the "Grandma" theme one more time.
As mentioned previously, it is my good fortune to have some adopted grandchildren, the progeny of my sister-friend, Cheryl who once went by the last name of True Blood, having been married to an Oglala guy and her grandchildren still carry that name and a strain of Oglala blood. Though born and raised in Sheridan, Wyoming, they have a great interest in hearing Cheyenne stories, as I am not that familiar with the Sioux versions.
But, I often remind them that the Cheyenne and Sioux are very much alike. “Just like us!” they will sometimes note.
A favorite is Fabel Tyme (A real name. Aren’t young people getting creative with monikers for their children?} She is diminutive in size, but not in spirit; a blonde, blue-eyed gamin, barely three feet tall. She wears twinkly earrings, lots of "bling" and hot pink plastic glasses, designed to eventually correct an eye that slightly casts to the right, making her look like a somewhat disoriented fairy princess or Barbie Doll.
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Last week, I called upon Cheryl, where Fabel is also a frequent visitor. As Cheryl and I engaged in a cribbage duel, little Fabel approached. “Grandma Crem,” she asked, “Can I sit on your lap and help you play?”
She cannot pronounce my nickname “Clem” and thus I have been dubbed ‘Grandma CREM’, sounding somewhat like a creature from Grimm’s fairy tales.
“Sure. But you have to be nice, put the cards down right (face-up) and don’t tell what cards we have in our hand. Your Grandma Cheryl would take advantage of that.”
“Okay,” she agreed, making a warm loveable lump in my lap and very nicely did a good job. With her astute help we trounced the other grandma by two points. Then in a slight sniff, Cheryl decided to tackle some porkchops for supper. Fabel then took possession of the vacant chair across from me, grabbing the cards, asking “Want to play War?”
“Sure.” War is a relatively simple game when played two-handed: the deck split evenly, cards laid down one-at-a-time, the player with the highest card gaining those trophies, tying to get all of them.
Since Fabel is barely five and just now in kindergarten, I thought this game might pose a learning opportunity. “You will have to count.”
“I can do that,” she happily agreed.
On the first flop, she placed nimble little fingers on the dots of both our cards, carefully and orally counting.
“What do I have?”
“A nine.”
“And you?”
“A seven.”
Clara Caufield, aka CREM (now fully apprised of not knowing "anything") can be reached at acheyennevoice@gmail.com
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