Exterior Monologue...

Greetings and salutations—Bubbe’s back to describe someone you may have met at a mah jongg game.

I’ve named her after one of the most famous literary figures of all time—Hamlet. “To pass or not to pass?” “To throw or not to throw?” “To call or not to call?” “To…” Oh, just make up your mind, already!!

Ms. Hamlet’s articulations aren’t as profound as her Shakespearean namesake’s. In  Searching for Bubbe Fischer, I write about the player who dithers or self-talks, musing aloud and unable to make up her mind about any little thing. “Was that a six or a nine? I think they already threw two of those. Wait, let me count my tiles. What if I just switch these? Give me a second.” I’m not talking about a newbie here, I’m talking about someone with years of experience who still holds up the game.

Perhaps she doesn’t even realize that she’s doing it. Each of us has our own interior monologue, but it stays interior--most don’t feel the need to broadcast it. Imagine Ms. Hamlet going through her entire day without a filter, expressing whatever comes across the transom: “Should I make broccoli tonight, or zucchini? When’s the last time I got the oil changed? It looks like there’s construction going on across the street. When did Diane stop coloring her hair? She looks awful!”

She’d have no problem behaving that way in public—nowadays many people use blue-tooth headsets, so no one thinks twice if someone appears to be talking to herself. However, her mahj mates know what she’s really up to, and are frustrated with her constant chatter. It slows the game down and then they forget whose turn it is; they can’t focus on their tiles. Hmm…could that be her intention?!?

What causes Ms. Hamlet’s behavior? Is there any cure for the rest of us? She may have lost confidence in her mah jongg ability, and uses self-talk as a coping strategy. Perhaps it’s a holdover from early motherhood--many of us provided running commentary for our toddler companions, but stopped when they were old enough to put in earbuds and tune us out. Maybe she’s used to talking to her pets.

The kindest solution is to say, “Hamlet, dear, we are trying to concentrate on our own hands. Please keep your thoughts to yourself, and try to be mindful of the time.” The snarkier among us might start to answer her queries. A group I played with, years ago, came up with another solution. We only allowed our Hamlet three outbursts per session. “That’s one, Elsie,” we’d say. “You can’t keep holding up the game like this.” She usually got the hint and stopped after the second soliloquy.

If she persists even after you’ve asked her, time and again, to please get on with the game—and to please keep quiet and stop distracting everyone else—then you need to evaluate. Maybe you and Ms. Hamlet can take up a different hobby together. If you just can’t bear to change the way your group is configured, I suggest getting an egg timer and some ear plugs.

We’ll see who turns up at the table next time—if you have ideas you’d like to share, email me at bubbefischer@gmail.com . I’d love to hear your stories. 

Bubbe Fischer

P.S. On a serious note—I’m neither a gerontologist nor neurologist, but if someone’s behavior at the table has significantly deteriorated (increasingly forgetful, chronically indecisive or disoriented), it could be a sign of other issues. If you have a regular game with this person and know her family, tell them you’re concerned. The above article was meant to be in fun, but your friend’s confusion could be a symptom of more serious medical problems.

Does Size Matter?

Greetings and salutations from Bubbe, musing about which matters more: length or strength of passion (in regard to experience with mah jongg, of course!).

Long-time exposure to mahj could be merely an accident of birth. Some people I’ve met have known about mah jongg since infancy. Those who never took up the game tell me they remember hearing words like “bam” and “crak” coming from the living room, or that they were sometimes allowed to make little “brick houses” out of the tiles. Of course, there are many others who watched their mothers and grandmothers play, and followed right along. It was always part of their lives, first on the periphery but now as a weekly (or even daily) activity.  

Other people may think they know mahj. They are the ones who, when they hear the words “mah jongg,” reflexively think of those crazy solitaire games. At least they have a vague idea of what the tiles look like, but really, what they’re talking about is identical to any number of memory/matching games. They have no idea what we’re doing, at our little tables of four.

On the other end of the scale are those people who know literally nothing about the game. Sometimes when I say something about mah jongg, they stare at me blankly. 

“Mar jong? Is that self-defense?”

“You say it’s a game? Is it like Bunko?”’

Or, of course, my very favorite: “Who’s she?”

I try to explain that it’s kind of like four-person Gin Rummy, or that it uses ceramic pieces that are kind of like dominoes, but I don’t know if it resonates with them at all. I’d like to think that this game can become “big,” nationally. Certainly the Chinese version is hugely popular in certain sections of the U.S., as well as Wright Patterson among military families, but there’s no reason why NMJL rules version can’t one day become as popular as Canasta and (I fervently hope) Bridge. It’s fun, it’s exciting, it’s challenging, it’s ever-changing—what’s not to love?

But of course, I’m preaching to the choir, here. The majority of you love the game as much as I do, or you wouldn’t be reading this blog….there are the occasional few who just read it because they love their Bubbe (who can blame them?), but perhaps even you will take up the tiles.

No, the reason I’m thinking about length vs. strength is because I’m a recent convert to the game.  I only began playing in 2003, which is a very short time compared to the lifers I described, above. To them, I’ll always be a newcomer, but I’d like to think that my passion for the game makes up for my (relative) inexperience.

To those of you who have taken the game up even more recently than I, take heart! I believe you can fall just as head-over-heels. The basic strategies stay the same, so as long as you take good lessons (perhaps you’d like to read Searching for Bubbe Fischer? You can get it here: http://a.co/3qflKc7) and take your training seriously, I think you can become as good a player as any veteran. You absolutely can be as devoted as any of them. And the card changes every single year: comeApril, you can get up-to-speed and be ready to take on someone who’s been playing since the Eisenhower era!

My conclusion: it’s not length, but strength of devotion, that makes for a happy relationship with mahj!

Bubbe Fischer

Valentine Bouquet

Bubbe is FINALLY back....that is, her computer is finally back from being repaired. I've been here all along.

In honor of VALENTINE'S DAY, I'm running an old column about a funny dream I had. Remember, it refers to the 2014 card, but there's still a lesson here for everyone:

Greetings and salutations from still-frozen New Jersey!

If you haven’t read my book, you might think I’m strict about rules. As you get to know me, you’ll realize that I can make broad, sweeping pronouncements—like when to call for an exposure, or what you should never pass in a Charleston—and then turn around and recommend that you do the opposite, depending on the situation. I’m in good company:

“Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

Walt Whitman, "Song of Myself"

There’s nothing wrong with a little inconsistency, now and then. You need to know when and how to be flexible.

So I’m flexibly writing an extra article this week because I have a vision to share with you. It came to me as I woke up this morning. It might have been inspired by all those cupid and lace decorations at the Hallmark store, or that radio ad for discount roses, but I suddenly pictured three flowers. Very pretty, but as far as mah jongg goes, they can be a blessing or a curse. Let me illustrate my point.

Think about the moment, full of chaos and potential, when you turn over your tiles. You get to see what you’ve been given to work with, and to determine which pattern, if any, leaps out at you. 

What if you begin with three Flowers? They can be useful in lots of ways. Almost every section of the 2014 National Mah Jongg League card includes an open hand with FFFF, a kong (foursome) of Flowers, and it’s great to be able to call for that exposure without having to use a joker. Those three Flowers can certainly be a blessing.

Then again, they can throw you off-kilter. It’s possible that your other tiles won’t fit any of those specific Flower-kong hands. The current card has no 2468 or 369 combinations using four Flowers. Obviously, the Singles and Pairs options never include more than two. What if all those Flowers just don’t jibe with your game plan? 

That tempting little trio of tiles, winking up at you, can make you feel guilty. It’s a shame to waste them; surely there must be some way they can be used? Perhaps you could break up your other groupings in order to take advantage of the Flowers. Maybe you ought to switch to a different hand, so that you can call for that easy kong. It’s hard to pass up such a golden opportunity. You might give in and keep those Flowers, rebuilding your hand around them, even though your tiles aren’t well-matched.

It may be that you choose a hand that only requires two of the three, so you’ve got a superfluous Flower tile. It happens to be near the top of my list of “things you should never pass”—unless you’re stuck. If you find yourself with no other option for passing, and you can’t steal, then you’ll just have to give someone a Flower. It’s Valentine’s Day. They’ll appreciate the gesture.

What if you select a hand that doesn’t need any Flowers at all? Should you hold onto all three during the Charleston? Never (and I mean it this time) never pass two Flowers at once. There’s got to be a way around it. Spill your coffee all over the table. Break your glasses. Fake an emergency phone call. Okay, it’s not worth lying, but really: if you can at all avoid it, do not pass a pair of Flowers.

The one thing you might do, if you’re absolutely sure you won’t need them and you’re otherwise stuck for ideas, is give away the full pung (threesome), all at once. The recipient will never forget the time someone passed her three Flowers…and now it’s her blessing or curse. 

What’s the strangest pass you ever gave or received? Contact me at bubbefischer@gmail.com; I’d love to hear your mah jongg stories.   

See you next week, for sure!

Bubbe Fischer