Yahtzee

Memory is a weird thing. A couple of months ago, I had (yet another) senior moment. I went grocery shopping for some ingredients for a pasta meal. While in the store, I definitively recall picking up and examining a loaf of garlic bread, before deciding on a loaf of Italian bread.

That night, I prepared the pasta and partook of that Italian bread. So far, so good. The next evening, I didn’t feel like cooking again, so I was going to do the leftover deal. Inexplicably, I went looking for the garlic bread, even going so far as to ask Joe, Jr whether I had maybe left it in the trunk of the car. WTF? “Dad, we had Italian bread last night and the rest of it is currently in the bread box.” Oh yeah - shit!

On the other hand, I have no problem recalling vividly details from events and experiences that occurred 35 years ago. Prompted by some spam email that I received regarding online board games, I thought back to the old days playing the dice game of Yahtzee.

Yahtzee was one of the big games that we played in the mid 70s. Dad really liked it and would often solicit us  for a round of games on the weekends or in the evening. I would almost always play him – Laurey and Joni would join in sometimes as well.

Yahtzee met the first criteria for family entertainment at our house – the price was right! All you really needed was the 5 dice, some score sheets, and pencils. The tumbler was nice to have as well as those little (yellow?) chips for bonus Yahtzees, but one could make do without those. We were very frugal and would never throw out a score sheet until all game columns on the sheet were completely exhausted. (You could buy replacement score sheets downtown at McCrory's or Woolworth's, but I remember also creating our own score sheets on loose leaf paper as well if we completely ran out.)

The venue for our matches at 1521 Ninth Street would be the new oak kitchen table in the remodeled kitchen (not to be confused with that aesthetically challenged red table that preceded it). Those dice would crack like thunder when rolled on that wood. They could bounce pretty violently as well, so some control needed to be exercised. Dad used to get mildly pissed if you rolled the dice off the table accidentally. If you did it multiple times, he would be straight pissed.

Dad would typically have a cold one close by and I recall that frequently he would have a bowl of peanuts available as well.

We were a Planters family and ate lots of peanuts. Spanish Redskins were the primary variety, but Planters Mixed Nuts were also enjoyed. Around Christmas, Mom and Dad would really splurge and upgrade to Planters Cashew Nuts, but those bad boys were expensive and reserved for special occasions.

The Redskins were awesome. However, at the end of the lifecycle of a can of Redskins, you would have a collection of nothing but the skins with a peanut here or there. Of course, we would then just scarf down the skins.

With the Mixed Nuts, there was a different dynamic. Everyone would bogart the cashews, almonds, pecans, and to a lesser degree, the walnuts. So toward the bottom of the can, you would have nothing but the Brazils and the Filberts. Yuck. I’ll bet the cost-per-nut of the Brazils and Filberts was half of the other mixed nuts, but that these two varieties probably took up 70% of the volume of a can of Planters Mixed Nuts. A pure profit play. Bastards!

But I digress. Another detail I recall from the Yahtzee battles was the way that Dad would sign his score sheet: Cody ‘N’. Which was actually kind of cool, but a little puzzling as well. Cody is not the most popular name and it is not like there are others in the household with that first name but with a different last name. I also loved the single quotes. Almost expected there to be a trademark or copyright symbol next to it: Cody ‘N’ ™.

In terms of the game play, I would beat Dad seven out of ten times consistently – not that I was keeping track or anything. Dad favored a high-risk high-reward style of Yahtzee, He would always play for the Yahtzee and, if he was lucky, could pile up some really large scores (with multiple bonus chips each worth 100 points). I favored a more methodical, analytical approach that valued the Upper Section Bonus (35 points) and the Full House-Small Straight-Large Straight trifecta. In this respect, you could say that Dad, like Earl Weaver, played for the Three Run Homer and I was playing station-to-station like Billy Martin (circa 1982 with Ricky Henderson and the A’s).