16 JUN 07: THE GAMES DADDIES PLAY

(BLOGGER'S NOTE: You may find this item humorous, serious, or a little of both - but we offer these thoughts from time to time, as we keep a seventh-day Sabbath.)

So, you may be wondering, where did my sudden interest in poker come from? The answer is simple - television, and all the poker tournaments it shows. Hey, at least the shows filled with sex and violence aren't corrupting me....

On this Father's Day weekend, I'm noting here that my father did NOT teach me how to play poker. His big card game was pinochle - but he never taught me how to play that, either. I know you need a special deck with a low card of eight. But I fear I'd get my decks mixed up, if someone wanted to play blackjack.

(My older brother taught me blackjack. I remember well a night when he came home from college for winter break, and played it with me in the living room using a University of Kansas "Jayhawk deck." Thankfully, my allowance never changed hands.)

Wednesday was Odd Fellows lodge night in my home town. Dad would go to the meeting hall on Leavenworth Road, and then apparently stick around to play pinochle until all hours of the night. I'm not sure if he gambled on it, and I'm not sure how often he won - but my home was one of the first in the neighborhood with a trash compactor.

New Year's Eve was also a big card-playing night for my dad - but I'm not exactly sure what game he played with a couple of his buddies. Mom tended to hustle me through the kitchen on those nights, as if you had to pour something from the liquor bottles on the counter in order to play.

Sad to say, there's something else I never learned from my father - a knowledge of God, Jesus and the Bible. While my mother was a Sunday School teacher of children, Dad only went to church for an occasional big event. He was barely what they call a "C-and-E Christian" - you know, Christmas and Easter.

When my Dad died six years ago, his funeral service was NOT at a church. Instead, the Pastor of our family's United Methodist church gave a eulogy at a funeral home. For some of my father's friends, it could have sparked a different sort of guessing game - would the minister try to preach my Dad into heaven, or someplace else?

The minister stopped short of doing that, in March 2001. Instead, she referred to my Dad as a "child of God" - which was a thought-provoking phrase for me. When I returned home, I did a detailed study of it. The results are posted online (and this link is now fixed), to help you know if your father is a "child of God" or not. I hope he is (or was), and I hope you are. Moving toward God isn't really a game of going "up or down" - it's more like moving forward toward goal.

P.S. Instant Message to Shaw High School: Did I read Friday's Ledger-Enquirer right -- only ONE student signed up for the new "Bible as literature" course? Does this mean all the other students attend Baptist churches -- or they're all athiests, and don't care?

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