My dad taught me to play chess.
When I was young, I was obsessed with games. Pretty much any game that I’d come across, I would be really into for a while. This might explain the fact that in adulthood, I am pretty much not into playing games, even at parties. 
But when I was like 7 or 8 years old, I was the game master.
It was around this time that my dad introduced me to this game called Chess. It was complicated. It had lots of strange rules. Old men played chess. I was *not* interested.
I wanted to play Monopoly (I think it had something to do with all the cash), I wanted to play LIFE. I played “Mall Madness” with my sister and her friends (remember that?). But I emphatically did not want to learn how to play chess. It seemed boring. Your opponent could take 15 minutes to make a move. Everything was weighed, considered and thought thru. I wanted more instant gratification to my game playing.
Couple this with the fact that my Dad and I didn’t have a lot in common when I was a kid. He is a tradesman, very blue collar and I was, well, different – as you can imagine. I was into creative things; art, theater, singing, nintendo, nintendo and nintendo. We didn’t have a lot of common ground. And here he was, trying to teach me this boring, old man’s game that none of my friends new how to play?
My Dad didn’t give up, however, and eventually I learned Chess. Once I understood the rules, and once I got over my need to do everything as fast as the nintendo – I became obsessed. I couldn’t get enough. I taught my friends to play (tho, not too well – so I could beat them.) They were totally impressed that I knew how to play this strange foreign game. I played my dad. I played my uncles at our family gatherings. I’d play chess with pretty much anyone I came across. I was a chess player.
Once in a while we’re put in a situation, or asked to learn a skill that seems tedious. It seems out of context, unimportant. It’s not as exciting as monopoly. Its not as fast paced as Sonic the Hedgehog on our best friend’s Sega. In this moment we have two options – we can resist it, instead focusing our attention where it’s always been, and casting it aside as worthless. Or, we can own up, go into it with both feet and just learn it. Or just do it, taking the little lesson into our life in whatever way it fits.
Eventually, I grew out of my game phase. Even Nintendo lost it’s luster. (Altho, I’m currently considering buying a Wii!)
A couple of years ago, I was on a plane coming home from Canada. I had been in Halifax and it was a long flight; at this point it was probably about 1am. A businessman, probably in his 50′s, was sitting across the isle from me on the nearly empty plane. we struck up conversation and he asked me if I’d like to play one of those travel edition chess sets with him. Enthusiastically, I said yes. He seemed surprised that I knew how to play (and that I was pretty decent.) He asked where I’d learned to play.
“My dad taught me.” I told him. He smiled. I imagine that he had taught his son to play, too. And for a moment, he imagined his son making a casual bond with a stranger over chess. And it made him proud. It made me proud too. Everything that I thought was important when I was 7 or 8 seems so distant. But Chess – the thing that I thought was so silly, so unimportant – well, Chess is here to stay.
Whenever I think of Chess, I think of my dad. We don’t have much in common, as far as people go. But he’s my dad, and he taught me how to play chess. Here I am, 20 years later, thankful that I took the time to learn.
