The card game 500 has been a tradition in my family as far back as I can remember. A variation of whist or euchre, it has been around since 1904, according to Wikipedia. Apparently it was very popular until contract bridge came along, but I’ve only known two or three people outside of my family who have even heard of it. It’s easier to play than bridge, but harder than rummy or canasta and in my opinion more fun than pinochle. Fast-paced and challenging, it’s about equally dependent on luck and skill. The rules can be found in Hoyle’s Rules of Games and on the Internet but they’re not quite the same as ours, and we consider ours sacred.

My parents played 500 from my earliest memory, with my aunt and uncle, my paternal grandmother, and older cousins, whenever there was a gathering of relatives from my father’s side of the family. The terminology of the game was familiar to us kids long before we knew what any of it meant– right and left bower, no-trump and nullo, joker, widow. My brothers and I grew up listening to the adults laughing so hard as they played it that we wanted in on it, but it was too difficult for us. Finally learning how to play it was a rite of passage for one of my brothers and me; when we married, our spouses had to learn it; we taught our children; they taught their spouses; and today two of my grandsons are getting pretty good at it. Dad died at 70, but on his one hundredth birthday a few years ago we had a family reunion and a 500 tournament in his honor.

As soon as we sit down at the table and cut for deal, we’re in a good, safe, comfortable, happy place, of family memories, humor, and connection. The scorekeeper has a pad and pen, the cards are shuffled, the game begins. No matter who is at the table, in my mind my dad is always there. “They’re coming like little trained pigs,” he’d say complacently as he picked up his cards after the deal and looked at them one by one. I like to lead out decisively when I get the bid, joker first, the way he always did. How he loved the game, and how much brighter and more fun the world was when he was in it!

Various upstarts who have joined the family by marriage have tried to change the rules a little, wanting to bid six tricks instead of our arbitrary minimum of eight, wanting to force a bid instead of dealing a new hand when everyone passes. “You can do that after I die,” I tell them.