Nibs And Go’s

Jay was going to kill me. He didn’t like anything particularly messy. So, sloshing along the muddy path behind Carlson, with chocolatey dirt pudding caking around my rarely used dress shoes, the bluer the words I could imagine I’d hear upon my return. Although frankly, I’m more of a peach cobbler with graham cracker crust than a chocolate fan. That made me laugh. Weird trains of thought always fascinate and amuse me.

“Something funny?” Carlson mused without turning his head, continuing to trudge along on our snails pace mission. “Oh gosh… didn’t realize that was out loud. Just laughing at the guff I’ll get bringing home this mud.” “Heh, heh... If Bessie was still around she’d hose me down halfway cross the yard if I trekked this home. I still keep a plastic bag and a pair of beaters in the trunk to this day. Old man. Old habits.”

Carlson wasn’t old in my eyes. Probably close to 85, I guess that’s old. But he always looked so much younger to me than Grandpa Eddie, and they were supposedly right around the same age. At least I assumed they were. They’d been best buddies for over fifty years. Carlson’s shoes were caking too I could see, but he sallied forth despite the extra effort to lift his own dressy blacks. I wondered how often either of us wore them. Church maybe, for him. Parent teacher conferences for me. Funerals, most likely for both of us. I wondered how many more he had been to than I at his age. Probably many. We both added another today. Grandpa Eddie.

“Fifteen two, fifteen four, a pair is six and a run of three is nine. Crap really.” Eddie glided his peg along the blue lane stopping nine holes in. “Crap? Eddie, my last three hands barely hit that combined. So Quitcherbitchin! And ease up on the crackers. You’re feeding vermin again.” Eddie laughed and wiped the crumbs from their tree stump table to the gathering squirrels and chipmunks underfoot. “Ya know, life is like a graham cracker, Carl.” He held up a fresh one like it was a bejeweled chalice. “You can make an awful lotta things out of it, but it’s best when it’s simple.“ (crunch). “Your deal.” Carlson couldn’t help but smile. “Another one for the book.”

Grandpa Eddie died late January but the winter storm around that time kept its blistery pause on everything, so we waited until the first relenting break to hold a service. Sudden changes in temperature happen often in Wisconsin mid-February, and this week saw a jump of almost thirty degrees and holding, melting most everything in a matter of a few days. The service was short and perfect. The kids were a wreck. Jay was a rock. My sisters chose for me to speak the eulogy figuring my being a teacher meant I was more adept at public speaking. Probably right. I loved teaching. Always have. It was pretty much the driving force in my life. Well, that and my own kids… and Jay… and Grandpa. A sudden wave passed over me, or through me, I couldn’t really tell you which, but it was warm and powerful.

I sensed we were almost there, slow going as it was. I didn’t mind. Following behind Carlson in his dusty blazer and crocheted scarf, no doubt one Bessie had made for him, at such a pace allowed me to see everything around us in greater detail. And yet, I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering, blurring, turning everything into a beautiful impressionist landscape. “Here we are” Carlson finally muttered, hurtling me back to the present. We were standing in a clearing next to a small pristine waterfall. It was so clean and pure, with sheets of water pouring delicately over the rocky edge creating what looked like freshly blown glass before gently crashing to the stream below. The trees were still bare from winter, but I could imagine the lush green beauty it must be in the thick of summer.

“Gimme somethin’ good, old friend.” Carl already had his two crib cards discarded.“Hope it works out for ya,” Eddie said, laying two cards on the crib and cutting the deck. “Nibs! Haha!” Carl triumphantly slapped a jack face up on the remaining deck like he had just won the lottery. “Relax big guy. That’s two. You got miles to go before you sleep.” Eddie winked, acknowledging the rare occurrence. Carlson eyed the board. Eddie was a good ten paces ahead, and they were near rounding the corner into the final stretch, but confidence was high and Carl felt the surge of a turning tide.

We sat for a moment on the well worn stools silent, mesmerized by the flowing water, the smell of Spring just around the bend and the soft warm breeze promising new life soon in the surrounding woods. And then, with little effort, the words and stories started flowing like the water beside us. The countless cribbage games Carlson and Eddie played in this very spot. Missing his wife Bessie who passed away two summers ago. How much she adored Eddie. The loss of my father, my moving back here to teach shortly after. How I had longed for the seasons after having relocated to Georgia with Dad, his job transfer, mom and the family so many years ago, inspired to return, and did. How Grandpa Eddie and I spent countless hours connecting and bonding over our own cribbage sessions. Watching him fall in love with my kids, and Jay, and how he always insisted on playing us all one on one. That was his connection time, he insisted. How he had championed me without question when I came out after the divorce and stood by my side over protests of me teaching in a small Midwest town as an out gay man with kids and a partner, holding me up every time I wanted to lay down and give in. “They’re just ‘nibs and go’s’ he’d say.” The protests, the parents. Never the kids. “Meaningless moves.” Everything was a cribbage reference with Grandpa Eddie. “Dewey, my boy. You will jump right over them and peg out before they know what hit ‘em.” I paused. “He was right.” Carlson listened, smiled then reached out and laid a hand over mine. “He was your crib hand, Dewey. Whether it was your deal or not, he was always on your side. In your back pocket. An extra hand to play when you felt like folding. Mine too. Always was.” We both took in a deep breath, as if to hold in all the memories and moments for ourselves and never share them. We looked at each other, slowly exhaling into deep, wide, misty smiles. Then, without moving our gaze as if thinking as one, both of us said quietly together

“The Game.”

The final stretch. Carlson dealt, feeling confident for a comeback. The crib was set and Eddie reached to cut. Carlson slowly placed the five of diamonds on the top of the deck. Eddie grew uncharacteristically silent, but Carlson barely noticed as they moved through the pegging round, both racking up points and sliding their pegs forward. The squirrels and chipmunks bandied about gathering Eddie’s golden crumbs as they reached the round’s end. Eddie laid his final card, the jack of diamonds, and Carlson, finally realizing what was happening, barely whispered “go” and gently laid down his own meaningless final card. Everything fell silent, time stopped. It was as if the wind, the trees, the waterfall and the critters collectively paused to watch the magical moment. The two old friends held their breath as Eddie softly spread his cards. Three fives under the jack. The perfect hand. Twenty nine. Carlson spoke in a daze. “Another one for the book” The two of them looked at each other for a moment and then broke out in uncontrollable fits of laughter and joy, Eddie pegging out without even counting. There was no need.

“I have something for you, Dewey.” Carlson reached into his faded blazer pocket and pulled out a small black notebook, aged, creased and bound with a thick yellowed rubber band. “I honestly thought I’d lost this, but when Eddie died and I was looking through some old albums and boxes, I found it.” He held up the notebook and slowly removed the band holding it together. “This was the ledger I kept through all of our games and the time we spent together. Filled with quotes and observations from your Grandpa, memories we shared that I wanted to remember. And, I wrote down a score for every game we played. How much each of us won by. Oh, I won my fair share of games over time, trust me. But whenever Eddie won, for some reason he always won big. So, I wrote it all down. He used to rib me that we should make it a buck a point, but that would have left me penniless decades ago. I never did add them up. But apparently, Bessie did. She left a note right here in the notebook dated just before she passed on. I guess she knew her time was near.” Carlson began to tear up. “I suppose she meant for me to find this much sooner. But, better late than later, right?” He got that from Eddie. All the best ones came from him. “She knew the game and how much it meant to Eddie and me. To both our families. She saw how much you meant to Eddie and how you loved him… and the kids. All kids, really.” Carlson cleared his throat. “She also saw how many points he was ahead.” We both laughed. “Her wish was to see you carry on his legacy and his love for the game, not only with your family, but also with your students. So, she requested that on her death we honor the deal Eddie suggested. A dollar a point. Turns out it was 19,722 points in his favor.” I slowly brought my hand to my mouth. Surely he was joking. “Now, to be fair I had to add in the last two years of points from memory since they weren’t properly recorded in here.” He shook the small, weathered black notebook close to his smiling face. “This is for you. “ He handed over the notebook and a small piece of paper “Keep his memory alive, Dewey. Share the game.” It was a cashier’s check. For $20,000.

“Can you all hear me?” I hated microphones. I preferred the classroom… felt a better connection there. But, this was all right. This was the exception. “Yes, Mr. Dewey” the spotty unison of middle school voices clamored. I looked around. Familiar faces and dozens of newcomers filled every cafeteria table. It was the only space big enough to accommodate this crowd. The same strange warm wave I remember feeling on my walk with Carlson all those years ago passed through me again. “This… is the 10th year now of Cribbage Club, and I…” Applause, hoots and screams stopped me for a moment. “yup, yeah… pretty cool isn’t it? Look, I just want to welcome all the newcomers out there… and all you returning players. You’re hooked, I know it!” Laughter and giggles. “To kick off this new year, I want to share with you what my Grandpa Eddie once told me. He said ‘Life is like a cribbage game. There’s the starting gate, the twists and turns, getting ahead, falling behind, starting over. And along the way those little nibs and go’s will be biting at your heels, trying to slow you down.’ “May those nibs and go’s never slow you down, but inspire you to go further and reach higher. To nibs and go’s.” A sea of young hands raised up as one, each holding a single graham cracker square, repeated in perfect unison...

“To NIBS AND GO’S!”