Dona E. Bowens

We just got over Memorial Day which means that BBQ season is in full swing now. Or as Black people call them, “Cookouts.” Along with the cookout comes the card playing and the card playing is usually a game of Spades. Black people play Spades like White people play Euchre. It’s ubiquitous, it’s assumed you’ve known how to play since 5th grade. I don’t know how to play. Everyone in my family knows how to play Spades but I guess I was absent that day…probably had my nose in a book or something. (And for the record, I don’t know how to play Euchre either.)

But now that I think about it, I never have witnessed anyone actually learning or teaching the game of Spades. In fact, serious players, and they are all serious players, seem wholly resistant to tutelage of any sort. Especially if you’re a grown ass adult trying to play catch up.

I fear that my Black card may be revoked one day for not knowing how to play Spades—that along with knowing only the first two lines of “Lift Every Voice and Sing.” To make matters worse, at a recent family function, I questioned why that particular song was the Black National Anthem—I mean, yeah I only know the first two lines but how is lifting voice in song somehow unique to Black folks? Admittedly, as a people, we sing better than most, but to center your anthem on singing? I was accused of being “an intellectual” for that observation. My personal vote for a Black National Anthem is James Brown’s “Say It Loud: I’m Black and I’m Proud.” It kinda cuts to the chase, which I can appreciate. But as usual, I digress…

Spades! In the corner of my mind I vaguely recall a failed lesson attempt. I don’t know who was my instructor but I do remember my eyes glazing over with all of the rules. Oof! This ain’t “Go-fish.” Why can’t all card games be like Go-fish? Whenever I’m invited to play Spades by some unknowing Black folks I readily confess, “I don’t know how to play.”

Upon that pronouncement the music screeches to a halt, all heads swivel in my direction and the looks on the faces is not unlike someone, having never seen or heard of a giraffe, having one suddenly walk right into your cookout. The look says, “What, dear lord in heaven, is this strange creature?”

“I just never had the patience to learn,” is my pat answer nowadays. One concerned sista, not believing me, put a caring hand on my shoulder and whispered, “Did you grow up religious? Like really religious.” I didn’t answer and let her believe her version of the truth since, for her, it seemed easier to digest than my lack of patience.

For about 6 days I was on a campaign to learn. Looked at some online tutorials and everything—but I soon became bored with those. In the end I decided that being a non-Spade player was much more of a conversation starter than the game itself.