In 868 A.D., according to Chinese historical records, a princess was said to have played a “leaf game.” One of the earliest known references to playing cards.

Since then, there have been just a few more sessions of folks gathering with a deck.

In the small, red brick house on Beech Street in Ashdown, Arkansas, many a game of spades, hearts, bridge, and canasta went well into the night.

Games were an inexpensive way for adults to gather at the Formica dinette table in the kitchen, enjoy each other’s company, and drink copious amounts of coffee.

Children were relegated to a card table in the living room, where you’d find a game of Monopoly, Clue, Risk, or Sorry taking place.

Southern homes of the 1960s were rarely air conditioned. We were lucky to have a swamp cooler (also called a water cooler) or an attic fan.

A swamp cooler cooled air by pulling hot outside air through water-soaked pads, while an attic fan exhausted hot air trapped above the ceiling in the attic. Together, they improved airflow, reduced heat buildup, and provided a poor man’s AC.

The attic fan also helped draw out the smoke emanating from the Marlboros and Pall Malls in the ashtrays on the Formica dinette set.

Each adult who smoked had their favorite ashtray. Dad’s looked like a Goodyear tire. Uncle Bill used one from a hotel the family had visited.

A complimentary ashtray, I’m sure.

Those were the sounds and smells of game night.

Oh, let’s not forget the RCA radio.

To complement the whirring of both the cooler and attic fan, a battery radio (pronounced bat-tree radio) played The Grand Ole Opry. I can still hear the distinct delivery of the Opry announcer. A booming, enthusiastic voice with a slow, deliberate delivery that made you feel like part of the family.

“You ain’t woman enough to take my man,” sang Loretta Lynn as you’d hear an adult in the kitchen ask their partner why they’d made the card bid they did.

“Six days on the road and I’m a gonna make it home tonight,” proclaimed Dave Dudley as one of the kids playing Monopoly begged a cousin not to charge them rent since they just paid to get out of jail.

Maybe not too dissimilar from situations that would lie ahead a few years later.

At the time, it was the family fun we knew. There were three channels on TV, but nothing on ABC, CBS, or NBC took priority over gaming with loved ones.

What has changed is how we now spend our time. Back then, entertainment wasn’t something delivered to us through a screen. We made our own. Family and friends gathered because there wasn’t much else competing for their attention. Nobody was checking text messages. Nobody was scrolling social media. If someone wanted to tell a story, everyone at the table heard it.

Hindsight, those card games were an excuse to spend time together.

The adults talked about work, church, family, and neighbors. The kids learned how grown-ups interacted. We learned when to listen, when to laugh, and when to keep our mouths shut. We learned that a disagreement didn’t mean a friendship was over. Two people could argue over a card game, laugh about it ten minutes later, and still be friends the next week.

There was something comforting about that routine. Friday night or Saturday night would roll around, and somebody would bring a deck of cards. Somebody else would put on a pot of percolator coffee. Before long, the table would fill up.

Nobody knew they were making memories. They were just living life.

Years later, after many of those players are gone and many of those houses have changed hands, the memories remain remarkably clear. I can still picture the cards spread across the table, hear the laughter coming from the kitchen, and the shuffling of a well-worn deck as another hand was dealt.

Funny how something as simple as a deck of cards can dominate that much of a lifetime’s memories.

Maybe there’d be more harmony among family and friends if we spent time together today like we did then. Sans the cigarettes, swamp coolers, and attic fans, and adding some AC.

There are advantages to living today (medical advances for example) but there’s a reason most of us would move back to something more like Mayberry, if just given the chance.

Getting together for a simple evening of visiting and cards was a great pastime in times past.

 

© 2026 John Moore

John’s, “Puns for Groan People” and two volumes about growing up in the South called, “Write of Passage,” are available at TheCountryWriter.com. John would like to hear from you at John@TheCountryWriter.com.