The Estes
"Golden" Family Reunion
Monday (continued)
So we spend time trying to get the matches to strike
on the smooth striking surface, one flicking on when I strike it tight
toward me and immediately snuffing out -- just enough hope to keep us
at it.
"Strike toward Marilyn," Wayne instructs us. "It
seems to work when
it's more dangerous."
I get a few more strikes and then it just burns
through the pink match
head, the wooden stick of the match seemingly too damp from its days of
living in an open air pavilion. Still, between the snuffed
matches and the ones that just won't strike, I'm building an impressive
pile of matchstick kindling. Dad holds up a few pieces of the
split matchsticks and even some non-struck-but-damp matches, waiting
for a flame, and then it snuffs out before it can make it to Dad's
kindling an inch away. Eventually Wayne returns from a rainy trek
with dry matches Dad had somewhere ("Films, Inc. Cotton Club"
matches that were created during Larry's first post-college job 30
years ago, which amuses all), and we get a small kindling fire going,
using the twigs, leaves, matchsticks and, at this point, the torn-up
matchbox. It smokes the charred logs for a very few minutes, but
eventually Wayne inspects the matchstick kindling and notes, "It's not
even burning the match heads!"
Then our attention turns to the ultimate checker
game taking place at the table behind us between Larry and Jen, an
apparent rematch from the day's earlier game. (The rain has died
down enough to send most of the chillier members of the crew back
inside, despite the earlier runs for jackets in Wayne's van.)
I sit on the table behind Larry's shoulder, Wayne
stands opposite me at Jennifer's shoulder, and Allison sits at the
table with them, eager to help move the pieces for them or add red
"king" pieces to Larry's kingdom. We coach Jen and Larry tells us
to stop.
A few moves, a little chatter, a few moves, and "Did
Larry just move
black?" I ask.
"Yes," Wayne answers.
"I did?" asks Larry, dumbfounded. "Well, I was
black in the last
game."
More moves, more chatter, and Wayne replies, "Larry
moved black
again."
"Oh!"
More intense coaching, more help from Allison moving
the pieces per our
suggestions before the players can move them, and the board is laden
with kings -- five red kings versus three black kings.
More coaching, me here, Wayne there, and Wayne
suggests a move to Jen
that makes me go, "No."
"Yes," Wayne assures her, and she moves and Larry
jumps her.
"See?" I said.
"I'm ready for this game to end," Wayne admits with
a tired
shrug.
Move and move and it's down to four-to-one.
Larry wins, and Jen
reluctantly shakes hands with him, eventual good sports all around.
We head back to our rooms for an hour of rest before
dinner, me and Dad stopping by Wayne's cottage to pick up a few drinks
from his soft drink supply for our rooms. Dad drops a can of
Cherry Coke ("Doggone it!") and Wayne evilly tells him, "Give that one
to Mom." I decline a third Cherry Coke to my Cherry Coke and one
cherry-flavored Mello-Yello load, and Wayne replies, "Two won't do it
for Steven." I take the third one for the only member of my room
who's going to drink them anyway. Back at the room, Steven
informs me that Larry's going to be on TV that night, some special AMC
is running on Sex, Lies, and Videotape... that his friend Lane told him
about.
We gather again and drive in the van and car to
downtown in search of dinner. (Throughout the day, I've mused how
great last night's dinner was... hint hint... mmm... and Rita agrees
she could happily go back there, but we know that's not gonna
happen.) Wayne's choice of that burrito place is shot down when
we see that it's closed on Monday nights in the off season, as is
Larry's choice of that deli place. We are thrilled to end up at
The Pizza Place on Main Street, which is open on a Monday night in the
off season and serving tasty pizza and salads. Natalie and Alex,
having had enough of this indecisive and eating-delay nonsense, go
straight in to order Greek salads, and eventually Larry and Wayne add
some more salads and pizzas to please all (large half-veggie, half-meat
pizza and a large mushroom pizza -- I think). We take over four
small booths in the back room and chat, with an episode of 7th Heaven
on in the background featuring Richard Lewis, which inspires stories of
Larry's A Weekend in the Country (starring, among others, Lewis and
Dudley Moore, who, Larry reported, was so sick at the time, Larry never
got to see him).
Back to the cottage for wicked rounds of Jenga, a
game where individual pieces of red, blue and yellow wood have been
stacked into an unsteady tower of colorful "floors." On each role
of the die, one or two pieces must be removed from any but the very top
floor and added to the top without toppling the tower (the die's
instructions are take the red middle pieces, or blue or yellow end
pieces -- kinda like Twister instructions -- plus instructions of "Take
Two" pieces, a "Wild" choice, and, Debbie's favorite, "Reverse," which
puts the risk back on the previous players in reverse order).
Allison, Debbie, Wayne and I play the first game, and Steven jumps into
the second game. It really is a maddeningly tense game, where you
quietly and nervously watch each player gently pull or push out the
pieces and set them on top of the increasingly high stack -- ending
with an ironic feeling of "Whew!" when they've succeeded and then
realizing it's your turn! And, of course, the nervous quiet makes
the really noisy clatter of the falling pieces all over the table that
much more dramatic and painful. Our matches have the tension
increased courtesy of the uneven table and the shaky floor when you sit
back in your chair or someone walks in the room -- we're like Mission:
Impossible, suddenly holding up our hands and telling people to
"STOP!"
and freezing them when they're hurriedly walking by.
Allison takes the fall for the first two games, and
Steven, studying the die and realizing the only "middle" pieces the die
requests are red, and the blue and yellow pieces are always "end,"
stacks the third game in favor of the die. It's not long,
however, until the upper floors building in the game are leaning a
little too much to one side, and Debbie's praying for "Reverse" on her
every roll. I squirm brilliantly through a wobbly building,
sliding out the middle pieces and placing them on top. Whew!
Wayne waits until it falls LOUDLY and calmly says it's still my turn,
even though I'd handed him the die and answered "yes" when he asked if
I was finished.
Jen finally gets to jump in with her preferred
Yahtzee game, and Steven bails, going back to our room, and Natalie and
Alex join us for Yahtzee. If I've ever played Yahtzee, I don't
remember, so Debbie, Natalie, Alex and Wayne try to explain to me what
I'm doing and what I want to do. We break for Larry's special on
AMC, which isn't the best reception nor sound level for our room of
people, but it's still fun to watch -- Larry's family pointing out
people in the documentary they know and laughing at the older footage,
and Larry marvelling that all the bits of his commentary they chose was
complimentary. (It's nerve-wracking to wonder how people will use
pieces of an interview in the finished product -- they can make you
look brilliant or like an idiot with a few seconds' difference of
footage.)
The Yahtzee game resumes without me, as I need
sleeeeeep. I go back to the room, where Steven had watched the
AMC show in quiet private. He comments that he thought it would
be a little more in-depth and I remind him that AMC is usually
lighter. We end up watching Drew
Carey and 3rd Rock from the
Sun
before falling asleep.
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1997-2004
