Neighborhood Games Night

Every New Year's Eve, for the last five years, our little neighborhood (usually around five families from one side of the block and a couple from the other) hosts a progressive dinner. We, being the most progressive and least dinner-worthy (we're vegetarians), host the pre-appetizer-warm-up games. For this year-end's games: I definitely plan to play Panther-Person-Porcupine, probably as a first game. It gets people together and focused. Safely silly. Physically, but not strenuously engaged, competitive, but, ultimately, not.

Usually there's only time for three games. For the middle game, I'll probably follow up with that famous Victorian Parlor game of Crambo, perhaps even a quietly hilarious game of Fifteen - both relatively quiet, but equally pointless sitting-in-a-circle game, or, should the spirit so lean, a rollicking game of Bunny or beyond. Given the actual time, we can always play two.

For a festive, and somewhat frabjous finale, I thought I'd try a modified Sound and Fury game in which, instead of taking turns saying and doing basically any old thing, we go around the circle, twice, maybe, each and collectively manifesting new "Happy New Year"'s greetings in as many ways as we can think of.

In case you're not around, may you have the chance to play something like these silly games with your own neighbors, in celebration of peace, love, and safety.

"The Way we Played" Pimple Balls, Awning Ball and Tire Ball in old North Philly

I was looking for stories of Halfball. I had learned that the official halfball was made out of half a pimple ball. But when I Googled for Pimple Ball I found mostly dog toys. I guess the human pimple ball has gone the way of halfball. Though, you should know that there's a site dedicated to halfball, and official halfball equipment - which means you can actually spend money to get official versions of what was, to most of the people who played halfball, the apotheosis of unofficialhoodness. Oh the endless ironies of the marketplace...

Howsomever, I did manage to find this delicious reminiscence called "The Way we Played," in which Stanley B. Kurtz describes some of the games he remembers playing when he was a kid in North Philadelphia. Here, I learned about Awning Ball, which launched my search for Pimple Ball and struck me as the paradigm of non-commerializable, quasi-legal kids games of yore and not-so-yore. I quote:

This game required two items - a store awning (preferably already lowered) and a pimpleball. On Seventh Street between Montgomery and Berks was an assortment of small stores. Most had awnings to protect them from the sun. We'd roam up and down the street casing the awnings before picking one with just the right angle. Shuster's Fruit Store was the best, but sooner or later the dirt-covered ball would plunk into the tomatoes or grapes, and Mr. Shuster would rush out and sweep us away with his broom - notwithstanding the presence of his son among the players. Dave had little influence with his father.

But until then, we played awningball. Either two boys played or two teams (two boys each) opposed each other. The goal: Keep the ball on the awning. If it hit the ground or rolled off either end, it was a point for the other player or team. We'd run back and forth hitting the ball with our palms - no fists allowed - forcing shoppers to detour off the sidewalk into the street or under the awning.

There was a certain art to the game -placing the ball where the other guy couldn't reach it, or tapping it lightly, barely landing it on the front edge of the awning. It was an intricate ballet of graceful arms, twisting bodies and fast feet, particularly when Mr. Shuster's broom showed up. Then it would be time to move on to the next awning.

Please don't think that I advocate such behavior. Well, all right, think it.

Also in the same story, Kurtz tells us about Tire Ball, which wasn't a ball at all, but a 4-6-or-so-inch piece of bicycle tire. According to the author, the tireball, though not actually ball-like at all, had some remarkably redeeming attributes: " Thrown end over end and hit by a bat (a broomstick smuggled from home with the broom end left on the closet floor for mom to scratch her head over), it sailed remarkable distances. A bit tougher to catch than the symmetrical pimpleball, it merely presented another challenge to overcome."

More testimony to the transforming power of play, and the transforming need to play, with whatever, wherever, with whomever, whenever possible.

Eat, dance, and be a daydream believer - hints for the Playful Woman

As I was rummaging through the Play Ethic site, I found this taste of womanly wisdom from Rebecca Abrams, author of The Playful Self:

How to play
Rebecca Abrams has argued that women in particular miss out on play time. She urges women to chat, eat, dance, and daydream more.

Chatting and singing
Women, she says, are conditioned not to hog conversations or make too much noise. But noise is exhilarating. Singing in the shower, loudly whistling in the street, and growling when picking up other people's clothes, are all forms of playful self-expression.

Eating
Our relationship with food is often tied up with self-esteem. Anorexia and bulimia are widespread. But food is social and sensual and, when there is no sense of guilt attached to it, is a great form of play.

Dance
Dance tends to get written out of our lives as we get older, Abrams observes, but it "combines the joy of making noise with the profound pleasure of uninhibited self-expression". The only requirement is that a person "gives herself permission to have a go".

Sex
Women are made self-conscious about sex by media preoccupation with it, fuelled with images of perfect women and perfect sex. There is still not parity between men's freedom to "play around" and women's, Abrams concludes. Having a playful sex life, especially in long-term relationships, starts with not taking sex so seriously.

Daydreaming
We stop doing this as children, but it is central to play. Dressing up and using make-up is fantasising. Anything from sewing to playing the piano indulges our imaginations.

This image of the playful woman is of profound importance to how women see themselves, and how men see women. We are far from envisioning women as playful beings. Googling for Playful Women leads not to concepts of enlightenment and empowerment, but to pornography and fashion. Ms. Abrams has a message that is difficult to hear over the din of repression and innuendo - a message that I believe to be fundamental to our revisioning of self- and social-actualization.

Pat Kane explains "The Play Ethic"

My personally sacred son Elyon noted that someone at his university had printed out something from a website called "The Play Ethic" - the virtual home of Scottish social activist Pat Kane. Listening to his mighty brogue, his poetic and powerful appreciation for the potential of play, is positively inspiring.

He may be taking a different road, but he is a true fellow traveler. I lifted the following from his article Why Believe in Life When it Doesn't Believe in You:

...Those who clear space in their lives for activities that are pleasurable, voluntary and imaginative - that is, for play - have better memory, sharper reasoning, and more optimism about their future. As the dean of play studies, the University of Pennsylvania's Brian Sutton-Smith says, "the opposite of play isn't work. It's depression. To play is to act out and be wilful, exultant and committed, as if one is assured of one's prospects".

So to call yourself a "player", rather than a "worker", is to immediately widen your conception of who you are, and what you might be capable of doing. It is to dedicate yourself to realizing your full human potential; to take an essentially active, rather than passive stance towards your environment; and to be constantly guided in this by your sense of fulfillment, meaning and satisfaction.

The play ethic is what happens when the values of play become the foundation of a whole way of life. It turns us into more militant producers, and more discriminating consumers. It causes us to re-prioritise the affairs of our hearts, to upgrade the quality of our emotional and social relationships. It makes us more activist in our politics, but less traditional in their expression. And most of all, the play ethic forces us to think deeply about how we should pursue our pleasures - and how we reconcile that with our social duties.

Pat clearly shares the vision that lies at the heart of DeepFUN, and gives voice to the kind of personal and social change that is inevitable for those who take the heart to heart.

As for his mention of Brian Sutton-Smith - Brian is one of the few people I know who appreciates play in its fullest, un-adult-erated, uncensored breadth. He was a frequent visitor to the Games Preserve and a long time friend. Further evidence that, as Pat says, we are playing in the same sandbox.

Cubeball. Boxball and the transforming power of play

According to second draft of the official rules of Cubeball, as delineated by the World Cubeball Association, all you need to play are:

one (1) superball, of a size agreed upon by both players;
one (1) item, preferably symmetrical, to be used as a target for the previously-mentioned superball;
one (1) barrier, approximately four (4) to six (6) feet in height, stretching the entire width of the playing area, and with sufficient width to support the target on the barrier's top edge (the separating wall between adjacent cubicles is often used as this barrier); and
two (2) wheeled chairs, as are normally found in modern offices.

There's more. Much more. These are, after all, the official rules.

Cubeball, as the authors unabashedly reveal: "occured because the product we were both working on at the time took an obscenely long time to build, and there was nothing to do but wait in the meantime. This waiting led to boredom, and boredom led to Cubeball." This is a rather powerful revelation, about the nature of play, the reason for games, and the power of a toy to transform the environment.

Witness Boxball, a game of tennis, sans tennis court, tennis raquet, and tennis ball. Born, no doubt, of boredom, and bouyed by the availability of a cheap, high-bouncing ball known as the "spaldeen." As the official Spaldeen site explains: "Made from the rejected inner core of a tennis ball in 1949, the original Spalding High-Bounce ball sparked the imaginations of dozens of playful inner city kids. For urban kids, the ball gave them a way to play outdoors without a grassy field. These kids would hit the streets for inventive games like hit-the-penny, box ball, and most famously, stickball." Dozens? According to my scant research, we're talking about a whole generation of kids.

There is a great deal to learn from these games and the spirit that led to their invention. There is great heart to be taken from the discovery that this spirit has in no way diminished.

More Frolicsomely Frustrating Family-Friendly Frivolity

In searching for a seasonally-appropriate gift of glee to share with the chosen many, I found this in the DeepFUN archives:

Dear Major Fun: "Opening presents is definitely fun. But, afterwards, there's always a let down for something else fun to do." -- Mary Maker

Dear Merrymaker: There's an old parlor game that should keep spirits high even after the main merriments are made. First you need a big candy bar or bag of goodies. Then you need a small array of cold-weather clothes (hat, gloves, coat, scarf) (the gloves are essential, you can add or delete other items of outer clothing depending on the collective delay-gratification factor of the players). Then you need plenty of wrapping paper and tape. Finally, a pair or more of dice.

Wrap the goody bag in as much paper and tape as you can find (and have the patience for). Put the clothes and the prize in a pile in the center of the living room, and arrange all the family and relatives in a circle around the pile. Give the dice to someone. When the game starts, the player rolls the dice. If the player doesn't roll doubles (two or more dice of the same number), the dice pass to the next player. If the player does roll doubles, the dice are still passed on to the next player, while the doubles-roller dives into the clothes pile, puts everything on (especially the gloves) and starts tearing open the package. Meanwhile, the dice are passed around the circle from person to person until someone else rolls doubles. At that time, the player who is raptly unwrapping the prize must stop, take off the extra clothes, take a place in the circle, and allow the new doubles-roller to continue the challenge while the rest of the players take turns rolling the dice. The round continues until someone manages to unwrap the present.

This game is fun, and frustration is definitely part of the fun. If the frustration is too daunting, add another die or two (so it takes longer for anyone to roll doubles) or decrease the number of clothes items in the clothes pile, or have two people (with two sets of clothes) work as unwrapping partners.

This game has been around a long time. Apparently, the way I learned the game (which is of course the best of all possible ways of playing it) is only one of many variations of a game called "Pass the Parcel." It's most often described as being played with "music like musical chairs." If you check out the Party Games Idea Resource Page, you'll find a listing for Pass the Parcel followed by two other variations, the last, the closest to the way I learned the game, whilst leading inexorably to a whole nother branch of family-friendly frivolity, e.g. Flour Mound.

The Varieties of the Balloon Hat Experience

You wouldn't think that making balloon hats could evolve into a spiritual path. Unless you happened to stumble across a website called "The Varieties of the Balloon Hat Experience." As the authors explain:

In 1996, Addi Somekh and Charlie Eckert began traveling to different places in the world to make balloon hats for people and take photos of them. The goal was to show people all over the world laughing and having fun, and to emphasize the fact that all human beings are born with the ability to experience joy. In total, they visited 34 countries and have over 10,000 pictures.

I am amazed at what a rich, luscious, thoughtful, inspiring, and profoundly gift this Balloon Hat Experience proves to be: the amazing gallery of Balloon Hatting around the world, the gallery of Threes - depicting stories of love and balloon-hatted glory in series of three images.

I found this on their What is Laughing page.

"In the Navajo tradition we have what we call Chi Dlo Dil, or a Laughing Party, for a newborn. The Laughing Party is the first laugh you hear from a child. It's usually around six weeks. It's the baby's first expression to the world, saying 'I'm ready to interact.'

...At the party everybody sits around the baby and has a big meal and plays with the baby. The person who makes the baby laugh first plays an important role in the child's life."

Nancy Evans, Shiprock, NM (Navajo Nation)

And this piece of poetic anthropology about the meaning of hats from Mary Holmes is Professor Emerita of Art at the University of California at Santa Cruz.

The head has always been a battlefield. We think of ourselves as livingin our head. Our most important acts aren't performed by our hands or our legs. We think and speak with our head. So the head becomes sacred. It has meaning. Which is why there came to be so much meaning attached to hair and headdresses, to what they look like. And it has enough meaning that it¹s worth fighting about ...I have great faith that hats will come back, because they have been important to humans for millennia. And the balloon hats give people, at least momentarily, a return of that experience of dressing the head. I think that's why it evokes that bubbly, giggly, happy response. People feel that at last they have the recognition they deserve.

I give you a Major FUN Award, o Balloon Hatters of the heart.

BackRound

BackRound (no, I didn't misspell it. It's not Background. It's BackRound) is another Major FUN Award-winning wordgame from the Coodju people.

Let's start with an example. If someone said "led-nack" to you, offering you the hint "don't burn out on this word," what would you answer. Why, obviously, "candle." Let's continue with another example. How about "top-eat," which, says the hint, "Blows its lid"? But of course, "teapot." Think you've got it? How about "ode-dees-cut?" Want a hint? "Formally speaking, you should have this."

A BackRound, the designers explain, is "a word pronounced backwards." Notice the emphasis. It's pretty much central to what makes this game so fascinatingly fun. Yeah, it's about backwards words. But not about the spelling. And all about the pronounciation.

There are 80 cards, each with 4 different puzzles (which makes for, count'em, 320 total). You need at least two people, so one can be the Reader. You can play with more. Many, many more. You can divide them into teams. You can play every-one-for-him/her-self. Scoring is easy. You solve it, you get the card. You have the most cards at the end of the game, you win.

Then there's the not-actually-obligatory timer, which you can use to add more tension, when more tension is needed. Which, in our case, given our collective obstinance, wasn't.

And there's even a cloth carry-this-game-everywhere bag, which, once you play it, you're more than likely to do.

Should you need further snish-kurt-sni, you'll find them clearly posted on their ties-behw.

Respond

Remember "Geography" - the game you probably played in the car or waiting at the restaurant with your family? You know the one. Someone says the name of a geographical location. Texas. Then the next player has to name another geographical location, starting with the last letter of the previous. Saskatchewan. Then the next: Nebraska. Et, basically, cetera. Remember how surprisingly long that game could last? And how genuinely challenging it could get? And how much fun it could be? Well, that should answer any questions you have about why Respond is so much fun. Because, basically, Respond begins where Geography leaves off.

First, there's the deck of category cards. We're not just talking Geography anymore. We're talking Vegetables, and Boys Names, and Bugs; Colors and Flowers, and Musical Instruments. Which might remind you of that game Categories. Remember? "Gonna Get (clap, clap) names of (clap clap) Candy..." Except you play with the Geography rule. And the categories change every turn. So now you have to be prepared to switch from context to context while figuring out what word starts with the last letter of the word before. Baseball. Larry. Umm. What bug starts with a "Y"? Oh. Yellowjacket.

Speaking of yellow, there are also these yellow-bordered "Lightning" category cards. When you play one, anybody, regardless of whose turn it is, can go next, if they answer correctly. Which adds a remarkably deep strategic pinch, because if you're not fast enough, you get skipped over. And if you are very fast, you can play a second card from your own hand before the timer runs out.

Speaking of which, there's a 20-second electronic timer that quietly blinks at you until you there are only five seconds left. And sedately beeps at you until you run out of time. And then blares a most conclusive siren in your personal face. Hitting it resets it. Not answering before the timer goes off means you have to draw an additional card. Which is not good, seeing as the goal of the game is to be the first player to run out of cards.

Respond is deliciously challenging. It can be played by kids old enough to read. It can be played by almost any number of people. Being based on games that almost everyone knows makes it that much easier to learn.

Everything works elegantly. The cards keep the game exciting. There's no need to keep score. It's easy to learn. Quick to play. If you lose the rules, you can find them online. Even batteries are included.

Coodju

Who'd think that a spelling game could be interesting enough, fun enough, exciting enough, to make into a party? Well, Matt and Derry, two, young, entrepreneuring game designers, certainly did. Enough to build a whole game company around. And, after playing it for five minutes, I was as convinced as they were.

Coodju is the kind of game the Major FUN Award was invented for. It's innovative, unique, easy to learn, fast, challenging, funny fun - and it's all done with spelling! You (at least 4 of you over-twelve-years-old types) play more or less in teams. Your partner has a card with five words on it. She reads them to you one-at-a-time. All you have to do to win the card is spell the words correctly. Of course, depending on the roll of the die, you might have to spell the words backwards, or inside out, or spell every other letter, or only the vowels or consonants. And depending on the roll of the other die, you might have twice as much time, or get twice or three times as many points, or take away points from the other guys.

You can almost feel those braincells burning as you try to spell a word "outside-in." P-Y-A-T-R is obviously PARTY. But what, one might ask, is H-S-A-S-P-E-P-N-I?

We liked everything about this game. We liked the challenge. We liked the scoring. We liked the dice. We liked the portable, two-compartment card tray that made it so easy for the Reader to keep track of which cards have been used. We liked the box that had the rules printed right on it. We didn't especially like the scoring pad or sand timer. We appreciated having them. And what, after all, is especially to like about scoring pads and sand timers?

And we especially liked knowing that there was a Coodju Lite - a different package with words that seven-year-olds could spell, a spinner instead of dice, and no scorepad. Coodju Lite is an elegant adaptation of Coodju, reduced in complexity to appeal to the age-impaired, but not reduced in play value. In fact, we found that because the cards in Coodju lite were a different color, we could combine games so the whole family could play together. The designers even included a cloth bag, knowing that kids would cherish the game enough to want to take it everywhere.

As to the "we" - last Sunday's Game Tasting group included myself, my wife, Rocky; the amazing Ivory (a beloved, game-addicted regular), and the co-inventorsm them-very-selves. It just so happened that they lived a couple beaches north of us, and, despite my misgivings about undue influence, they turned out to be wonderful, fun people, who appreciated games as much as we did, and we delighted in their delight as much as ours. It was a rare opportunity, and fortunate in deed that they had such genuinely BERNIE-worthy games to share with us.

That inside-out word, for those of you who are still seeking: HAPPINESS.