This post . . . is for me.

A lot of the things I write here I kind of do with the thought of a person reading it in mind. I write about things I feel pretty confident would go over well in a conversation over coffee----with the added benefit of being able to construct the telling with a little more thought. Funny stories about being with the kids, little anecdotes---you know.

But this post is some thing that I treasure inside my head that I’m fairly sure would quickly produced glazed eyes and sudden convenient distractions if I ever brought it up live with anyone. I can talk about my kids and find people to listen. I’ve found couples that look at my wife and I and ask us about how we first met with genuine interest. But this is about another love affair that I’ve seldom, if ever, spoken about with anyone in any kind of detail.

It is an affair I’ve had for many years with a woman. Actually two women. And two men. And a horse. And 16 little guys, some clergy and couple towers.

Of course, I’m talking about Chess.

If you’re still reading, you have my deep appreciation.

The love affair began one summer, as love affairs often do. The day was buzzing with the excitement of the first day of a vacation trip with the family. I remember the sun shining brightly through the tree limbs in the front yard, and grass I was waiting on being very green, and all the standard summer noises that would grace the soundtrack of any movie about a small town in the 70s making their way through the neighborhood.

But this vacation was going to be a little different. We were waiting for cousins from West Virginia. Cousins who would be meeting up with us to come along on the trip. Cousins I had never met before. And we were going back to West Virginia to meet a whole lot of other family on my father’s side that I’d never met before. Exciting and intimidating all at the same time. But since I was only 9 or so, the feeling of adventure ahead trumped everything else and I was anxious to begin.

When the relatives finally did arrive and piled out of their car at our front curb, it was instantly recognizable that they were made up pretty much like us---two parents and two boys, one about my brother’s age and one about my own.

Parents greeted Parents warmly and they walked up to the house. They had known each other well years before and had not seen each other in a long time. I’m sure they wanted to relax a little after a long drive and get caught up a little. My brother and the younger boy trounced off like two puppies, leaving me and the older boy standing there trying to make conversation.

I don’t know what we tried to talk about initially, but at one point, in an attempt to fill the awkward silence, he asked, “Do you play chess?”

Honestly, when he asked, I had no idea of ever having even heard the word before.

“What’s chess?” I asked.

He clamored back into the car and pulled out a squat rectangular box about the size of a Chinese take out container. It was a flat red with black and white print, a silhouette of a horse’s head on the sides. Not a fancy or glossy box, it might have contained an oil filter for all of it’s lack of presentation.

He told me it was a game. Thinking back, the box did look fairly new and I can imagine he probably had gotten it as something to keep him busy on the long road trip. But, when he opened it and took out one of the pieces, and my concept of games was changed forever.

The playing pieces were red and white hollow plastic, but they weren’t mundane disks or places holders, or even like Monopoly top hats and cars. They weren’t even the standard abstract Staunton chess pieces that are so common. They were little faces. Busts from what I imagined a medieval court. They were puffy faces and not particularly attractive, but compared to what I had always though of as ‘game pieces’, they were magnificent.

The King and Queen and even the Bishop seemed disapproving and oppressive like the queen in Alice’s Wonderland. Wonderfully foreboding. The horses for Knights were detailed and regal. Even the Rooks showed actual stonework. And all the little Pawns were heads of armored soldiers ready for battle, the helmet more of a French styling showing their faces, rather than the classic Arthurian warrior.

When he brought out the board to play, I was familiar with that. It was the board I’d played checkers on tons of times before. But after setting up the pieces in a very exacting way, and learning that now the red squares were fair game, I was to learn that the detail and intricacy of the pieces didn’t stop at their appearance. Each one had a very specific and distinct way of moving and capturing, with certain special rules that applied only in certain situations.

I was hooked.

Miserably bad, I don’t think I won a single game. But that didn’t seem to matter. I was fascinated with the game for the rest of the trip. So much so that my parents got me a set just like his when we got to WV. I don’t know what ever became of it, and I haven’t seen one like it since. I sure would love to find one like it again.

Chess in my life has experienced periods of dormancy, and then will come back into focus each time with a stronger pull than before. On my break this past Sept. I had a chance to revisit chess and get stirred up again. I’m in the middle of a period of quasi-obsession with it right now, hence this article. I may relate the high points of chess in my memory over a couple more future posts.

This morning the Lemur stayed home because he wasn’t feeling well.

On Thursdays I go into work late. In my dept each person has one evening shift each week, and Thursdays are mine. So I was home with him hanging out this morning. When his mother was out running errands and the DVD he was watching ended, he wandered in to the kitchen where I was playing computer chess on the laptop over a bowl of oatmeal. He sat down beside me and watched me, and we started discussing the options of each move and what might happen as a result---then watching what the computer did to see if we had thought every possibility through or not.

And he was really getting into it.

We did that for about an hour and then he went in and brought out his chess set. I have given each of our kids a tournament grade plastic chess set with roll up board and bag for the pieces at about 8 years old. He brought his out, rolled out the board and set up the pieces wanting to play.

I’m always so flattered when he does this. He knows that I have more experience and play better than he does, so I don’t think he does it to try and see if he can beat me. It’s more that he enjoys grappling with me here on the board as much as he does wrestling with me on the living room carpet.

And I love watching him play.

Watching his concentration and the wheels turning. It’s always been some of the best moments when I see my kids making mental connections and discoveries. Like the first time I hear them reading their simple first books, it has never failed to bring tears to my eyes. To me it’s such an amazing transformation to see them go from little child to budding literate. To me it’s as fascinating as seeing a butterfly emerge from a cocoon.

Seeing him blossom and test his problem solving capabilities right there in front of me is just another way chess is adding quality to my life.