Wow, thanks Rue, for answering an age old question that has been bothering me for years, to wit: “Is there anything more boring than tying knots?” I now know that yes, there is something more boring–reading about someone tying knots!
However, your rendition was significantly less boring than some people’s. The amazing Rue can even write excitingly about a dull subject (okay, that’s stretching it, but I just insulted our high pooh-bah and I don’t want to get blacklisted).
My next to oldest sister has always been a bit of a prude, at least when it comes to profane language. When my next to my age sister and I were both in high school, she (the prude sister, not my sister who was still in high school. They all married young, but not that young) got very angry at her husband because he was playing George Carlin’s album The 7 Words You Can’t Say on TV or Radion for us, even though it wasn’t even the title track. (Why am I telling you this? Just read on, all will be revealed).
So, when I was about 10 or 11, my BIL (who maybe wasn’t my brother-in-law yet, but would be and still is) taught us all a new card game (ah-ha, the connection). My sister told us the name of the game was “The Good Neighbor Game” and that’s what we called it for several years.
Cut to the summer before my senior year in high school. Having finally made some friends, I’m spending a weekend with said friends at a cabin on the river. In the evening, while listening, (over and over and over again in the timeless manner of teenage girls everywhere), to the newly released Eagles’ album Hotel California, we play cards. Getting tired of whatever we had been playing, I suggest the Good Neighbor game. After describing the game, I’m met with gales of laughter (okay, maybe just a snicker or two). It seems that the game I’ve been calling “The Good Neighbor” game is more commonly know as “Crap on Your Neighbor”, a name admittedly more in keeping with the central theme of the game, which is, of course, to screw the other guy so you can win, but I had always thought the name (Good Neighbor) was tongue in cheek.
The lesson to be learned? That’s easy. After an experience like this, one cannot fail to understand that Hotel California might just be one of the most perfect albums ever recorded (if it wasn’t for that sucky New Kid in Town, it would be the most perfect, but even genius sometimes falters).