My watch read 8 p.m. Drats. Even among the blue-haired set, that’s a little too early to turn in for the night. Nevertheless, I was about to succumb to the allure of lapsing into a post-feast coma when my sister Betsy announced, “Let’s play a game.”
Here I point out two things. First, Betsy doesn’t really make announcements. She makes pronouncements, which are like edicts, which are akin to martial law. It’s futile to challenge her. Second, though I wanted to protest, I was too ashamed to admit that I just wanted to go to bed.
Peering into Betsy’s family room closet, I felt like Marty McFly. Stacked up neatly one atop the other, I stared at the board games of my youth: “Clue,” “Life,” “Risk,” “Stratego,” and “Battleship.” “Pictionary” and “Scattergories” sat on the top shelf, and a beautiful deluxe edition of “Scrabble”…