My Uncle Larry

When I was a child, we flew from our home in Colorado to San Diego every summer. I loved visiting my aunt and uncle- I remember lazy afternoons sitting on the cold tile of their kitchen, petting their golden retriever, listening to smooth jazz as their radio echoed through the house in the mid 1990s. The calm in the house would shift suddenly as soon as Larry came home. His boundless energy was immediately felt by everyone, and I loved the chaotic charm of him.

He was always up for a game.

My dearest memory of my uncle is when I was a shy seven year old. A rare visit from the Hochstadts to our home in Colorado, for Christmas I think- and I remember sitting in our basement with him as he taught me how to play a late nineties CD-Rom Casino simulator on our computer. The massive beige monitor flickered the greens and whites and blacks and reds of animated casino games behind him. He patiently explained the rules and tactics of blackjack and roulette, and I sat entranced, dazzled by the childlike joy he had for games. I sat on his knee and we clicked the roulette wheel over and over, listening to the rhythm of the game, the ball whirring around and around, and the satisfying plunk of the ball into its numbered slot. I chose red because I liked red, put everything on it, and I felt the calculations and tactics of his gambler's spirit revolve quickly through him, like the spinning wheel on the screen. He patiently sighed, perhaps thought better of correcting my naivety, and said words of encouragement instead. I remember excitedly regaling my parents with the rules of roulette afterwards, and one can imagine the calculations in their own head as their seven year old suddenly had a deep passion for casino gambling.

I didn't end up being a gambler, but I still cherish any opportunity to play, just like my uncle.

I'll always have the important qualities he helped teach me- take the time to play with children, and whenever possible, indulge in the earnest joy of a game.