Cheating
It is better to suffer wrong than to do it, and happier to be sometimes cheated than not to trust.
--Samuel Johnson
I’m a coon-ass*. At least in part, on my father’s side. I come from a long line of drinking, smoking, Louisianans. Is that what you call them? Louisianians? Coon-asses. They’ll make their own wine, drink to excess, tell a dirty joke, pinch your ass and enjoy it too much, then look you straight in the eye and say someone else did it. Bunch of dirty liars. They’re fine people and I love every one of them.
They cheat at cards. At games. Dominoes, Hearts, Spades. I have always hesitated to tell those I love that my family cheats, that my father in particular, one of the most genuine, authentic men I know, must be monitored very closely when playing card games.
When I tell someone I love that my family cheats (and I have always tried to do so early on) it is usually received with raised eyebrows or a dropped jaw and further questioning:
"Really? What do you mean cheating?
Like, they actually hide the cards or something?
But if you were like, really playing, they wouldn’t REALLY cheat… Would they?"
Yes, they really would. I mean, basically, cheating. Yes, actually hiding the cards. My father does. We all do. And we’re really good at it. Up our sleeves, under our chairs, in our shirts or down our pants, wherever. If you can make eye contact just right and involve another in your practice of passing cards, hiding them, supplementing the deck, that is even better. There is always a thrill in timing it right and spontaneously choosing a partner, ganging up on another suspicious player, probably one with whom you conspired at the last card game.
Really.
Cheating.
But I would argue that it is not at all cheating in the common, lesser sense of the word. (Of course I would argue that. I must defend myself. I must preserve my own self-image as respectable, worthy, proper if only by my own humble, if not completely skewed definition.) I would say among the Cryars, it's not really cheating because it's an expectation really, nay an obligation. In fact, the actual game we pretend to play is merely a pretext for the true contest, which is all about creativity, gumption, spunk, outwitting the other players within the confines of the ridiculous rules for whatever the comical competition you are supposing to play. The ruse is one of knowing the rules and professing to play by them, but that is only the outward game. And given that scenario, given that we are all expecting to “cheat” and to “be cheated,” it is not deceitful at all, then is it? There is nothing corrupt about it.
But there’s so much more to it than that, cheating. It has such a negative connotation. It's a bad word in our society, and rightly so. The word pervades our culture. Someone skips in line at the grocery store and I hear a child say, "Hey! No cheating!" I recognize personal, self-deprecating disappointment about cheating from every woman who's ever been on a diet. Then there’s the deeper, much more affecting extramarital cheating. Cheating on tests in school. Cheating the government on their taxes. Cheating the system.
You get cable without paying for it. You squirm out of traffic tickets instead of owning up to it. You take office supplies home from the workplace. You thoughtlessly burn and trade CDs and obliviously enjoy that musician’s artwork, his creation, without paying him for it, so you can save a measly fifteen dollars. You notice a drink missing when the bill comes, but you don’t tell the waitress. Cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater.
Sure, I’ve done these types of things. I willingly, shamefully confess. In college, I once found a ten dollar bill in a parking lot (at a time when I really believed I needed ten dollars), swooped down without pause to pick it up, and hurried to my car refusing to make eye contact with anyone for fear my selfish disgrace would be revealed. It was not. It is all too often that easy.
Does indulging in these opportunities from time to time make one a cheater? Really a cheater, at heart? If you take that extra drink or don’t look around when you find a few bucks, is that really testament to some deeper, internal immorality? I hope not. I’d like very much to be truer than that. To myself as well as to those around me. And it is precisely that truth, that sincerity that will keep me from playing cards any differently. At least with the Cryars.
If you are ever fortunate enough to join us on a Saturday night, drinks on the table and cards in hand, I’d pay close attention if I were you. You never know what I might have up my sleeve.
_________________
* [Updated 11/15/06] Thanks to a commenter, I realize now that my use of the term coon-ass could be offensive. That did not even occur to me given that my family has randied that term about my whole life. Comparing it to the n-word is something that shocks me. I had no idea. Still, I am not going to edit it out of this post. Maybe because I'm an asshole. Or maybe because I'm some cross between politically incorrect and just plain stupid. But I will say out loud that my intention is not to offend. I've only ever heard the term used in an affectionate way toward family members. Here is a definition and some additional information from wikipedia:
"Coonass, or Coon-ass, is an epithet used in reference to a person of Cajun ethnicity.
Although some Cajuns use the word in regard to themselves, other Cajuns view the term as an ethnic slur against the Cajun people, especially when used by non-Cajuns.
Socioeconomic factors appear to influence how Cajuns are likely to view the term: working-class Cajuns tend to regard the word "coonass" as a badge of ethnic pride; whereas middle- and upper-class Cajuns are more likely to regard the term as insulting or degrading, even when used by fellow Cajuns in reference to themselves.
Despite an effort by Cajun activists to stamp out the term, it can be found on T-shirts, hats, and bumperstickers throughout Acadiana, the 22-parish Cajun homeland in south Louisiana."
Comments
One often hears "the end doesn't justify the means" a though it were some sort of absolute principle. In that form, it most assuredly is not; it's just a rthetorical shortcut people use instead of engaging in a difficult evaluation.
A particular end may or may not justify a specific set of means; both sides of the moral balance need to be carefully weighed and evaluated. I cannot immediately think of any end that justifies *any* means (which does not mean such an end does not exist); I can think of--have only too unfortunately witnessed--any number of unsavory means that it would take a remarkable end to justify.
When we apply this pattern of thought to your family's gamesmanship, it is possible to interpret cheating at cards as a known part of the game, done not from malice (at least inside the family) but as a part of the game. The end of the game is entertainment; "cheating" is part of the means to provide it.
The problem arises when others play for whom it is merely cheating, outside the known rules, and not at all entertaining. The end, you see, has shifted from demonstrating cleverness and deviousness within the family for the enjoyment of all to the defrauding of an outsider. Same means... producing a different end.
I think reality is that most people's honesty is contingent on some weighing of the balance of things. A recent study shows a majority of people will not bother to pick up a penny from the ground; turning it in in hopes of finding the proper owner is faintly absurd.
But it is found money; the moral absolute would involve turning it in.
In the real world, people have a threshhold. Most people will pick up a quarter; I'd expect just about everyone to pick up a bill on any denomination.
When does it become necessary to turn the money in?
In practical terms, very few folks are going to turn in loose change or a stray dollar bill--too hard to identify and most folks wouldn't consider it a significant loss; they coubt anyone will even *look* for it.
But as the amount escalates, the likelyhood that someone will miss the money, may need the money, and will consequently be looking for the money increase significantly.
I am NOT a moral relativist; the principles of right and wrong don't change. That is not a reason to become rigid and foolish, though; it is a reason to learn to think clearly about such things so the difficult and borderline cases can be understood and addressed to the best of our ability.
I don't think anybody is capable of moral perfection or spotless character, least of all me. But I do think clarity of mind about our various threshholds matters.
So I'd say play the Cryar way with Cryars and friends willing to join in. And play according to Hoyle when the room is full of stuffy folks who think following the rules is half the fun.
The difference is that we recognize, and agree upon, the context for breaking the rules. And we understand that it can't be like that all the time. Sometimes, you gotta play things by the book.
Having said that, I'd love to play cards with your family. I too come from a long line of cheaters - we prefer partner games wherein winks and blinks and shifts of posture dictact the hand!