I grew up in a warm and loving family of die-hard gamblers, where my father's poker games and my mother's mah jongg blended with big pots of delicious food and endless gossip.
As kids we bet on everything--from who could hold their breath longest underwater or eat the most matzo to which of our Weight Watching mothers would lose the most each week. I went with my father and uncles to the track most Tuesdays, carrying the Daily Racing Form in my book-bag, and when I was twelve and predicted the outcome of a big race, they anointed me "The Grecian," in honor of oddsmaker Jimmy the Greek.
But by the time I turned eighteen, I convinced myself that the gambling gene had passed me by. I went off to college, looking for a life that didn't include perusing the sports section and making bets on anything that caught my fancy.
For many years I didn't gamble at all. And then I learned poker as research for a screenplay I wanted to write. Turns out I was good at poker-- very, very good. I began playing all the time, and this story might have had a different ending if I hadn't found online poker. Turns out I was bad at internet poker-- very, very bad.
My uncles used to say that being on a losing streak was like being on a sinking ship, and all you could see were other people's hats and eyeglasses as the water rose around them. I learned first hand what that meant.
My aunt Tillie always told me that our family was more interesting than the people I interviewed. I used to roll my eyes at her, but, damn, it turns out aunt Tillie was right. The paperback of Hats & Eyeglasses: A Memoir (Tarcher/Penguin) is on sale now.