I’m not good at playing complex games.  And in my lifetime I’ve found myself in the middle of a game that had different rules than I understood at the beginning, that the strategy had to be planned, shared, ordered.

 The first time, I was 12, at the beach with friends.  I had a violet bathing suit that made me look – for the first time in my life – like I had some hope of becoming a woman – and I was feeling very powerful. 

Next to our blanket I spotted four  boys from school – 10th graders I think – playing Gin, and as a big winner at home, I wanted in.  And I was pleased that they agreed to let me join the ongoing game. 

But when I’d lost the first round I was told (they said reminded) that it was penny ante and I had to pay up 11 cents.  

I will never forget the stress – I’ve never had a stronger will to overcome in my entire life.  I realized the boys had accepted me into the game as a victim and not as a player and I was determined to preserve my honor.  I focussed not only on the cards, but also on the signals they were sending each other, and I won my pennies back.  Maybe 15 cents all together.  With some measly excuse I went back to my blanket.

The boys never said hello to me again in the halls.

I rell this story because I recognized the sense of hubris I had when I won that first game, and I sense that over our heads there might be another game being played.  Why is Iran bombing the British bases in Cyprus.  Doesn’t it realize that Cyprus is in NATO, that Saudi Arabia has just been sold a wealth of weapons, that Dubai and Qatar are very bad enemies to have?  Ah, but Iran has China…