Mah Jongg Makes a Marriage

I grew up in the Bronx where once a month my mother held a mah jongg game in our apartment living room. From the age of four, I was allowed to set up the walls of tiles around the four racks before the three other ladies arrived. Before I could read, I could decipher the complicated patterns on the mah jongg card.

I learned my numbers by listening to the players call and discard the suits—Craks, Bams, Dots—embossed on my mother’s ivory tiles, polished to a sheen by years of fingering.  I knew the names of the Dragons by their colors—Red, Green, and White—and could read the names of the Winds—North, East, West, and South. Before the women came, I would turn over the 152 tiles and arrange them in categories, then spill them onto the green-felt tablecloth where they would clatter and scatter like kaleidoscope fragments.  

My mother, who never learned to drive, was so dedicated to her weekly mah jongg group that when we moved to Queens, my father would make the trip back to the Bronx until she found a local game she could join. Thereafter, for years to come, Millie, Gladius, Fanny, and my mother would alternate mah jongg get-togethers in each other’s homes. Even though I knew the basics of the game, I was never asked to play unless there was a sudden emergency and one of the women couldn’t play.

My mother’s game was more than a social event. It was an occasion for the women to bond, to talk about their problems with their husbands, children, and relatives, and to celebrate occasions like bar mitzvahs, weddings, and births. If you needed advice, everyone had an opinion.    

The game held no interest for me until it played an important part in my introduction to my future husband, Stephen.

I was going out with a boy I knew from college, who was also named Steve, who invited me to double-date with his college roommate and his girlfriend, Judy. I didn’t know Judy although we went to the same college. She was very friendly, and I immediately liked her. While in the ladies, Judy and I chatted—Jewish geography. Who did she know who I knew, etc. She mentioned that she lived in Laurelton, Queens. 

“I have a friend who lives in Laurelton,” I said. “Do you know Enid Zucker?”

“I know Enid,” she replied, “although I haven’t spoken to her in years.”

“We went to camp together,” I said. “She was in my bunk.”

“Small world,” we agreed.

The next day Judy would get a call from her cousin Steve. “Who do you have for me to go out with?” he asked.

He was out of the dating circuit and had left college since his father, Judy’s uncle, had a heart attack. To help the family, Steve accepted a job working for his professor and was going to night school to finish his undergraduate degree. Judy was very close to her cousin, and she wanted to supply some names but the only person she thought he might like was the girl she had met on the double date.

 “I met this girl I think would be perfect for you, but she’s already dating someone. I don’t think she’d be interested in meeting anyone.”

“What kind of cousin are you? Get her phone number.”

Judy was reluctant to call our mutual acquaintance, but she was sufficiently intimidated by her cousin to call Enid and ask for my phone number. 

When Judy called me, she apologized profusely, explaining that she was helping her cousin out. “I know you are dating Steve, but would it be all right if my cousin called you?” 

I was so taken aback by all the trouble Judy had gone to get my phone number, I hesitated and said I would think about it and call her back.  

The phone call from Judy happened to be the same night my mother was hosting her mah jongg group. When I walked into the living room, I must have had a stunned look on my face because my mother asked, “Who was that on the phone?” 

“It’s really funny,” I answered. “This girl I met on a double date, she went to the trouble of getting my phone number from a mutual friend. She asked if her cousin could call to ask me out?”

The other women looked up from their racks. “Well, that’s nice,” Fanny, one of the players said. “Is he going to call you?” 

“I’m not sure I should go out with him,” I replied. “I am kind of seeing someone. I don’t think I should go on this blind date.”

“Well, that shouldn’t matter unless you have an agreement with this other boy,” Millie interjected. She was a more recent addition to my mother’s game and rather blunt, I thought.

“Fancy free, ah, to be young,” I heard Fanny sigh. 

“And she did go to all that trouble, after all,” my mother added. 

“What do you have to lose?” Millie sorted her tiles on her rack and frowned.

“Maybe he won’t call,” I said hopefully.

But Judy’s cousin did call soon after I told Judy she could give him my number. He wasted no time setting up a date, which alarmed me. He seemed rather sure of himself.

I reported back to the women, who were taking their decaf coffee and cake break in the dining room, that I’d agreed to go out with Steve Temlock that coming Saturday.

Gladius, the third player, set her mug back on the table and looked at me. “Temlock? Did you say his last name was Temlock? I know his mother from Sisterhood. My Robert and her Stephen were bar mitzvahed together.”

“What a coincidence,” my mother exclaimed. “That’s nice.”

The women nodded, approvingly, that I had made the right decision to go on this blind date that I was already regretting.

“So what are you going to wear?” Fanny asked.

“I haven’t given it any thought,” I replied.

“What about that new dress, the orange-and-yellow mohair?” 

“Mom, I’m not wasting that dress on someone I don’t know.” I glared at her.

“I say we check out your closet,” suggested Fanny, pushing away from the table. Mah jongg can wait. I’ve had no luck all night.

“What the hell,” I wanted to scream.

 The ladies bounded to my bed-room and started looking over the outfits in my closet. They agreed with my mother that I should wear the new dress.

I balked. While trying the dress on, I swore I was not going to waste this dress that I’d been saving for an important occasion.  They were right, of course. What occasion could be more important than meeting my future husband to whom I was married for more than fifty-five years?