The Zone plays it straight. My Grandma Lucille does not. Her table is a card table with one short leg and a folded-up church bulletin under it, set up in the front room every holiday and every reunion since before I was born. If you sit down at it, you play by her rules, and her rules are not up for discussion. Believe me. People have tried.

Lots of families play something like this. If yours plays different, that's fine. You're wrong, but that's fine.

At Grandma's we play with the jokers. To keep it to 52 cards and thirteen apiece, you take out the deuce of hearts and the deuce of clubs and put in the two jokers. The jokers count as spades, the highest spades there are. And the deuce of spades moves up right behind them. So the top of the trump suit goes:

That makes fifteen trumps in the deck instead of thirteen, which changes your counting. An ace of spades is not a sure book at Grandma's. I learned that at eleven years old, from my Uncle Robert, who laid the Big Joker on my ace and laughed for a solid minute. I have not forgotten. I have not forgiven.

Which joker is big? On our decks, the one with the color picture is big and the black-and-white one is little. Grandma decided this in about 1960, and if you bring a deck where you can't tell them apart, you can take it right back to your car.

♠ Four books minimum. Your team has to bid at least four between you. Grandma calls it "the board." If you and your partner can't find four books together, you shouldn't have sat down.

♠ Nil is allowed. Blind nil is allowed only if you're down 200. Not 100, like most people. 200. Grandma does not believe in rescuing people who got themselves in a hole.

♠ Game is 300, not 500. Because the food gets cold.

♠ Ten bags is still 100 off. Some things are sacred.

♠ Take all thirteen books and it's a Boston. A Boston at Grandma's wins the game on the spot, no matter the score, and you get to talk about it until Christmas. My cousin Larry ran one at the 1994 reunion and he is still talking about it, and Christmas was a long time ago.

♠ Winners stay, losers get up. There is always somebody waiting for a seat. Usually three somebodies, standing behind you, telling you what you should have played.

♠ No table talk. Trash talk is mandatory. You can't tell your partner what you've got. You can tell the other team anything you want about what they've got coming. Grandma's own favorite, said very sweetly while she's gathering up a book: "Bless your heart."

♠ Renege, and it's three books. If you don't follow suit when you could have, and somebody catches it, three of your books go to the other team. That usually sets you. Which brings me to Thanksgiving.

Thursday, November 27, 1997. Grandma's front room. Me and cousin Larry against Uncle Robert and Aunt Rita, who have been married thirty-eight years and have been partners at that table for thirty-eight years, and they have never once agreed about a bid. Great-uncle Gene keeping score on the back of a paper plate, the way he does, because he says paper plates don't lie.

It's 270 to 250, us. Robert and Rita bid six. On the third book, Larry leads the king of clubs, and Uncle Robert trumps it with the deuce of spades. Big smile. Two books later, Robert follows a club lead with the nine of clubs.

The nine. Of clubs.

Larry was out of his chair before the card hit the table. Robert said the nine had been stuck behind the jack of diamonds the whole time, that it was the humidity, that the cards were old, that Larry was always looking for trouble. Aunt Rita said she knew he had a club because he always holds his cards that way when he has a club. That did not help Uncle Robert.

Grandma Lucille put down the dish towel, came over, turned the tricks face up, looked at them for a very long time, and said "Renege." Just like that. Three books to us. Robert and Rita got set, we went over 300, and Uncle Robert didn't speak to Larry again until the sweet potato pie came out, and even then it was only to say "pass the pie."

To this day, if anybody at a family dinner says the word "humidity," the whole room falls out. At the 1998 reunion somebody had a T-shirt made that just said "IT WAS STUCK". Uncle Robert wears it. He still says it was stuck.