Black Jack

Dad played the cards in his living room like he was in Vegas.  Teaching me Black Jack, always taking the card, take the risk when it really doesn’t matter.  No bets were made, no strategy, just seeing where the cards would fall.  As far as I know Dad never made it to Vegas.  He got drunk and played the game in the Vegas of his arm chair.  Jack, Ace, played up in hearts.  Dad taught me to play the cards.  He never taught me to gamble.  I could shuffle like a pro, deal fast, build to 21, make the split.  He always saw two nines instead of eighteen.  Double the risk, shuffle and cut, play the cards out.  Study and watch the cards fall, high roller from his living room Caesar’s Palace.  At times he would even shoot craps.

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Black Jack

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