AT THE BIRDHOUSE

We used to play poker at The Birdhouse. When we were in junior college. We never gambled with much money. A lot of penny ante stuff. Remember, we were in juco. Had we had a lot of money then we would have been in university as the Brits say. I know, some Amers like to say that, too. It makes them seem more worldly.

We past the time there. It was called The Birdhouse because it was where one of the guys lived. His last name was Bird. His parents were often up at those odd hours so they didn't care if we played cards late into the night and into the early morning. Actually, sometimes they would come home very late so we had the Birdhouse to ourselves. Not that we did anything bad. Except smoke a whole bunch of Marlboros, Tarrytons, Winstons, and Camels. There weren't any light ciggies back then. I mean Viet Nam was going on and none of us expected to last long anyway.

Thinking back, Bird, Sherm, and I were the only ones not to go. There were 5 Air Force guys, one Army, and one in the Navy band. Fortunately, all the guys came back. But by that time, there were no more poker parties. That's not right: little Bird got married and we had a few poker games at his house. Until I got married. That ended that.

We were pretty harmless back then. Lots of stories, half-truths, bald or is it bold faced lies, bragging, sharing concerns. And smoking. All fired up, though a couple only smoked cigars. We drank coffee, too. Especially at the Bus Stop where not too long after, all took their physicals for the service and most departed from there for duty.

There were some raucous times. Once two buds decided to have a fist fight. Navy vs Air Force. Navy won. Navy also won the rematch, which surprised most. Not me. Navy was a hoss.

I guess why I'm thinking back to The Birdhouse is that's where we watched the first Super Bowl. Forty-five years ago. At the Birdhouse on a Sunday afternoon/night at our junior college frat house.

The Packers won.