Solitaire
Confession: I play a lot of Solitaire. Even when watching TV, I have a game going at all times. Middle of the night? Can’t sleep? I can go through 20 games before finally succumbing to slumber.
Scrabble is my go-to game on an airplane, but it carries a level of frustration I don’t need.
Solitaire slows my brain down. It keeps me from coming up with ideas—of which I have too many. It numbs the thought process or redirects it to clearing the digital game board.
I call it a form of meditation. One card at a time. One move leads to another, then another. The repetition, the challenge, and the rhythm of the movements all combine to put me in a semi-altered state.
I’d forgotten until recently that my mother used to play Solitaire with a real deck of cards, seated at the end of the dining room table. The memory flooded back: the shuffling, the fwip-fwip of cards being placed in rows, her sighs.
Looking back, I wonder what was on her mind. Was this a form of meditation for her, too?
Playing Solitaire on an iPad is so different from the tactile sensation of feeling the cards as they’re played. A well-worn deck is soft and a bit grimy. A newly opened one is firm and slippery.
These are things lost in the digital world.
As the third-born of the brood, coming of age during the dawn of feminism, I was not an easy kid for her to raise. Mom was a housewife through most of her married life. Although trained as a teacher, and a graduate of Drake University, the expectation of women at the time was to stay home raising children and serving dinner after the cocktail hour.
And that was what she did.
Was she bored? How could she not be? I, mistakenly, thought she was boring.
Last night, as I played the 428th game in my current streak, I found myself thinking about the world, politics, and life—and how one different move in a game can change everything.
You can lose the same game over and over. Then suddenly, you make an unexpected move—something that at first seemed like the wrong direction—and the entire board shifts.
You win.
But here's the thing: life doesn’t feel like Solitaire right now.
It feels like Monopoly—and the wrong people are running the board.
In Solitaire, the only opponent is yourself. There’s a quiet rhythm, a fairness to the game. The rules are consistent. No one’s hoarding the bank or sliding hotels onto Boardwalk when no one’s looking. It’s about patience.
Monopoly? That’s a different beast. It rewards domination. It encourages greed. And in our real-world version, the players in power are cheating—openly.
They manipulate the dice, stack the deck, buy the referees, and dip into the bank's money when they think we’re not looking.
They pass “Go” and collect more than $200 while convincing the rest of us we should be grateful for Baltic Avenue and a pile of Chance cards that always seem to break the same way.
And the worst part?
So many of us are still trying to play fair.
We’re playing by the rulebook while the rulebook is being torn up. We keep hoping that if we’re careful enough, decent enough, we’ll somehow win a game that’s been rigged against us from the start.
So I go back to Solitaire.
Not to escape, but to return to a world where there are rules.
Wax on, wax off. Wax on, wax off. Says the Zen Master.
But I know this:
If we want a world that feels more like Solitaire and less like Monopoly, we have to stop pretending the cheaters will ever play fair.
Whatever emotional deficiencies they’re trying to fill, they will keep lying, cheating, and stealing until they “win”—but by then, there’s no game left to play.
Greed is not good.
And we must stop letting them stay in the game.
Kaye Gammack
Speaking of Kaye Gammack, my sister and I started a column called Kaye Gammack’s Secret Sauce. Mom was a serious cook, and in this column we share some of our favorite recipes — for a cause. This week we talk about her recipe for popovers and roast beef.
OKOBOJI
59 Days
There are 59 days left to take advantage of the Early Bird discount for the Okoboji Writers’ and Songwriters’ Retreat—save $100 off the $895 enrollment fee if you sign up by July 15.
You will cherish every minute of this experience—from the Sunday night hotdog roast hosted by returning volunteers, to the small group workshops, panel discussions, boat rides, musical performances by our songwriters, and simply spending time with people who love to learn and grow.
If the full fee is out of reach, we offer scholarship opportunities. Don’t let finances be the reason you miss this.
The Okoboji Writers’ and Songwriters’ Retreat will be held September 28-October 1. It has sold out each of the past four years. Only forty seats remain!
This Monday’s Zoom Guest: Maura Casey
Join us this Monday for a special conversation with Maura Casey, longtime New York Times editorial writer and author of the newly released memoir, Saving Ellen, which is already earning rave reviews.
We’ll talk with Maura about what she learned in the writing process, how she found an agent, and what publishing a memoir is really like—from draft to release. You’ll also have the chance to ask your own questions.
Maura is one of six featured speakers at this year’s Okoboji Writers’ and Songwriters’ Retreat, where she’ll share even more insights on memoir writing. Don’t miss this chance to connect with her in an intimate, behind-the-scenes conversation.
Want to launch a successful Substack Column?
is a member of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative and the executive director of Story Summit, an international educational organization designed for aspiring writers. We will be be co-facilitating a virtual class on how to launch a successful Substack column. There will be three 90-minute sessions held in June. Join us? Learn more: https://www.storysummit.us/substack-success
Check out the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative
There are so many great posts coming in this week from members of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative! If you don’t already, subscribe to the roundup of their columns that will be published this Sunday. I haven’t read them all yet, but for a sneak peak, check out
’s story about a mixed marriage, and has a great piece about a theater in Washington, Iowa.The problem with selecting just two to promote is that each member of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative offers a perspective like none other. Together, we are linking readers to professional writers who share an interest in the state.
My band mate has a version where you keep the deck in your hand. I’ll ask him for a refresher and then share it with you Julie.
I confess! I too play solitaire in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep. Played a lot as a kid and different versions with my Dad.
I agree, it takes away all the complicated stuff whirling thru the mind.