{"id":2588,"date":"2018-11-30T08:28:25","date_gmt":"2018-11-30T14:28:25","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/garyborders.com\/pages\/?p=2588"},"modified":"2018-11-30T08:28:43","modified_gmt":"2018-11-30T14:28:43","slug":"a-nephew-triumphs-at-chess-on-thanksgiving","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/garyborders.com\/pages\/a-nephew-triumphs-at-chess-on-thanksgiving\/","title":{"rendered":"Checkmated on Thanksgiving Day"},"content":{"rendered":"

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We gathered for Thanksgiving on a warm autumn afternoon out in the country. A steady breeze scattered leaves across the back patio and down the hill to the pasture where a small herd of cows grazed. My Beautiful Mystery Companion and I were lawfully wed, as the term goes, at the bottom of that hill nearly eight years ago. So it is a special place.<\/p>\n

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After indulging in a typical feast of over-abundance, some of us sat outside around the pool. Our nephew Connor, now 13, mentioned that he had bought his portable chess set \u2014 a compact affair with magnetic pieces. Connor over the past few years has become an adroit chess player and competes successfully in UIL tournaments. He is my only chess partner these days.<\/p>\n

My first chess partner was my maternal grandfather, Joseph Bourque, who taught me the game when I was 7 or 8. Grampa Bourque was a quiet, talented man who in the early 1950s built the small house in which he and Grammy Bourque lived on a couple of acres outside Hopkinton, N.H. It was a grandchild\u2019s paradise, with a pond across the road on which we skated in the winter. I fell through the ice at about the same age I learned to play chess. A couple of cousins quickly fished me out and hustled me to the house, where I shivered by the fire and secretly reveled in the attention. There were a lot of cousins competing for attention in this French-Canadian Catholic clan.<\/p>\n

Like most New England homes, it had a finished basement that contained, besides the garage, a bar and pool table, and a small woodworking shop. In that shop, I first learned to love tools though I wasn\u2019t allowed to do much but look. One year, he built a giant toboggan that could fit at least a dozen kids, which we hauled to a nearby hill for repeated runs. Grampa Bourque built a covered bridge across the backyard brook \u2014 what Yankees call \u201ccreeks.\u201d On weekend nights, on occasion he pulled out his fiddle and played French ditties learned in his childhood. He was quite the Renaissance man.<\/p>\n

I became a devoted chess player, participating in tournaments at schools, winning more often than I lost. My dad and I played on occasion in our house on South Twelfth Street, once we moved to Texas. His tactic was to take an inordinately long time to make a move. I would become sleepy, being just 13. After he finally made a move, I would quickly make my move in hopes of ending the game and going to bed. Too often, I would make a dumb decision and he would pounce. I miss those late-night games.<\/p>\n

So on this Thanksgiving afternoon, a bit sleepy after two plates of food and a glass of wine, Connor pulled out his chess set and we began to play.<\/p>\n

When Connor and I began playing chess a few years ago, I laid down a couple ground rules, the same as those my father and grandfather told me:<\/p>\n