Commentary by Jim Serger
You landed on Boardwalk, and guess what? I own it. You owe me $2,000 dollars, for I have a red hotel on that property. Pay up—I don’t care if you only have $500. Sell those properties back to the bank, and ante up, please.
We put all of our Christmas lights away. The weather is above freezing, outdoor lights are back in the box and up in the attic and a little bit of normalcy starts to settle in. The hustle and bustle is over.
The Winter Olympics are still weeks away. We have plenty of firewood, and Old Man Winter is still up to his games. So, why not re-kindle that old childish spirit with a good old-fashion game of Monopoly? I truly enjoy this game. It starts off with, “This will take forever.” Not even two seconds later: “I’ll be the cat.” “I’ll be the dog.” “I’ll get the car.” “I want the battleship.”
The excitement is radiant. We are driven to own Park Place and Boardwalk. We want our properties lined with tiny green houses. Proof of ownership is in full tilt. The money in our hands, the strategizing commences. We begin to prioritize. We watch our money and property like a true landlord or proprietor. The 8-year-old feels like an adult, the teenager feels like the king of the hill. Money and properties coming and going. Laughter, giggles, heartbreak and cheers are exchanged in three to four hours.
Game night is huge—but the true giddiness I feel is watching the little ones, the young ones and the teenagers hunker down and take the game with a little seriousness. A little competition is good, bragging rights are fun, plus, all are able to win.
What started out as, “This will take forever” always leads to a fun-filled evening in the middle of January. It’s freezing outside, but inside the game of ownership is under way.
So, pull out that game and let the money fly.
