I come from a long line of gamblers.
My great-grandfather, Pappy, was known to be pretty loose with his money. In fact, many of the old family stories often conclude with a "What can you expect when Pappy gambled all the money away?" The way my grandparents tell it, Pappy, not the Depression hit our family the hardest.
I only remember two things about Pappy. One, he kept a really wide rubber-band around his wallet. And two, that his theme song was "My Way." You've got to respect someone who actually has and is known to have a theme song. Let alone such a ballsy one.
Time has a way of romanticizing vice. Pappy's gone and his habits, however damaging to the family at the time, are now lovingly related through anecdotes.
My uncle, on the other hand, has a way to go before any of his misadventures are retold in any sort of cherished manner.
I'm kept in the dark about most of my immediate (meaning not dead) family's troubled pasts. What I do know about my uncle is that, when in Las Vegas, he goes to some sort of "special" casino off the strip where, like Cheers, everyone knows his name.
My mother often reminds Ben that I have the gambler blood in me. Although I have never demonstrated any sort of addiction to gambling, Ben also reminds me of this fact whenever I want to buy a lottery ticket. Which, of course, is about once a year.
I don't think the gambling bug skipped me. Instead, I think I learned early on that I'm completely unlucky and will never win anything substantial in my life. I don't win. Period.
I still love Vegas, though.
Finally, it's here! Vegas week (or a couple days) on dollarshort.org
