Consider these two. Mahjong and Banangrams. They both involve tiles and both come in zippered carrying bags. And that’s where the similarities might end. I tried, half-heartedly, to play Mahjong. “You’ll love it.” “You’ll be good at it.” “It’s good for your aging brain.” I didn’t love it and didn’t give it enough time to possibly get good or to train my old brain. Actually, half-hearted is a generous assessment. My heart wasn’t in it. I thought that owning my own set would be just the ticket- endowment effect to the rescue. When that failed, another nemesis got involved- sunk cost. “I paid good money for this set and I’m keeping it.”
Mahjong gathered dust. Banangrams has not. I wasn’t hankering for Banagrams and was skeptical when it was given to me. But the first time the zipper was unzipped and the tiles spilled out, I was sold. It’s simple. Fewer tiles. Fewer rules. Smaller bag. Solo or together. With tiles on a table, not on a screen. I do love it. I’m pretty good at it (another generous assessment, playing mostly against myself). And my brain hasn’t rebelled.
Recently I was asked again to join a Mahjong beginners’ group. It reminded me of the dusty set in my closet. It’s textbook clutter: anything unused, unloved and easily and affordably replaced should you regret having gotten rid of it. So I’m giving my set to a friend who will love it and use it. Sort of a peace offering for having declined her invitation to begin. But when your heart’s not in it, it’s better for everyone if you’re honest.
Peeling open Bananagrams suits me better than Ponging in Mahjong. Honestly, what games are you playing with the stuff in your closet?