Family Poker

Article by William Abernathy, 2/1/2002

Many of our acquaintances - perhaps even most - consider poker a vice. My wife and I call it a family value. We play Texas hold'em almost every Friday night with our children. Our house motto is, "If you have a chip and a chair, you have a chance."

The primary advantages that poker has over other games is that it gives instant feedback for poor decisions, allows for mistakes during play, and although chance or luck is involved, chance plays a smaller role. In chess and checkers, one poor play can lose the game. In poker, one poor play costs a person the hand, but it seldom costs that person the game. In Life and Monopoly, luck plays too large a role: When faced with a row of hotels, Monopoly doesn't allow a person to fold. We use poker to instill persistence, as everyone has won a game after going all in. Again, "If you have a chip and a chair, you have a chance."

From our children's perspective, poker is tremendously different, because we pay them if they can beat us. Paying for success began when we had an epiphany that we could spend less money per weekend while enjoying our family more if we put up prize money. We currently have six players (Shades, Shark, Jelly, Stretch, Ammo, and Cato the Younger), and pay cash to whomever places in the top three. Paying for success means that the kids get additional spending money, we spend less per weekend when compared to movies and meals in restaurants, and we have much more interaction with our kids than if we were watching television like mute zombies.

After playing poker for a year, we've learned that we can instill our family values while dealing the shovels, jewelry, lovelies, and puppy tracks. We've used our poker games to teach the difference between possible and probable, counter the school's "all are equal" mantra, properly define prejudice, and, believe it or not, hammer home the unpleasant side of teen sex.

Poker has allowed us to condense our lessons about life in ways that we didn't foresee. We were able to teach, and continue to teach, that we want our children to reach their maximum potential, even if it means being better than we are. In the beginning, the kids thought that our poker advice was condescending. Jelly once told Shades, "Just because you have all the money doesn't mean that you know more." Shades replied through a laugh, "It means exactly that."

Poker has allowed us to teach our children that our advice is heartfelt and usually correct, that our values lead to success and happiness, and that we want them to have great lives. Our poker advice was to fold sooner, fold more often, and bluff occasionally. After giving our advice a try, all of them have won more money. We told Stretch to accept that when her bluffs are raised, she should fold. She does, and has become dangerous. We use the success of our poker advice as evidence that, just as we have never misled them in poker, we will never mislead them in life. Our advice is honest and well-meaning.

When we first began playing more than a year ago, Shades won 50 percent of the games and Shark took two-thirds of the remainder. The kids were losing because they lacked the ability to distinguish between what is "possible" and what is "probable." For example, they kept tossing in their money when they had three cards to a flush after the flop because they believed winning was possible. After putting their knowledge of fractions to use, they now know that they will lose more than 20 hands before they get their cherished flush. Possible isn't synonymous with probable. After grasping this concept, the kids realized that they didn't have enough money to lose 20 hands to win one.

After stumbling onto the fact that we could use our poker games to teach family values like persistence, unselfish advice, and the difference between possible and probable, we started actively searching for other lessons. Did I mention that our family has four daughters?

We linked the poker practice of bluffing to relationships. In short, boys bluff. Shades told the girls that he was the best bluffer because he was a boy, and boys have a natural ability to lie to girls. (Our current poker games consist of four girls and two boys.) Shades told the girls that boys would forever be telling them that they should get naked together if they are in love. But, it's a bluff, a lie, a prevarication. Boys bluff about being in love and they bluff well. Shark told the family about how many times she went on only one or two dates because she remained clothed. The boys always told her how much they wanted to be with her, but when she kept her clothes on, they stopped asking her out. We tell all the children that if a person really loves them, they will love being with them while their skin is covered with cotton. Shades told the family that all too often, boys view getting girls naked the same as they view a poker game: Bluffing is required and rewarded. Every once in a while, to keep the pain fresh, Shades shows his cards and brags about besting someone with a bluff. Since everyone hates losing to a bluff, Shades does it to hammer home the point that getting naked with someone who is bluffing feels a hundred times worse.

Our time together at the table has taught us that today's schools teach only two relationships: 50-50 and 100-0. In the beginning, the kids were wholly unable to understand the concept of 10-1 odds or 2-1 odds. The cards were either good or bad, 100-0. If deemed good, they were all equally good, 50-50. Cato was persistent in always putting in money to see the flop. Her reasoning rang with the sound of a school lecture - "All cards can win." We could hear the refrain of a teacher - "All people are equal." Sadly, Cato lost lots of poker games before she stopped believing that all cards are equal before the flop. Our family does not pretend that we are equal. We recognize and praise each family member's individual strengths, like Jelly's outstanding drawings and Cato's wonderful writing. We have used poker to counter the public school's mistaken mantra. All cards are not equal and neither are people.

Prior to playing poker, we had had discussions with Jelly about her choice of "friends," with less than desired success. When we told her that she should stop being friends with people who get poor grades, she told us that we were prejudiced. She absolutely could not understand the concept of judging people based on their actions. To her, any and all judgments were examples of prejudice. Poker has allowed Jelly to better understand us. To break a losing streak, Shades told her to fold when her cards were lower than tens. He hammered home that it was necessary to make poker decisions with limited information. Eureka! Getting bad grades is limited information, just like having only two cards out of seven. She has vaguely come to understand that her parents were not "prejudging;" they were "post-judging," making decisions with limited information. She now understands that her parents believe bad grades are enough information to warrant a decision. We no longer face the "you're prejudiced" argument when asking her to make decisions about people. Poker has taught her to make predictions with limited knowledge.

Our only remaining major advantage over the kids is our ability to read tells. (Shades, a.k.a. Dad, has this moniker because he put on a pair of sunglasses when the kids complained that he was staring at them.) Here, too, we have shared our knowledge with the kids. First, decide whether players are acting. If they are, they are doing the opposite of what their cards say they should. Acting weak means strength, while acting strong indicates weakness. The kids are listening and learning. Stretch recently told Shades, "I know you are weak because you are calculating whether to call my bet. When you are strong, you call quickly. When you are weak, you calculate." She was right. Ammo told him in a different game, "Dad, you had a look. You're bluffing." Ammo raised, and Shades lost.

If you are tired of board games and TV, have a couple of hours before bedtime, and enjoy teaching your kids how to live a proper life, play a little Texas hold'em. Our starting stake is 25 times the beginning maximum wager. We double the limits every 30 minutes. At the 90-minute mark, the game becomes pot-limit. If a game lasts two hours, we go no-limit. Almost all games last between one and a half and two and a half hours. Play a few nights. You will discover that it is a great way to instill family values