Rocket Chess

The chess-board is the world; the pieces are the phenomena of the universe; the rules of the game are what we call the laws of Nature. The player on the other side is hidden from us. We know that his play is always fair, just, and patient. But also we know, to our cost, that he never overlooks a mistake, or makes the smallest allowance for ignorance.
        -- Thomas Huxley, 1868

(Some of my writing pals may remember this Christmas story, written last year for our class in Merced)

After the year Mom nearly got busted for Christmas tree theft, we forever abandoned what had been a long-standing family tradition of buying our tree on Christmas Eve.

It may have been then that a new tradition emerged: the last-minute shopping spree.

This yuletide event was prompted by a local drug store that launched a huge ad campaign touting super bargains and specials on Christmas Eve. They promised to remain open until at least midnight.

We three kids were on very tight budgets, so the discounts presented quite an attraction – along with the excitement of joining a mob of procrastinators at the eleventh hour on Dec. 24.

At the time, this outing seemed to be very complicated – requiring careful application of intricate logistics under unbelievable time constraints.

In retrospect, it was really all about just six transactions. We were three siblings, each needing to find one present apiece for the other two.

We pushed our way through the throng, keeping our eyes out not only for likely purchases, but also for each other. One important objective was to maintain secrecy.

I confess to having been guilty more than once of trying to discover the identity of Christmas gifts in advance of the great opening. I squeezed, shook and otherwise examined any packages I could find – and I did not obey orders to stay out of restricted areas.

One December, I ventured into our off-limits basement a few days before Christmas. I wasn’t bold enough to turn on the lights, so I could only look at faint shadows in the semi-darkness, seeing nothing, but imagining all sorts of wonderful things.

Back at the drugstore, I focused on finding suitable items for my two sisters. This was particularly difficult because I had done no research and didn’t have a clue as to what they might like. At the same time, I pursued my secondary objective: catching a glimpse of their selections.

I spotted my older sister near the checkout stand and made a surreptitious approach from her blind side.

Success! She held a small cardboard box in her hand with the label in clear view. It was “Rocket Chess!”

Rocket Chess! Rocket Chess! That had to be for me. The previous summer I had become obsessed with chess.

My passion had driven me to whittling and I carved a set of chessmen out of branches. After hours of work, I discovered that nobody else in the family shared my interest and I couldn’t get anyone to play with me.

It’s probably just as well, though. In truth, it was pretty hard even for me to distinguish between the various chess pieces I had carved.

Well, my interest in the Royal Game hadn’t diminished – it was just in hibernation. And now, I was certain that everyone in the family would want to learn how to play Rocket Chess.

A year or two earlier, the United States entered the space race and our family gathered on the deck outside my parents’ bedroom to watch the Explorer or some other early satellite meander through the heavens – appearing to be a faint star itself, but one on the move.

I imagined that Rocket Chess pieces must be in the shape of spacecraft – and I couldn’t wait to discover the details and to explore the ancient game of chess in the context of modern technology and the space age.

Thank goodness it was already Christmas Eve. Only hours remained before I could get my hands on my new Rocket Chess set.

After returning home, we each sought a private location and began wrapping gifts. Needing scissors, tape and other supplies provided an excuse for trying to sneak more peeks at what my sisters sought to conceal.

Finally, we gathered in the living room and placed our gifts under the tree. We knew that by morning, these offerings would be enhanced by the “big” presents and we gulped hot chocolate in eager – no, it was more than eager… we gulped hot chocolate in greedy anticipation of what was to come.

Even after I had grown and was on the parent end of the Christmas experience, I always had trouble falling asleep on Dec. 24.

It wasn’t visions of sugarplums dancing in my head that kept me awake. It was the possibilities. Despite my efforts to discover what was in store, I never really knew what was to be revealed on Christmas morning.

Knowing that something was coming, and that it could be just about anything imaginable, was magic.

That year, I knew that Rocket Chess was in my future, but I tossed and turned for hours wondering what else lay under our tree.

I can’t recall what the “big” presents were, but I’ll never forget opening the gift from my older sister.

“Rocket Chess!” I exclaimed. “Just what I wanted.”

My sister looked over at me rather quizzically and said, “It’s not ‘rocket chess,’ it’s pocket chess.”

Dumbfounded, I examined the box more closely.

The package had been torn in shipping or by a customer in the store and a narrow, jagged line of exposed cardboard extended diagonally from the “P” in “pocket” – creating the illusion of an “R”.

The gift I held in my hands, on that memorable Christmas morning, was a miniature chess set – designed for travelers.

Designed for regular, earthbound travelers, that is.

It wasn’t Rocket Chess after all. But it was a neat little chess set.

I still couldn’t get anyone to play against me; but I enjoyed a number of games played against myself.

Not long after that Christmas, President Kennedy decided to make the space race a top priority for our country.

To this day, I wonder why a nation that was able to put a man on the moon couldn’t also invent Rocket Chess.