Chess is the only game, perhaps the only thing, that has held my interest throughout my entire life. But what's so attractive about it? What's the secret ingredient that has captivated thinkers for centuries? And why can't I escape it? Family game night has always frustrated me. We play the classics: your Scrabbles, your Monopolies. But I've never been a great fan of games that hinge on luck. I just can't see the enjoyment in having an outcome dictated by a roll of the dice. That's not fair, I protest, if I had (pulled, rolled, picked up) those (tiles, numbers, cards), I'd be winning! Of course, family game night isn't really about winning, and this might suggest an unhealthy fascination with victory; let's leave that can of worms unopened for now. My point is that if the purpose of games is a test of skill, those based on luck fail miserably. If the point of games is to derive simple pleasure from an evening playing a game of chance with those you ...
I was really excited about this summer. I was going to embark on my first backpacking trip—walk into the wilderness in Utah or Colorado and emerge unscathed, a week older and years wiser. I'd work an editorial internship and make money writing. I would compete, grow, have fun. Live, live, live. I was, of course, concerned for the well-being of the nation when the first cases of coronavirus appeared in the United States at the beginning of 2020. But I didn't think the virus would impact my life. Thanks to government ineptitude and public apathy we found ourselves contending with a public health crisis in a matter of months. We left school, shut down the economy, and learned how to make sourdough. Now, this virus has wreaked profound havoc on the country, but disproportionately on those from racial or ethnic minority groups. I do not intend to undermine anyone's trauma or pretend that I've gone through anything similar because I really have b...
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