I have a confession.
I'm a Lutheran who can't play euchre.
[sounds of bodies dropping to the floor in shock across the Germanic sectors of Christendom]
I so can't play euchre that I have absolutely no idea what the rules or the strategies or even the point of euchre are. I have had numerous people, kind and patient tutors all, plus Yahoo! robots, attempt to teach me euchre. They have all failed.
When someone tries to walk me though a game -- when they start talking about trumps and tricks and bowers -- each of my brain synapses turns into that guy in "The Scream."
I remember my college days, when I was involved with Lutheran Student Movement. A great bunch of kids; lots of enthusiastic euchre players. It would be 1:00 or 2:00 in the morning in some drafty lodge at a camp on an LSM retreat weekend and there they'd be, playing furiously through the night. Participants would tell me the next day that they were having lots of fun, although that wasn't very obvious during the game. I felt a mixture of mystery and frustration and jealousy and shame.
Now, I don't think I'm a dumb person. I understand geometry; I understand German (or used to); I understand how to plug electronics together and program them. I taught myself how to knit; how to knit mittens even. I can divide fractions. I can figure out ratios. I've read Chaucer. I put my computer desk together my own self. I can identify birds. I can bale hay. I can write press releases.
I can't play euchre.
And this bugs me. One of the things I hate the most is not being able to understand something. Which isn't the same as not being able to do something. It's the not understanding that gets me. It turns me ape-ca-ca crazy.
If any of you out there in the blogosphere can successfully teach me how to play euchre, I promise you three dozen homemade cookies. I will mail them to you. I'm serious. Teach me euchre. If you dare.