Later this morning the three of us will head south to Massachusetts for the holiday. Our older son is flying in from Boston and will meet us at Tom's parents' house. Tom's sister's family will arrive for dinner, and we will celebrate over my mother-in-law's restaurant-level cooking and eventually play a large loud card game.

We are a game-playing family, on both sides. There are always card games in the offing, sometimes a giant Monopoly roundup (Tom is a ruthless real estate magnate), sometimes the dictionary game with hilarious nephews, sometimes just a companionable crossword puzzle with my father-in-law or a Scrabble game with my unbeatable dad. Over the years games have filled many holiday hours. I always took this for granted until a friend told me that her family never plays games. What happens instead, I wondered. Arguments? TV? The great thing about family card games is that everyone shares a conversation, disagreements are channeled into formalized jousting, and young and old are equals on the field. In Massachusetts our card game of choice is oh hell. In Vermont it varies by fad and number of players but has lately been contract rummy, though we often reprise the popular game of my father's youth--five hundred--a version of euchre that I recall my older relatives playing rabidly at every holiday gathering.

Even alone Tom and I play games. Usually, after he comes home from work, we have a round of cribbage by the fire before I start dinner and he goes upstairs to work on his photos. All of the younger generation (five boys total, if I include both sides) are eager game players. Their ages range from 13 to 25, and all play cards as well as the adults do. It is a fine thing to watch a 13-year-old go head to head with an 80-year-old.

So as I embark on this year's Christmas journey, I send you much love and a pleasant competitive spirit. Shuffle your decks well, and deal everyone a good hand. Cheers!