Monopoly Musings

Musings in the Time of the Great Resignation . . .

Here’s what I remember about playing Monopoly as a child:

First, the rare times that I was coming out on top, winning - the ferocious feeling of triumph, glee, gloating exultation and my subsequent fury and disappointment that no one else seemed happy for me - for me, me, me! – A winner – finally! I felt like one of those fat turkeys strutting around with their chests all puffed up; a peacock braying with egotistical pride, stunned that some unearned chance had made me king-of-the-hill.

Second, the many more times that I remember losing, losing, losing; sliding into pecuniary paralysis; terrified of the next move, the perilous roll of the dice that would plunge me into bankruptcy; the inevitable, fateful click, click, click of the metal shoe on the board, landing on the dreaded yellow square with the green hotels that would plunge me into my ultimate humiliation and defeat.

Then there was a long agony of sitting around the table while the others played on, round after round; their excited voices ringing out in triumph or despair. Finally, the murmured excuse of a bathroom break or a snack and then sneaking out the back door into the twilight where the other losers had found the swings and the trees beckoning with alternative games.

Suddenly the air was sweet again and I felt my belly soften into the warm summer embrace, the life giving air rushing back into my lungs, hearing the night birds sing a different tune in a whole different key. The rules of the inside game blurred and melted and were banished in an instant. Outside no one asked to see your holdings or deprived you of a move or demanded the last slip of pink paper with the dollar signs in order to stay at the table. Outside the game was ever in motion – the only thing required was your willingness to be present, and the goal was never to get you out but only and always to keep you in.

Now, six decades away from those early memories, we’re living through the time of The Great Resignation on the heels of the global pandemic. I begin to get a glimmer of understanding…

How many of us have turned away from the great American past time of “real life monopoly?” How many millions of us have snuck away from the table where the winners are taking away houses and building more hotels and sending other players to jail, never to pass go, never to collect another paycheck. We resigned from that game and we’re outside in the twilight of the American dream, listening for the night owl’s hoot and trying to remember the rules for the game where the only goal is to continue the play. We’re calling out, listening for the laughter of the other players, before the chill night wind sends us home.

If we are to be part of the solution and not part of the problem we must begin to re-imagine our relationship to work and to leisure - reclaim our humanity which is deeply rooted in the right to simply exist, and to co-exist without coercion or deadly competition. We are hardwired, after all, not just to compete but to cooperate and to share in the gifts around us. But to adjust our attitude away from the cut-throat gaming we see all around us and choose instead to play with the intent of keeping as many as possible in the game requires awareness, intention, practice, commitment, and - yes, undoubtedly some sacrifice.

Will you join me in re-writing the rules?

~ Rebecca Armstrong

[These musings were inspired by a post from Megan Wells in which she mentioned Monopoly in connection with childhood and heartache . . . it ignited something in me.]