The Family *roll

This past weekend, my colleague (colleague. Ha!) Jason and I headed to Danbury, WI for a St. Olaf organized philosophy retreat with the philosopher Susan Wolf. We spent the days at a faculty member’s lake house discussing a series of Susan’s unpublished papers on the meaning of life, morality and love. The sessions were excellent, with Susan proving to be a wonderfully generous and sympathetic interlocutor. Jason and I spent the nights at the Hole in the Wall Hotel, which is adjacent to the Hole in the Wall Casino. I had never been to a casino before although (perhaps because?) I do like gambling. The first night we got our feet wet on the slot machines — I lost 2$ more or less instantly — before heading over the blackjack tables. We played the low-stakes table and I had success, almost doubling my 10$. Jason was less lucky. Although in his case, luck perhaps had little to do with it: during one hand he hit on 21. The dealer took pity on him and refused to give him a card. In general, the dealer and the people at the table were very friendly and helpful, telling us when to double down, when to split, when to hit, and when to hold. Being prudent, I tended to heed their advice. Being Jason, Jason did not.

Flush with success, we headed back to the casino on night two, this time with Susan Wolf in tow. We all played the slots for a while (this time I actually won $4). I never thought that my philosophical career would have me playing slots in northern Wisconsin with Susan Wolf. The meaning of life indeed. It was great fun. Having had my fill of slots, I returned to the blackjack table where, once again, I enjoyed modest success. With some 20$ in my hand, I followed Jason to the craps table where, he told me, the best odds in the house can be found. 1.5 minutes later I had $5 left. So back to blackjack.

I had promised Emily I would get her a momento. I headed over to the casino gift shop and said, “I would like to buy something for my wife. Something really cheap.” The cashier got a kick out of that. I settled on a mug, but decided to get it on my way out. I headed back to blackjack where I survived at the table for about 30 minutes with some $6. I needed $3 for the mug. And then I found myself with $2 of chips and literally $1 in my pocket. What to do? Of course, if I continued playing, I might win more money so I could leave with the mug and a few dollars. And if I lost? Well, how much could Em want a $3 mug anyway, right? I was inclined to stay at the table. But then I thought of Em and the fact that she was home alone with Ellie for the first time. And that she had described the previous night with Ellie as “a gong show.” I got off the stool and bought the mug.

I was hoping to take some pictures of the gambling action but, wouldn’t you know, cameras are not welcome in casinos. So I only got one picture before security pounced of the screen above the slot machine that took my $2:

On the way home we passed through a town called “Chisago”. Every time I saw the name a set of neurons misfired in my head.