Everything I Know Useful in Life I Learned In High School
“When I think back on all the crap I learned in high school
It’s a wonder I can think at all
And though my lack of education hasn’t hurt me none
I can read the writing on the wall”
--Paul Simon, Kodachrome
This week I learned that a friend of mine, Thomas Kurihara, originally of Potomac, MD, had died. I knew Tom since 1971. I think my friend Bob Taylor introduced us. He was the second son of Japanese-American parents. His family originally lived in Hawaii and thus avoided internment in a domestic prison camp during World War II, one of the more sordid chapters of American history. And Tom was ever the optimist, kind and very funny. He became part of a sort of United Nations menagerie of guys, the children of immigrants from all corners of the earth, whom I still see frequently. We did many traditional 1970’s youthful things together, including drinking some quantity of beer. I remember Tom had that Asian gene which made him blush in an allergic reaction to alcohol. But of all our youthful activities, the glue which bound us most was playing low stakes poker. Tom was a fixture in our games, albeit not the best poker player in my recollection. He lost his stake frequently, and then some more. Eventually, we all had some “Kurihara script” (i.e., “I owe you” notes) for debts that Tom was to repay in the future. For decades now, we have been joking about paying off our debts with his script. But for Tom, to his credit, it was all about the fun of playing and he wasn’t so focused on winning.
Tom joined the US Navy and eventually got a government job with the National Bureau of Standards. He knew his electrical systems – in my first townhome back in the mid-1980’s Tom came over and repaired some electrical wiring which had gone bad. I thought he was a technical genius. I have that same problem now in my current home, but Tom isn’t here anymore to fix it for me. Both Tom and I remained geographically close to where we grew up, and I saw him periodically over the years as we sporadically gathered and continued our traditional low stakes poker games.
You learn a lot about life from poker -- how to fake it till you make it; how to bluff; how to evaluate the odds and risks; and when to call and when to fold. All that helped me as a lawyer too. Our poker games over the years involved our own “invented” rules. There was Tishler’s Rule which added another betting round after declaring high or low hands. If you weren’t part of our insider group culture, you had some trouble adapting to our specially evolved rules of the game. It is hard to explain, but there is a great deal of camaraderie that is gained while playing poker with old friends. Personally, I have never been interested in really gambling for the sake of money. I teach my government contract seminars in Las Vegas, and I guess I have been there almost 100 times over the years. But I never played poker in any casino. I suppose it was the friendship and not the poker I really sought. And Tom was my life-long friend, our connection made in our childhood poker playing days.
In recent years Tom and I and some others would meet for lunch at particular Indian restaurant buffet that Tom favored in Rockville, Maryland. Tom (like me) was a value seeker, and he liked the all you can eat menu. He always went back to the buffet for thirds and said that would be his one meal of the day. The second to last time I saw Tom, it was apparent that early onset Alzheimer’s had dimmed his mobility and speech. But his spirit and sense of humor remained. With a few old friends, we went out to lunch at Clyde's Tower Oaks Lodge in Rockville, MD. Tom got laughing as usual, and his always genial character shown through despite his troubles. Then we went back to his apartment which he was closing up to complete his move to Montreal, Canada to be close to his daughter. He had a large book collection and gave me two books to read. I need to sit down now and read them and ponder the meaning of life.
The last time I saw Tom was bittersweet. His daughter had driven him down from Montreal to Washington, DC and we gathered at a friend’s house. It is always sad to know you are probably seeing an old friend for the last time. Tom was still his sweet self. We said our goodbye. And so it goes.