By Jill Fox
Mah Jongg was my escape. I think it was my mom’s escape too. Since my father passed away, I found it to be something we could still do that actually made her smile, which wasn’t that easy. Maybe it was the combination of focusing on the game and the joy of being together that did it. But, I guess that’s what Mah Jongg is all about.
For my family, this year was devastating. Aside from feeling like I got hit by a truck, I don’t know how else to describe it. In August, my father passed away from pancreatic cancer. His diagnosis was sudden, he declined fast and my family was devastated. My “high school sweetheart” parents, had just celebrated their fiftieth anniversary, and suddenly he was gone.
After my dad passed away, my mom spent most of her time schlepping to South Florida to be with my family, and we played a lot of Mah Jongg. We played with my friends, we played with my kids, I even convinced her to attend a Mah Jongg night at a local coffee shop.
On February 21, my mother died suddenly. Both parents gone in six months time. Orphaned at 40. The rush of déjà vu flooded my older brother and me. From the phone call to the rabbi, the plans for the shiva, writing the obituary, the list went on…
Always full of sarcasm and in search of a deal, I made light of our tragedy whenever possible and just to keep myself afloat. I even asked for a frequent buyers’ discount on the casket — seriously. Three hundred dollars back in my pocket, thank you very much.
The past month has definitely been a strange time to be in mourning. I can’t go to synagogue, and I’m doing my best to recite virtual Kaddish whenever I can remember it’s Friday. But, I have found that staying busy has been the best thing for me, which brings me back to Mah Jongg — my escape.
Enter Coronavirus.
My coping mechanism was taken away. No more Mah Jongg night, no playing with my friends, my distraction from this horrific year was gone. At first I tried. I asked, “Can we play outside? Can’t we just wear gloves?” My questions were met with eye rolls and hard no’s from my hypochondriac friends. Although I quickly learned they would be right.
With some time on my hands and my desire to keep busy so as not to think about the loss of my amazing parents, I had an idea. I searched online for something to clean my mah jongg set. Just as I suspected — nothing. Not on Amazon, not online, not anywhere. Of course, you could grab any old schmatte to wipe down your racks down, but with all this talk of germs related to the Coronavirus, something like this would certainly have value.
All my friends and I do when we play is nosh and touch our tiles — not a good combination these days. What if I came up with some cute, humorous little item to use to clean your set? Mah Jongg-related tchotchkes are not so easy to find, especially ones people in their forties would appreciate. My husband as well as my friends’ already make fun of us for playing an elderly person’s game.
I began to brainstorm, and in a matter of minutes, I had it — Mah Jongg Wipes. Some “SOAP” to wipe your “CRACK.” Those in the know will quickly realize that “Soap” and “crack” are both Mah Jongg tiles. Adorable, right?
I certainly thought antibacterial wipes to clean your set were a cute idea, but was this the right time to start a business? What was I thinking? I can barely keep my shit together right now, and the economy is in the toilet.
A day or so later came my aha moment. My mom was quite the Mah Jongg Maven, but I really needed a component for my dad. Then, my little project could mean something. I could really pay homage to my family.
In honor of my father, as well as in the hopes of finding a cure before my son grows older, I will donate a portion of my sales to pancreatic cancer research. I found my mission so to speak — something positive to focus on during this strange time in everyone’s lives.
A few words I said during my mom’s funeral come to mind.
“I know she will always be right there with me, telling me which hand to play and whispering in my ear never to pass a flower.”
Now, I can whisper back to her that my crack will always be clean.
