For reasons we could never quite grasp, my father brought only a minimal amount of food along for the trip. He rationed out sandwiches like he expected to get lost at sea, leading to frequent complaints of hunger from all of us. “Okay, okay,” he said, capitulating to our protests. He produced a small stash of individually wrapped chocolate coins, which immediately made all of us begin to salivate. As we reached for them, he brushed us away. “We’re going to play cards for them,” he said.
