Sometimes we forget to acknowledge the most important part of a lesson learned …

Playing Monopoly one night with my ten-year-old granddaughter triggered a childhood memory. “What does it say, Nani?”

“It says: ‘You Have Won Second Prize in a Beauty Contest. Collect $11.’”

“Eleven dollars won’t save your bacon,” Zoey said. “I want to buy six hotels.”

“I won a beauty contest, once.” Helping her line the hotels up nice and neat on Boardwalk and Park Place, I reminisced, “I was around your age.”

“Your turn, Nani.”

“It was at Miller Park, we lived across the street from the playground. They held recreational events in the summer. I won a singing contest, too.”

“You owe me six hundred dollars, no wait—eight hundred dollars …”

“I stood on a picnic table and belted out, Where the Boys Are, a cappella.”

“Where the boys are?”

“By Connie Francis,” I said, doling out all the money I had.

“Uh, Nani, you’re short a hundred.”

“But the biggest contest I won that summer was the box hockey tournament—I’ll have to mortgage my B&O.”

“Box hockey? And what’s a—ca—pella?”

“It’s like regular hockey but played with a large wooden box. I played a lot of hockey on the lake that winter with my brother and his friends, so I knew how to slide a puck around with a stick—a cappella is singing without accompaniment—I won Miller Park’s title. Now I could compete in the regional.”

“Regional?”

“Play against the other park’s winners. My dad went with me because it was a big deal for the neighborhood. Miller Park hosted the finals and I was their champ—they were all counting on me. All week leading up to the tournament I got a lot of attention, a lot. The local news even covered it.”

“You won that too, I suppose,” Zoey said. “Oh, goody, ‘Advance to Go. Collect 200 dollars.’”

“No. A boy with a crew cut and freckles. I never scored once. I had been on the mountain top and slid into the valley within seconds. My dad consoled me with the usual clichés on the long walk home.

“Anyway, they aired the interview with the crew cut boy on the local news that night. I’ll never forget what he said: ‘I wasn’t gonna let a girl win, that’s for sure. I practiced and practiced.’”

“Your turn, Nani.”

“I hadn’t practiced at all! I practiced looking in the mirror announcing to a sea of adoring fans that I was the greatest in the land. The Box Hockey Champion of the World! I remember standing in front of a mirror, saying it over and over. I practiced that real well.”

Zoey loaded her hot cocoa with more whipped cream. “You know you lost, don’t you Nani?”

 “Yes, well done,” I said. “I knew it was over when you bought Park Place.”

“Okay, Nani, now we’re tied.”

 “What I guess I didn’t know … ” I said, folding up the board, “was how much it hurt.”