My love for mah-jongg began with viewing social media posts of friends, seated around a table covered with tiles. I imagined the camaraderie of me playing poker, though without cigars and maybe with glasses of wine. As I work from home, I was also enticed by the idea of having companionship — and fun.
I signed up for mah-jongg lessons with Janet Heller, a retired public school principal, who organized games pairing women at tables of four whose skills — or lack thereof — complemented each other. Janet circled the room advising us which hand to pursue — craks, bams, winds, flowers, dragons or dots — from the random tiles we picked.
I learned the Charleston was not only a dance but also the first steps of passing tiles in the game.
My table of women included a judge, a retired FBI agent and a 70-year-old artists’ model, who poses nude. This group of playmates was as fascinating to me as the game, as between pondering our moves the all-women group spoke briefly about our families and backgrounds.
I found myself laughing and making faces of surprise at various strategies, at someone obviously hoarding the tiles I needed, and having a great time, especially when I unexpectedly drew a wild Joker that made me a winner shouting “MAH-JONGG.”
Between games, we quietly listened to the melodic shuffling of the smooth tiles clinking against each other, thought to echo the sound of sparrows. Mah-jongg is the name of this bird in Chinese, the language of the country where the game was popularized in 1880 — though some form of it has been played there since the 1300s.
In a May 2021 Time magazine interview, Annelise Heinz, the author of Mahjong: A Chinese Game and the Making of Modern American Culture, talks about how the game became a timeless hobby for an intercultural audience.