![]() ![]() I remember their laughter f illing the house, along with the gentle clack of the tiles when they pushed and mixed them along our oak kitchen table. I was familiar with the game, because my mother, who passed away in 2004, used to play with her friends from the sisterhood of Temple Israel in Minneapolis. I volunteered, worked part time and, when I wanted to socialize, I had my own circle. Over the years, she had urged me to learn mah jongg so I could join her and her friends. “I wish you played mah jongg,” said Eudice, who was 90. ![]() ![]() It’s been five years since my mother-in-law tacked the note she had scrawled onto the bulletin board in the auditorium at Sholom Home, the nursing home in St. W anted: a fourth for mah jongg, to play Tuesday afternoons in the 2 South Social Room. The set once belonging to Stacy Gallop’s mother-in-law, Eudice ![]()
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