I first learned to play poker at the end of the summer between eighth and ninth grade. It all began when I was playing football at a local park with a group of friends. I had stayed too long, and it wasn’t a good thing to return to my house past curfew. I pedaled furiously on my green Schwinn 10-speed to make it home.

At about the point I reached maximum speed, I passed several of the players who were walking home. I looked left across the street at them and tossed a friendly jab their way about having lost the game. As I brought my eyes back to the riding task at hand my bike simultaneously slammed into the rear left corner of a vehicle that jutted out from the line of parked cars.

My bike hit so hard it lodged into the car and stayed there. I continued on my journey, first taking out the vehicle’s rear taillight with my right knee as I proceeded to do an aerial somersault. I still recall that turning sensation knowing pavement awaited my landing.

It was fortunate that I hit first on my lower back and tailbone. Breaking that bone was minor compared to the paralysis or death that could have come from a broken neck. The landing still stunned me and knocked the wind from my body.

Things blurred after that as I flailed about gasping for air before I rode in an ambulance to the St. Anthony Hospital which was a block away. I do remember my friend Raul had to help the police officer to dislodge my bike from the car.

Sporting stitches, I found myself recuperating at home for the last two weeks of glorious summer. Sitting around wasn’t my normal routine, and a buddy of mine, Woody, came over to relieve the boredom by teaching me how to play poker.

Woody is good at virtually everything he tries, but I think he would agree patience isn’t his first virtue. He let me know in the kind way juveniles speak to each other that my poker play was, shall we say, subpar. The more he pointed out the idiocy of my moves, the more determined I became to play well. An addiction was born during those two weeks of gentle coaching, and I have continued playing poker for 50 years.

I prefer playing cards with friends and actually have one amigo I have played poker with for over 40 years. We gather regularly to play for “chips,” while sharing tall-tales, libation and grub. The energy is akin to that of a good book club, and I am sure many out there are missing their traditional gatherings due to coronavirus restrictions.

As we watch deadlines for house quarantine be extended, and as we hear about the resurgence of cases in jurisdictions that were reported to have gained control over the virus, all of us are wondering when or if life will ever return to some semblance of normal.

My friends and I have debated when we should have another poker game. Nothing stopped us from playing until this nasty virus began circling the globe, and we are antsy to shuffle and deal.

Our missing poker is a small problem in the face of what so many have lost and are facing, but the reality is that these little losses are compounding psychologically for all of us.

There are those who are protesting the loss of their freedoms and jobs, and they are claiming government restrictions are a constitutional infringement of their rights. I sympathize with their plight, but the stakes in this game of life appear too high.

A recent news article reported that an elderly group of long-term poker friends in Florida played a game on March 12. The shutdowns were not in affect as group gatherings of 50 or less were the recommendation at the time. One of the players was coughing and sniffling during the game. All eight of the participants came down with debilitating levels of coronavirus infection and three died.

It took approximately two years for the Spanish flu to run its course killing 10 percent of those who were infected. At that time, the world had a population of 1.5 billion people, and it is estimated 500 million were infected and 50 million died. Experts similarly expect coronavirus to keep circulating until we have gained herd immunity and/or develop a vaccination, a process that is also estimated will take one to two years.

It is fortunate we are not dealing with the Spanish flu today when the world’s population exceeds 7.5 billion and we move about far more readily than in 1918. By extrapolation, at least 250 million people would perish today if we faced the death rates brought by the Spanish flu rather than the current virus.

However, the lower death rates and infections for the coronavirus virus are still overwhelming medical systems throughout the world, and at this juncture, our best chance of getting through this together continues to be staying apart.

I consider poker a metaphor for life. Everything we do has a cost and risk associated with it, and every hand of cards I have ever played involves this assessment. Never in my life did I think potential death would have to be weighed while playing cards with friends. I cherish my freedom but I care equally for my friends. In this game of life and death the choice is obvious.

Jesse Robison is a Pocatello native who has lived in Mexico and other places. He was educated at Idaho State University and University of Idaho. Robison works as a mediator and insurance law consultant, but his passion is public art. He has spearheaded numerous art improvements throughout Pocatello, including the Japanese garden located at Pocatello Regional Airport, and he serves on the Bistline Foundation. Robison currently resides in Pocatello.