I'm Still Here (I Think)

Two weeks ago I got a surprising phone call. It was from one of the county librarians, inviting me to drop in on the meetings of a chess club that she had just recently started. She said that so far there had been "14-16" attendees, even in bad weather, ranging in age from kids to 65. Somebody had told her that I am an experienced player, and she wanted me to come and give "pointers."

I had often wondered if any sort of a chess club could be possible in a small rural county such as this one -- small in population, at about 13,000, though large enough in area, at about 540 square miles.

So, though I had been eschewing chess in the last year or two, I couldn't help but attend. though my vision and my general feebleness have damaged my tolerance for driving at night.

I found a group of about 8, with no one even close to 65, and in general they were all beginners, mostly kids, and those children of the fast and ever-changing computer age had absolutely no interest in listening to pointers. But it was a pleasant group, and because I have a rating with the U.S. Chess Federation -- the organization that officially oversees most serious chess activities in the country -- I was immediately seen as some sort of guru. Till then I had no inkling that having a rating in the USCF could carry such prestige!

--At least I think I still have a rating (of 1926 -- high expert). But about five years ago the USCF lost track of me, and I do believe that they think I'm no longer breathing.

Way back in the 1970's I paid enough extra for five or ten years for my membership that I got a lifetime membership. Then, three years ago, I noticed that I was no longer receiving their monthly magazine, "Chess Life."

I wasn't particularly shocked or dismayed, because, as I had gotten well on into the third decade since getting that lifetime membership, I had started feeling guilty about continuing to receive their mag. That had to be costing them money, and the chess world has never been awash with cash. But this did mean that I was no longer able to stay up on the latest happenings in that scene. Sadly, I don't even know who is the current world champion.

This isn't the first or even the second time that I have been erroneously consigned to oblivion. I am certain that there are some of my former high school classimates, among those who may be still alive -- which I wouldn't know, having moved away from D.C. a quarter century ago -- who, like the USCF, would be surprised to learn that I'm still here and have been for a very long time, because somehow during the Korean War the rumor got around that I had been killed in the fighting. In fact I WAS in the military during that affray, but never got closer to the shooting than serving on Okinawa in the Air Force in 1954.

Somehow I have also managed to drop out of the field of vision of Howard University in D.C., of which I am a 1958 graduate, though my wife, who made no more effort than I did to keep them appraised, still receives their alumni magazine.

I suppose those classmates and Howard will never know the truth, but shortly word may get back to the USCF, because the librarian is talking about us playing in local tournaments and matches, which are usually USCF-rated. I do not know what will happen when I tell the director of the tournament or match that I used to be a lifetime member.

But that won't be the first time either that my presence, however innocuous I may think it is, has posed weird, difficult, and annoying questions for someone!