Our trip to Terre Haute

Today Andrew and I took a trip through Brazil (where the locals say "Bray-zill") to Terre Haute, a town that once marked the border between Canada and Louisiana. We were disappointed to learn there is actually no terre haute in Terre Haute; it's as flat as most of the rest of Indiana. In an ironic twist, we were surprised to learn that Terre Haute is the home of Clabber Girl Baking Powder. Our state: flat landscapes and fluffy pancakes.

The reason for our pilgrimage was the state chess tournament. There were hundreds of kids competing and 30 schools in the 3rd grade and under category. Andrew's team ended up in 5th place with a heavy trophy that will no doubt stand forever as a memorial to their glorious achievement.

If you've never seen a chess tournament, they're surprisingly brutal. Hundreds of kids face off in each round, mano-a-mano. In each match, one kid wins and one kid loses. There's no "everybody's a winner" in chess. Two kids enter the ring, and only one emerges victorious. (My favorite relevant quote on the back of a team's t-shirt today: "The first rule of Chess Club is, you do not talk about Chess Club.")

During the rounds, parents wait nervously in a huddled mass at the end of the room, behind a row of tables. They're not allowed to see or influence the competition. Within a minute of the commencement of a round, matches start to end and the participants rise, leave the table and begin the long walk back to the parents' huddle. As the kids walk back, parents try to guess the outcome by the way the kids are walking: the gait, the bounce. Usually the kid who walks back fastest is the victor.

Andrew loves it all, win or lose. During one round, Andrew was the first from his team to return to the huddle, and his walk was excruciatingly non-revealing. One of his teammate's parents asked Andrew how he did. "Good," was Andrew's reply. Then a pause. The parent tried to clarify: "You won?" "No, I lost." But he did good. I love that kid.