Henrietta Hay's Column

My 17-year-old granddaughter is an addict. My friend the philosopher is an addict. A retired professor from Mesa State College is an addict. A teenage girl who bags groceries is an addict. A kindergarten teacher is an addict. I am about to become an addict.

Addict: 1. One who is addicted, as to narcotics. 2. A devoted believer or follower.

Our addiction is not immoral, illegal or fattening. It will not cause physical illness, although it is hard on bones, tendons and eyes. It causes loss of muscle tone and it may cause strains in a marriage if both partners are not addicts. It does not require much brainpower, but it requires huge chunks of time. My friend the philosopher can indulge her addiction and watch Star Trek at the same time, but that takes remarkable coordination.

Our addiction does not require pills or white powder or booze. All it needs is a computer and a widely sold piece of software. The software is called Solitaire and it gives a whole new slant to a very old game.

I have played Solitaire off and on for most of my life. I learned it from my mother, who was also an addict. She, however, had to use her hands to shuffle and deal those slippery little playing cards. I can still see her sitting at the table, shuffling like a pro, flipping cards and either smiling or groaning depending on her luck.

Now I sit in front of a computer screen and watch the cards flip around on the screen at the command of my thumb. Some addicts are already wearing braces to ease their carpal tunnel syndromes.

Computerized games are not new, but Solitaire seems to be taking on a life of its own. My particular program has 17 different versions, including some that are so hard only a math major could call them fun. The old standards are Canfield and Klondike.

Canfield was the one I played in my youth, and I had forgotten how tough it is to win. According to Hoyle, the ultimate expert in card games, it got its name from the proprietor of a gambling casino at Saratoga. A gambler could buy a pack of cards for $50 and play this game of Solitaire. The House would give him $5 back for every card in the foundation piles, or $500 if he got them all. Needless to say, Canfield had figured the odds very carefully and was not about to lose any money. Not to be outdone I have been trying for several days to beat the odds, and so far I would say Mr. Canfield had a good thing going.

One interesting feature of computer Solitaire is that you cannot cheat -- not that I ever would, of course. I don't know anyone who cheats at Solitaire! But just in case you tried to sneak a look at a concealed card, or tried to move a card into a wrong spot, the computer zips it back to where it belongs faster than a speeding bullet.

My version does have one interesting feature. You can put an X in a square that says "Winnable." That doesn't mean that you are going to win, but that it is at least statistically possible. With random deals, some hands are truly not winnable. With me, most of them are not.

My personal theory is that there is a bunch of little green men back inside the computer dealing the cards. Each time you call for a new game, a whole new random deal flips out. It is impossible to imagine the kind of program that has been written to do what this one does. If that much knowledge and work went into something truly useful, we could save the world.

I have not checked with my favorite psychologist to see whether this addiction is curable. Perhaps it will be necessary to form a Solitairics Anonymous organization here.

My name is Henrietta. I am an addict. Oh well, Solitaire is better than smoking.