A few evenings ago, I walked into my neighbor’s house and
stumbled upon a cultural phenomenon. It was lying in pieces on the
kitchen table. It was a jigsaw puzzle.
A few evenings ago, I walked into my neighbor’s house and stumbled upon a cultural phenomenon. It was lying in pieces on the kitchen table. It was a jigsaw puzzle.
I felt compelled to make these good people understand how dangerous the situation could become, how these small bits of cardboard would alter the fabric of anyone whose life came into contact with them.
“Where are we supposed to eat?” I offered as a warning.
“In the living room,” said one of the victims.
You see, that’s how it starts with jigsaw puzzles. You eat in the living room. It’s fun, like camping out. But two weeks later, your life is ruined. And the puzzle sits, unfinished, talking to anyone who walks by, drawing them to the table, causing them to ignore friends, family or a neighbor who needs food to survive.
It always starts so innocently. My neighbor’s puzzle was 5,000 pieces, the finished product being a picture of a cozy cottage by a stream, surrounded by trees that all looked exactly the same and a night sky of uniform, dense darkness.
The puzzle allowed them to build the frame. Then it began to destroy lives. It lured loved ones to the table – young, healthy people in the prime of life. Even my daughter, who is 18. These people hunched over the table, no longer looking at you when they talked, ignoring your inquiries about the need for food.
Then, slowly, when it became more difficult to find pieces that fit, the formerly happy home began to unravel. A couple of pieces were knocked to the floor, and Max, the dog, chewed one. He once ate the phone, a whole other story. This time he just chewed until we realized it wasn’t Kibbles ‘n Bits he had in his mouth.
The puzzle piece got kind of soft, like clay.
“Well, that piece will probably fit anywhere,” said my neighbor, clearly starting to crack.
Other pieces attempted to escape the table, making a run for it. Troubled loner pieces spread further across the table. Some puzzle victims became more alienated, setting themselves apart with clumps of pieces, attempting to put together a tree, roof or the stream.
As we sat down to dinner, it happened, just as I knew it would. Puzzle pieces followed us into the living room.
“How did this get in here?” someone asked.
“I don’t know,” said my neighbor, “but don’t eat it. It looks like part of the roof.”
Puzzles have been doing this for centuries, since the first ones were created from wood in the 1760s to teach geography. During the Great Depression in this country, jigsaw puzzles were enjoyed by millions because they were cheap, and entire families could work on them. They provided entertainment for days at a time.
Now, during the winter, millions of unsuspecting Americans get lost in these things. People even set them up during parties. They spread pieces out on a table, and party-goers cannot help themselves. They start to fiddle with them, and next thing you know, instead of dancing to Billy Idol, guests are telling each other that the yellow piece isn’t the right yellow, try that one over there.
I’ve seen puzzles go bad. I’ve seen the damage they can cause. After dinner, the puzzle convinced my neighbor to return to the table, and he became frustrated, eventually cracking up completely.
“If I don’t get a piece for a while, I just pound one in until it fits,” he said.
Things degenerated from there. We started a card game, but when my neighbor began to lose he attempted to use puzzle pieces instead of poker chips. I almost had to order him out of his own house.
When we left, the puzzle was half done. I know it will remain on the table throughout the week. I know pieces will end up all over the house. I know the cozy cottage by the stream will forever be missing pieces of its roof, windows and yard.
That’s the way it is with puzzles. And once it is said to be finished, it will be placed in a box and never attempted again.
And yet, sometime, somewhere, the puzzle will end up at a garage sale. “Are all the pieces here?” a potential buyer will ask. And the seller will say, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they’re all in there,” knowing full well he is passing along a Big Lie, one that might damage lives.
And yet, it is too late for many. They are hooked for life.
“That was fun,” said my daughter as we walked home from the jigsaw puzzle party.
“It’s fun until someone loses an eye,” I said. “That puzzle nearly cost me a meal.”
