How Mah-Jongg Changed My Life at 75

The 19th-century game taught me that it’s never too late to learn new skills or make new friends

Joanne Cole,

AARP

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Published February 18, 2026

four hands reach for mahjongg tiles in the shape of a heart

Monica Garwood

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At 75, I found my people. Sure, I had belonged to other like-minded groups before: sorority sisters, bridge friends, fellow lovers of architecture.

But this was different. This was mah-jongg at a local synagogue. It was my entry not only into a world of skill and weekly fun, but also into a deeply meaningful community I could rely on as I got older.

Mind you, I had never heard of mah-jongg until I turned 65 and went to my 50-year high school reunion. I ran into a friend from 11th grade who was living in Manhattan and she took me to see Crazy Rich Asians. For those unfamiliar with the film, it includes a scene near the end that takes place in a traditional mah-jongg parlor in Singapore. Just watching the game and hearing the clacking of the ivory tiles was relaxing.

Fast-forward 10 years, and a friend told me she was playing mah-jongg every week at the Brotherhood Synagogue. The idea of a parlor game played on a regular basis got my attention. I wasn’t a member of the synagogue, but I had visited once or twice and walked past it many times.

I signed up for a six-week beginner’s course and took to mah-jongg like a duck to water. I loved the touch and sound of the tiles. I liked knowing that this game of luck and strategy has been played in China since the mid-1800s.

I began playing every Wednesday night for two hours. It took a bit of time to learn the game well enough to “make mah-jongg,” but I kept at it. I practiced online daily. I woke up every morning, opened my iPad (kept next to the coffee maker) and tried to master the game using the Real Mah Jongg app. No easy feat. The goal of American mah-jongg is to have 13 tiles that match the 60-odd possibilities on that year’s National Mah Jongg League card. Because the card changes every year, my brain was in constant learning mode.

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Once mah-jongg became a part of my schedule, I saw the inherent value of having a weekly game to look forward to. The synagogue was only five blocks away from my home, making it easy for me to get to. So, rain or shine, I had no excuses. I also found that a two-hour parlor game is punctuated by laughter and just enough conversation to make it social.

In the beginning of my mah-jongg journey, I was a “floater.” Each week I sat at a different table with different players. Eventually I was invited to sit with three women on a regular basis. These women are either my age or a bit older. We all get along and we support one another. If I need the name of a dentist, I get three options. If I have a medical issue, there is support, understanding and empathy. Because women of a certain age gravitate to local activities, we all live within walking distance of each other. Living close by makes it easy to play “home games” — or to drop off chicken soup if one of us is under the weather.

I saw right away that our marital and living situations are a microcosm of women over 70. I am divorced and live alone. Another woman is married and lives with her husband. Another is unmarried and lives with a life partner. The fourth is a recent widow who lives alone. Despite our differences, we are all as close as peas in a pod and have made mah-jongg a constant and consistent part of our lives. And as a Jewish girl who was raised Catholic, I found myself connecting to my heritage in a surprising way.

I also found that mah-jongg serves as a metaphor for life. In mah-jongg, you don’t win or lose. You either “make mah-jongg” or you don’t. Counting wins and losses with friends only serves to stifle a close relationship. As one of my friends at the table is fond of saying, “It’s only a game.” A game that can transform your life.

AARP essays share a point of view in the author’s voice, drawn from expertise or experience, and do not necessarily reflect the views of AARP.

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Joanne Cole is a publicist and pioneer e-journalist who covered entrepreneurs and start-ups for fortune.com. She ghostwrote CEO columns for Reuters Global and received a national Emmy nomination for writing and producing the first TV spot on missing children.