June 13-14 – I’m not sure any other stop provided a bigger mood swing than Reno.

I enjoyed the extreme high of winning $1,000 with four 8’s playing Let it Ride poker in a late-night effort to let Kirsti get some much-needed sleep.

And I also learned of the passing of a very influential person in my life that quickly erased the joy.

We rolled into Reno late in the evening after the second eight-hour driving day in a row. Thankfully, when you enter a place like Reno, you get an adrenaline pop from the glitz.

We checked into the pretty inexpensive Circus Circus hotel casino, went for a walk around the city, grabbed a bite to eat and gambled a little together playing roulette and some slots.

We aren’t big gamblers, mostly because I was raised in a house where you save and don’t waste money. I’m perfectly content with $1 on a horse at a race track, or playing blackjack at a $3 minimum table. You don’t win as much, but you can play for a long time on minimal money.

The drinks were flowing and we were getting quite lucky, especially picking numbers on roulette.

 It was probably another terrible lesson for Kirsti, because we hit specific numbers twice in the first five spins of the wheel. I played 5 for my birthday and hit for $51 and then played 27, my mother’s birthday and Red Sox legend Carlton Fisk’s number, and that hit too! We left the table up about $80.

We played some slots too. Before long though, Kirsti was cooked. The sleep issue that plagued her on this trip, coupled with drinks and coming off the highs of winning, had her dragging.

I wanted her to be able to sleep – especially since unlike in some of the Airbnbs where we had separate rooms, this was your basic hotel room with two beds. Instead of also climbing into my bed when she was crashing, I decided I’d go back out for a while and play some cards, hopefully to win some money and allow her to get to sleep before my snoring started.

I went downstairs to Circus Circus, only to remember it didn’t have table games. So I went outside to another nearby casino and the Let It Ride tables were full.

I almost said screw it and headed back to the hotel bed, but decided I’d make one more stop at the El Dorado.

There was an open seat at a Let It Ride table and I took it.

I don’t remember how many hands I played before it happened, but it wasn’t more than 10.

To back up, Let It Ride, for those unfamiliar, is a five-card poker hand with players getting three cards down.

You need 10s or better to have a winning hand. You have three bets out of the same amount – usually $10 minimum for each – so you have a $30 bet. If you have 10s or better in your hand, you have already won.

If not, you have the option of pulling back a third of the bet, $10.

Then the dealer shows a card you can use. If it didn’t help you get 10s or better, you can pull back another $10.

The dealer then shows a second card you can use. If it doesn’t help your hand, you lose $10. There are also bonus bet options that pay you more.

I hadn’t won anything since I sat down so when I got a pair of 8s, I chose to take one of my $10 bets back.

Then the dealer flipped another 8.

I now have three 8s and a winning hand so, obviously I left the $20 bet.

Then he flipped another one!

I had four of a kind!

I knew it was good, but I wasn’t sure how good. Then the guy next to me said I won $1,000 between the $20 I left up and the bonus bet.

I won $700 once playing poker in New Jersey, but it was a long time ago and this just seemed way better. I was elated. I had no one to really share my jubilation with, in part because the people at the table were undoubtedly more jealous than happy for me.

I played a little longer and gave back some of the money I won. I played a couple of slot machines too, mostly to make sure Kirsti was asleep when I returned. I took a picture of the chips in my hand in the casino and another of the fanned out $100-bills back in the hotel bathroom before bedding down with a monster smile on my face and Kirsti fast asleep in the bed next to me.

The next morning, as Kirsti still slept and as I headed back to the casino to lose some of my winnings and get a coffee, I learned that the earth had lost an angel in the form of Matt Congdon, longtime director of the Glens Falls (N.Y.) Area Youth Center, who did more to shepherd wayward area youth than anyone else I know. His daughter Molly contacted me that morning, saying she knew we had a bond, and she wanted me to know he’d passed.

“Dave, I just wanted to let you know that my dad passed away last night. Thank you for all your support throughout the years. I will let you know the funeral arrangements soon.”

I wrote back to her how sorry I was and how the world “just lost arguably the kindest man I have ever known. But our loss is heaven’s gain.” I told her I was in Reno on a long trip with my daughter and that if I didn’t make it home for the funeral that she should know I’m there in spirit. I also told her few people had an influence on my life as great as her dad.   

Matt had previously lost his legs to diabetes. He’d had open heart surgery. His body, ravaged from the disease since youth, had simply given out.

I got teary and reflective about our bond, which was a weird one.

Since meeting Matt, I always felt the need to help him help these kids. From the first visit to a cramped, not-terribly nice center on Warren Street, I could almost sense an aura around him. I loved how these kids looked up to him, respected him and adhered to his rules.

I would write stories about the center, its needs, and his dreams for a new facility with a  gym. He loved basketball and a gym would provide needed physical activity for the kids – and a hoops fix for him!

Soon, a local doctor came forth with a $1 million donation, the center was a reality and he would frequently credit me with helping get it done, praise that I deflected and felt odd at even hearing.

He built the center — period. I just tried to spread the word of his tireless efforts on behalf of local kids too often forgotten.

I thought about our bond that morning while fighting back tears on a casino floor.

I can’t say we were great friends. I’d call Matt a friend for sure, and I loved when he’d come and see Kirsti play music at Glens Falls area venues.

But we’d go long stretches without communicating and I think we were basically bonded by the Youth Center kids.

So, the morning after the big win, was weird.

And sad.

And it led to a really long day headed to San Francisco that would see me have a colossal, embarrassing meltdown of epic proportions.