He taught me to play by first winning and then showing me either my bad moves or his smart ones. It was difficult to grasp the concept of planning my moves and anticipating his, but eventually I came to understand. He died when I was twelve but by that time he had taught me quite well. I don't think I ever won a game with Papa, but that didn't seem to matter.
Checker board quilts, you ask? Well, you know it!
Here's hoping that your childhood memories of playing games includes a loving grandfather who was willing to teach you to be a better player. (And maybe a win or two.)