Our Origins

How Mountain Mahjong Began

Funny enough, Mountain Mahjong started because my husband volunteered me for something I never asked to do.

Years ago, my husband was teaching golf in a private community when one of his students, a woman from Taiwan, mentioned she was looking for a fourth player for a mahjong group she wanted to start. Without asking me first, he told her I would probably love it.

At the time, I was busy. I worked full-time, helped run our family farm business, and spent most of my free time shuttling our boys from one activity to the next. The last thing I wanted was another commitment. Besides, I thought mahjong was just that tile-matching game people played on their phones. Why would anyone need lessons?

Still, I showed up.

That first evening changed everything.

I quickly discovered that mahjong was much more than I expected. There was history, strategy, tradition, and just enough luck to keep every game interesting. At the end of the night, our teacher asked, "When should we meet again?" I remember being surprised. I thought this was a one-time class. Instead, we agreed to get together again in two weeks.

Then two weeks became months.

Months became years.

For more than eight years, our little group gathered every other week around a mahjong table. We came from different backgrounds, different beliefs, different life experiences, and different generations. What started as a game slowly became something much more meaningful. We celebrated victories, supported one another through challenges, and built friendships that extended far beyond mahjong nights.

Eventually, life began to change our group. One member moved away. Another stepped back after receiving an Alzheimer's diagnosis. Suddenly, our table was getting harder and harder to fill.

I wasn't ready to stop playing.

By then, I had taught a few community education classes and met others who were eager to learn. What started as a simple effort to keep a game going turned into an idea: what if we created a larger community where there would always be enough people to play?

That idea became Mountain Mahjong.

In the beginning, we gathered in living rooms and hoped enough people would show up to fill two tables. Then a local bookstore invited me to start teaching classes. Those classes grew, new players joined, and word slowly spread.

Today, Mountain Mahjong has grown far beyond anything I imagined. What began as a way to save one small game night has become a community of more than 50 members. We regularly fill multiple tables, welcome new players every month, and continue to grow.

But the thing I'm most proud of isn't the number of players.

It's the friendships.

I've watched people who were complete strangers become close friends. I've seen members find connection after moving to the area, entering a new stage of life, or simply looking for something that felt like home. Mahjong may bring people to the table, but it's the community that keeps them coming back.

My hope for Mountain Mahjong is simple: to continue creating a welcoming place where people can learn, play, laugh, and connect. A place where everyone has a seat at the table.

After all, that's what this has really been about from the very beginning.