This wonderful game most certainly *is* played in the USA — I’ve had lots
of e-mails from enthusiastic players.
My dad fell into Alzheimer’s in the last few months of his life (age 84-5).
It didn’t affect his cribbage game a bit. In his worst spells he didn’t
know who I was. (“Social Services have sent this very nice young chap to
play crib with me,” he remarked to his sister one day. The young chap was
me.) He still whipped me at cribbage, though.
In fact, if you enjoy cribbage but would like to taste true humiliation, go
to a traditional-style English pub and seek out the old crib players. These
guys will be at least 70, gnarled, toothless, and decrepit-looking, and will
have sunk 8-10 pints of bitter beer before 9 o’clock. And they will whip
your hide at cribbage, cackling with glee as they leave you in the lurch.