It changed, of course. Just like everything else. Jess and Nick are a little alarmed when they hear that their son has been teaching True American to the elementary school playground, but then they realize it's with juiceboxes and a lot more cartwheels, and they let it go. He makes most of his friends that way, and all his shyness and nervousness around crowds seems to fade away instantly when he's yelling out "One, two three, JFK!"

Ruth teaches it to her classmates when they're probably just a little too young to be playing drinking games, but Cece knows it's less about the alcohol than it is about the ability to just play, removed from the awkwardness of trying to seem grown-up.

They all take True American and make their own rules with it. And it's okay for it to change, Jess is reminded, as they sit on the porch with beers, their grandkids chasing each other in the garden. Ruth's husband is grilling burgers, and Winston's twins are setting the table, and her own baby -- now in his twenties -- is trying not to roll his eyes at his father's clearly misguided health advice. When Jess and her friends play it, these days, it's more of a sitting-down game with some cards thrown in the mix -- but just as much yelling. Some things change, but the important stuff will always stay the same.