Saturday, May 12, 2012

Shanty Town

It was spring at its finest - warm, bright, refreshingly breezy - so I was surprised to see the Bridge Center so packed. I thought maybe gardening or golfing might trump cards that day. 

But when I walked in, the room was filled from the candy table all the way to shanty town. "Shanty town" is what I call the area on the far end of the room right outside the men's room. When there are a lot of players, one or two more tables are squeezed in over there in a most unpleasant manner and just inches from the bathroom door. The only thing missing from shanty town is a clothesline draped with torn undergarments.

So the game was well attended and Cindy and I were back to playing there together for the first time since winter. Our focus was laser-like, our bidding on target and we played the hands like our lives depended on it. We came in first! First out of all those players! We got 62.30% and 1.87 points. 

I was so proud of us the glow stayed with me all afternoon and evening. That night I was watching a movie in which the main character said a line that threatened to douse it. He said:

"A man learns nothing from winning. The act of losing however, elicits much wisdom."

I pooh-poohed that nonsense until the following week when we didn't even get on the board. It was then I saw the sagacity in those words and I was glowing again - this time with wisdom. 








Tuesday, May 1, 2012

I Play Bridge, Therefore I Am?

       It was bittersweet, I'll admit. I was leaving the land of palm trees and azaleas but was returning home to redbuds and tulips. Behind me were Posey, Ducky and Jaz but ahead were normal named people like Cindy, Joan and Barb.

       My first Tuesday back found me at Woodstock. The club looked beautiful -  floors and furniture polished and gleaming,  vases filled with spring flowers.

       On my way to the card room, a friend called to me.  He's a member there and was meeting someone on business.

       "So what brings you to Woodstock?" he asked.
       "Bridge."
       "What?"
       "I'm here to play bridge."
       "Bridge? Are you serious? You're playing bridge?"
        I nodded.
       "Wow," he said staring at me in disbelief. "You've really sold out."

       I immediately went into defense mode. "What?? What do you mean? Bridge is fun and it's really challenging and - and I bet you can't even play. Try it, just try it sometime. It's hard..." I was beginning to babble so I turned from my accuser feeling like a four-year old who'd been told her mother wore army boots and continued on into the card room.

       The truth is he hit a nerve. Had I sold out? Have I spent too much time at a card table and not enough at something more productive? When I'm on my death bed will I look back and regret not devoting more of my life to loftier goals?

       I decided to take comfort in the words of author Kurt Vonnegut, who hailed from my hometown. He said something like, "I swear we are on earth to fart around and don't let anyone tell you different."

     So there.