Happy New Year! I know that's a bit belated. But I haven't gotten into 2013 yet. I'm still stuck in the past.
My mother's was the first bridge party I ever attended. The gatherings started when I was in second grade and once a month she had her bridge group over. A card table was set up in the middle of the living room and in the dining room were lots of goodies, but best of all were brownies cut up in small bites with powdered sugar on top.
She was never good at bridge but she liked her bridge group. She once told me, "You should learn to play bridge because when you get older you'll always have something to do." Then one day it was over. After decades of bridge group, they were finally all gone, except my mom.
In her mid eighties she attempted to play again, taking lessons with me at the Bridge Center. It was a new kind of bridge and she never caught on. She would go over to Marquette Manor, a senior living facility, once in awhile and sub for a group there who played the old fashioned way.
One day they needed two subs and she called me. We were to be partners and play with her friends Keith and Alice. At a nursing home. I didn't want to go, but I did.
The room was hot and cramped and mom and I didn't bid the same way so we couldn't get to the right games. My partner and my opponents all had hearing issues so no one could hear anyone else (no bidding cards). Every hand I had to repeat what each person said. Keith served extra salty nuts and the only water was warm from the tap. It was torture.
Alice and Keith are gone and now my mother is at Marquette Manor. But she's not playing bridge. She's a hospice patient and I would give anything to be back in that hot room, eating extra salty nuts and playing bad bridge with her again.