Bridge was never my forte. Oh, I knew how to kibitz my way through a game but I was never asked back. I was unable to remember what was being played and by whom. And of course, my partner brooked no sympathy for my lack of memory. The game of bridge had not entered my mind for a long time until recently.
I sometimes go to a small coffee shop near me. It is usually frequented by business and professional people on their way to work and by students or retirees reading or working at computers. Some stay longer then others but each has his/her chosen table. A few weeks ago, a group of women came in and sat down at a table marked, "RESERVED 9am to 11am." I was curious and asked them who they were.
They told me they were a group of eight women from different sections of the city who play bridge at the coffee shop once a week. "It saves, cooking, serving and cleaning up afterward." They met while working out and decided to keep their "synapses sharp." Two are still working part time while the others are retired from the fields of professional health care, teaching and retail. They wanted me to know, "this is not your grandmother's bridge." Each held plasticized "cheat cards" which listed the game's new rules. Their oversized cards were dealt and held by strong hands.
I stayed with them through one hand, watching one player bid a no-nonsense 5 of diamonds. Unfortunately, she went down a trick with a flourish. This was no place for a kibitzer so I left.
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