Bridge

There’s not much to do living in a remote area but surprisingly there is always a bridge game being planned.    Everyone tries to make it easy.  “Bring a sandwich.  I’ll furnish dessert and drinks.”  Coffee and tea are the staples.   I love the challenge of a good bridge game, the challenge being against myself, how well I play the hand that is dealt.  I can’t remember when I learned to play bridge.  In my family there was always a domino or card game when visiting took place.  As a child wandering among the adults, there was always the risk of filling in a seat.  If there was a player needed one of us children would be drafted and gently and kindly led through the game.  I suppose that’s how we all learned to play bridge.  Mother and Daddy played bridge.  I didn’t play bridge in college, I was too busy studying.  My mother was 89 when she died and she could still outplay my brothers and me, correcting us when we misplayed.  In many ways, life can be likened to a card game or any game for that matter.  I can only wish that I might draw the highest card in the deck so that I wouldn’t ever have to draw again, but then I might miss the playing of the game.