• Bridge Ladies

    Bridge Ladies Sometimes I think a meteor could strike the earth and wipe out mankind with the exception of my mother’s Bridge club — Roz, Bea, Bette, Rhoda, and Jackie — five Jewish octogenarians who continue to gather for lunch and Bridge on Mondays as they have for over fifty years. When I set out to learn about the women behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, and most of all the ragged path that led me back to my mother.
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Give Me the Beat Boys and Free My Soul

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I’m going on vacation for a week. This is the first vacation in a long time when I won’t be working on the book. Not complaining. I was happy to give every ounce of time to working on The Bridge Ladies. The truth is I’m not that good at  enjoying myself or relaxing. Having a project is like having an imaginary friend. At least that’s how I feel.

Do you have an imaginary friend?

8 Responses

  1. I not only have imaginary friends, I have imaginary enemies too. And I suspect that some of the enemies are real.

  2. My projects are my imaginary lovers. I cheat on everyone just to spend time with them. Then they stress me out and break my heart. I still go back.

  3. Always. I just let one go, and with barely a breath in between I’m onto another. I’ve got to have some excuse for that thousand mile stare I wear all day long. And that way when I’m asked what I’m thinking about, I can say, “My friend.”

  4. Plenty of projects, just a few friends, real or imagined. And it’s always good to see them.
    Have a good vacation!

  5. My imaginary friend is my alter ego. I think about her all the time. She’s doing what I wish I were doing, all of the time, which is, simply, writing. She haunts me and taunts me. She’s living the writer’s life, while I’m off, pretending to live it, dreaming of living hers.

  6. “Do you have an imaginary friend?”

    When I first read this question earlier today, I was surprised at the sadness I suddenly felt. The question brought tears to my eyes right away, and a sorrow upwelling from a place so deep within me, I thought I might burst into tears. I was at the office and I thought, No, I can’t be crying at my desk, I’m not supposed to be visiting Betsy’s website on the clock and anyway, I’ve got arbitration documents to draft. But I did wonder — I certainly did wonder — what just happened? Where did that come from?

    So I thought about it, but not much, there were things to do, you know how the day can go. Now the feeling has gone. But it was there, surprising and strong, unmistakably real.

    Do I have an imaginary friend? Yes, Dear Reader, it is you. It has always been you. That’s why we’ve been together all these years. You and me, babe — The Writer and The Reader, together in the world, through time and space. You’ve been the best friend a person could ever want to have. You’re smart, you’re patient, you’re soft-spoken and gentle, thoughtful and well-read, and you’re always there, even on the rainy days when we can’t play outside.

  7. Only you, Betsy. But I’m getting over it. Session after session. Life is long. All is well. Don’t relax too much! You might fall asleep!

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