When I set out to learn about my mother's bridge club, the Jewish octogenarians behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, their gen, and the ragged path that led me back to my mother.
Rooty toot toot rooty toot toot we are the men of the institute. Congrats to all the National Book Award Winners 2016. And to the villages that raised them. To those who prepared speeches and those afraid to jinx themselves. TO the hives running down your neck. To hoping that this is your gold night, your velvet dress. To every moment that tipped your way. To getting out of your panty hose and unhooking your bra. I don’t buy it, not tonight, you are beautiful.
Who would you thank?
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Betsy Lerner 
Mother God.
The teachers who told me I could write
Yes, to what jodycarr said because it would certainly be something of a miracle, in my case.
“Who would you thank?”
The usual suspects.
Steve Weinberg, for his profound investigator’s response to the story of a fourteen-year-old raped and abused in a corrupt facility. Ellen Meister for her professional advice and unwavering certainty about the writing. Kate Hymes and the women of wVw, for the living room where my voice awoke. Nina Shengold and and Laura Shaine Cunningham for believing in my plays and seeing them staged. Deborah Kaufman and my three ferocious daughters, who moved heaven and earth when both were lost to me. And most of all to my grandmother Nana, the oasis of my childhood, her life of books and art and quiet patience, whose loving kindness made me a good father, and a writer.
My wife, my daughter and the woods, mountains, lakes, trails and streams where I live, work and breathe.
And thank you California, Maine, Massachusetts and Nevada for helping along the way to nationwide legality.
I’d like to thank the academy; my wonderful director — beargirl — without whom I’d wander the house endlessly looking for my glasses; Lou the foxhound without whose weak bladder I might have slept through nights instead of postulating the great plot twists of our time. And Meryl … who has been so gracious time and time again …oh, there’s the music. But I’m not …… done ………yet ..