• 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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Now I’m Wondering If Your Love’s Still Strong

dickens_diary_1867

Found an abandoned diary, from a few years ago, abandoned after just a few pages. It started as many do, with a solemn promise to write every day. I don’t know why some diaries take and others don’t. Those few pages talked about wanting to write the Bridge Ladies book. Just my first thoughts about what it could be. That was mind blowing. The other pages were about an amazing conversation with my daughter, which I had totally forgotten. And which makes me sort of sad for failing to record so many more. I started a new diary a week ago, which is a dedicated project diary. I wonder how quickly I’ll forget all about it.

Do you love and leave your diaries, or are you loyal?

 

 

14 Responses

  1. I would feel sad about forgetting an amazing conversation, too. At the same time, I don’t know if my head has room anymore for nostalgia and survival tinged with progress (excuse me, it’s early). As to the question, I’m definitely not loyal. A few years back, I found some entries from 8th grade — collated scraps in shorthand, in case the intelligence community got hold. The notes jogged some good and not-so-good memories, just as more recent diaries/journals have, but I have more or less rejected the practice these days. I still have many lovely books that would do, and they sit unused in a box above my desk. As for the used ones, I should probably burn them but first need to figure out how to do so lawfully. I mean, we’re not even allowed to BBQ.

  2. No diaries but I keep my calenders with appointments/notations etc.for a few years…then reread and toss them!!!!

  3. I’m super loyal to the practice, though I burn the ones with incriminating content. I learned early on from Anais Nin that some diaries need restraint & editing. I’m glad I saved some. Plus, I’m a sucker for a gorgeous blank book. Over time, they beg to be filled with any kind of words, whether personal or notes or stories. I have burned some beautiful old diaries, though.

  4. Fickle as the breeze.

  5. Also, where is that photo from?

  6. I was loyal once. I had a diary growing up, from the time I was about nine years old until I was in my early 20’s – only that one little book, with major skips in timeframe, but steady, committed entries nonetheless. When I moved out of the house I was living in as I was divorcing my first husband, I somehow forgot it. I think I know now exactly where it was…in the top of a closet on a shelf in my son’s room. I think about it and wish I still had it. Dammit.

    Since then I’ve tried to journal – like I’ve heard other writers do. I have zero desire to do so. I can hardly stand the sound of my own voice when I hear it if recorded, and there’s something about writing down my own thoughts that is just as grating when I read them later.

  7. Frankly, I can’t read my own handwriting! But if I’m going to write, I need a blank white screen on Microsoft word and a keyboard with “delete” on the upper right corner. I do save emails between myself and my kids, though. I’m a sucker for preserving their greetings, thoughts, voices. Those are my treasures.

  8. I am most loyal to a diary that has chronicled many years of travel adventures. Horrific family reunions, road trips gone badly, a class reunion that reawakened several great friendships and wry observations from a cross-country train trip are faithfully detailed in an Italian leather-bound journal. The parchment-colored pages beg to carry only the most outrageous descriptions of human folly. Thankfully, my entries do not disappoint. And the pages are lined; my scrawl, at least, stays neat.

  9. “Do you love and leave your diaries, or are you loyal?”

    My entire writing project is a form of diary. A diary universe. There are galaxies, there is cosmic dust — all bodies between the extremes, too.

    There are black holes.

    This comment is a micrometeorite. Time for me to get back to work on one of the galaxies.

  10. I have at least a half a dozen beautiful , once blank books, with beginning pages filled with promise. Just like most life-projects, forgotten after dedication because I was to damn busy, tired or uncommitted.

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