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.
Today was my birthday and if you’re a writer you know what that means. Misery. Never enough attention. Want to be alone. Disgusted with lack of output. Disgusted with attitude. Inured to good wishes. Lonely when surrounded by friends. Hopeless. Speeches to self. Recriminations. Regret tinged with fear. Bad hair. Bad skin. Rage against the machine, the body. No candles. No cake. No let up.
What’s your one wish?
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Betsy Lerner 
Funny, I was just thinking about the fact that I haven’t had a birthday cake in probably 25 years. Not that I need another slice of cake…
Happy birthday, Betsy! Thank you for being such a fabulous you, and for helping so many of us learn to be OK with who we are, too–as writers and as crazy kindred spirits.
NO CAKE?!?!?!
Seriously Betsy. You need cake or at least a cupcake or ice cream. Something fun to eat, purchased in secret, by yourself. That’s what I do on the dreaded day.
World peace is my wish, and I really mean it today.
That’s a perfect wish, November. And yes, we need it.
You need to celebrate birthday month with more Leos. Next year, come-on down to NOLA. We will have a great time.
Happy Birthday!
Take comfort in the small victories
My one wish is that you breathe. Know that your words resonated —
they Touched another human being, and that is enough to satisfy your existence–nothing more.
Peace on earth, good will towards men. Happy heat induced knowledge, Betsy! I hope you heat the place up and induce more knowledge as you heat the place up and create more time for us writerly types to occupy. I feel better having fallen somehow into your sphere. God help me.
Happy Birthday. Enjoy!!
Sent from my iPhone
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My one wish?
It has to do with politics. F that. It’s too depressing.
Birthday celebrations are overrated. The best part? Not dead yet.
“What’s your one wish?”
To get rid of what’s going on inside me.
To finish the motherfucking book
Betsy, you’ve created a beautiful haven for us zany writers and I love hanging out here mornings, cup of coffee in hand.
My one (just one?) wish is always the same, but I can’t divulge or it clearly won’t come true. (Or not.) But I do wish you a very Happy Birthday, regrets be damned, honor thyself.
Happy Birthday!
Each day is a gift.
For you, Betsy, I wish a moment of tranquility.
As for me, every day I wish to be a better man than the day before. Some days it works.
“What’s your one wish?”
Forgiveness.