• 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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My Love is Alive

Image result for paramount pictures

 I’ve been in publishing for thirty-three years. I feel like I’m eighteen and  wish I hadn’t partied so hard the night before taking the SATS. But my parents were out of town. What choice exactly did I have? Did I want to work in publishing? No. I wanted to run Paramount Films. I wanted to be a psychiatrist. I wanted to be a potter in Vermont and marry a quiet man. I wanted to write poems and self-destruct. I actually gave that the college try. LOL. I wanted to be in a writers’ room. I wanted to be a part of something smaller than myself. I did not want to be a hero, a victim, or a face in the crowd. I wanted to be free.

What did you want to be.

10 Responses

  1. A writer, dancer, singer, actress…

  2. A faster runner, (these days just to run period would be good) a violinist a singer, a dancer, a climber. I have more wants, but those were at the top of the list.

    I actually bought a violin and haven’t touched it in ten years or more. No time.

  3. What did I want to be? When?

    I wanted to be everything. One night when I was nineteen — Hey, nineteen, we can’t dance together, we can’t talk at all — but that night, I sat in my car, the fabled ’65 ‘Cuda, on a desert road just north of El Paso, and I smoked a joint and I thought about what I really wanted to do, to be, to get in and out of life. I was already a very minorly published poet, journalist, and photographer. I was already a father, as far as I knew. But what did I really want? I knew I wanted to be a writer and an artist. I knew I wanted to fuck — not necessarily precisely at that moment, but I was a nineteen year-old male human, which tends to be a case study in fuckerism. I knew I wanted to feel good, hence the joint I was smoking. But what did I really want?

    It came to me with the clarity, the honesty, the certainty, that the marijuana high could provide, that what I really wanted to be was God. I thought, Well, that job is already taken, and the waiting list for new hires is probably pretty long. With that realization came the liberation to be whoever the fuck it was I was and would come to be.

  4. A writer and a father.

  5. I wanted to marry my sweetheart. We met in Jo’berg South Africa. Alas, I went back to the states and he went home to Cape Town.

  6. a writer, a geologist, a violinist, an editor, a naturalist

  7. A ballerina, a singer, a doctor, a writer, a wife, a mother. I wanted to be famous (ha!), but alas a star was never born.
    Dilettante that I am, two and a half have been fulfilled, including the last two. If I could rewind I’d have thought about it longer and harder when I was young, and devoted myself entirely to one.
    However, I am thoroughly enjoying newly being a grandmother, something I never thought about, had no control over, and it’s one huge delight.

  8. I wanted to be his beloved. I wanted be able to still fit into my wedding dress 40 years later. I wanted to be recognized for two particularly worthy endeavors, but instead, was sabotaged by a rival. I’ve also wanted to be someone -anyone- else, until I learned that we all carry secrets.

  9. When I was a teenager I wanted to be a social worker, but a friend of my mother’s told me social work was frustrating and full of despair. I said “Maybe I should be a writer,” but my mother said writers have very hard lives. She was right. I’m a coward, so trying to be a professional writer when I was young would have been too risky for me. Later I wanted to be an environmental lawyer, but that didn’t work out, so I became a community organizer. Next I wanted to be a mother. I realized I needed a career that let me spend evenings with my family and days doing something constructive, so I worked in book publishing for 35 years. Now I’ve circled back to writing. It feels like a good idea now.

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