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.We are living on the edge. We are riding on the rails. The nails are loose. The roof blew. How can you run when you know? I was a Watergate baby. Deep throat and wire taps. The spiders from Mars. Last tango. So moist and creamy. Four dead in Ohio. Revenge is a dish that tastes best when served cold. The world he left behind not so long ago. I bet you squeal like a pig. Here’s the story of a lovely lady. I like the moment I break a man’s ego. The lovers cried and the poets dreamed. Not a word was spoken the church bells all were broken.
Got any favorite 1970’s references?
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Betsy Lerner 
Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.
You’e never gonna do it without your fez on.
In a Donna Tartt novel (The Secret History) a character tells us that when people are going through turmoil they spend days listening to old hippie music. There’s some truth to that.
One of my favorite soothing peace-and-love songs came out a little before the seventies.
Love is but a song we sing, fear’s the way we die
You can make the mountains ring, or make the angels cry
All the President’s Men; The Best and the Brightest; the helicopters on the roof of the American Embassy; Nixon’s resignation, Robert McNamara and the Vietnam morass.
Can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sesame Street?
Gauchos. 280-Z. The chicken’s got a certain… Someone left the cake out in the rain. (Thanks, Betsy. Stay well.)
Kids say the darndest things. Plop, plop, fizz, fizz – oh what a relief it is. Strong enough for a man but made for a woman. Just the facts, mam.
Could it be a faded rose from days gone by? Bye, bye Miss American Pie, where’s the beef, love means never having to say you’re sorry, Meathead, dead from the neck up.
I was taking a trip out to LA. Tooling along in my Chevrolet. Take a long holiday. Let your children play. Girl you gotta love your man. There’s a stranger by the road. So your brother’s bound and gagged. All of the ladies attending the ball were requested. A church house. Gin house. School house. Outhouse. Salt pork and molasses is all you get in jail. Shit! Goddamn! Get off your ass and jam! I’m not Lisa. The hand of fate is heavy now. It pick you up and knock you down. She came from Planet Claire. Everybody’s got a secret, son. Lives on the line where dreams are found and lost. There’s a darkness on the edge of town. Because the night belongs to lovers. Poor man wanna be rich — rich man wanna be king — and a king ain’t satisfied till he rules everything. Went out walking through the woods the other day. It seemed about a hundred years ago.
Who loves you, baby?
Everybody look what’s goin down.
Keep your filthy paws off my silky drawers. Would you pull that crap with Annette?
Oh…never mind.
It wasn’t a bullet that laid him to rest it was the low spark of high heeled boys
“The reactor is stable.”
Maybe not.
I would like to feed your fingertips to the wolverines
Hey! This is my sissie! Welcome to the nuthouse.
Don’t blame me. I’m from Massachusetts. (1972 bumper sticker)