• Bridge Ladies

    Bridge Ladies 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.
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I Caught You Knocking at My Cellar Door

People keep asking me if I’ve gotten vaccinated. Do I look like I’m 70? Jesus H. I’m sixty, people, but still a child at heart. Still I child in so many ways. Or perhaps more accurately, childish. Or immature. Or let’s just say it: obnoxious. So now, here we are, the sixty-somethings are teed-up for the vac. Where’s my AARP card? Where’s my Depends? Where’s by senior citizen discount. Arm, meet needle. Here is my fear. My fear is that having been at home for 11 months that I have a little Stockholm Syndrome mixed with my natural desire to say in my office at my desk staring at a screen that is destroying my one good eye. I was afraid of dinner parties before now. I don’t like to socialize. I’m happiest on my two hour train ride into NYC and I’m not doing that for a while. I’m happiest in a movie and until they make a mask where you can shove popcorn into your face, that isn’t happening. I will get vaccinated, but I wonder if I’ll be able to step outside.

Did you get it?

11 Responses

  1. Here in The Dumbshine State, wearing a mask or not is often a political act. I wear one, and get the second one tonight, by way of geezerhood.

  2. Alas, I’m one of those hyper-allergic folk. I was advised to wait at least a year before getting this vax, since Big Pharma is still tweaking the recipes. Meanwhile, the Krewe de Jeanne d’Arc has made “plague bracelets” as both a fundraising effort and a nod to the supplication “St. Joan will provide”. I’m picking up mine, today.

  3. I’m getting the vaccine when my age group is up for it. I’m five years away for my state. Between friends retiring, relatives dying, and the COVID vaccine talk, I’ve never been so aware of time passing and my relative age as I am now. It’s terrifying and liberating at the same time.

  4. Ooh, ooh, the damage done…

  5. I’m 79 and a half. I’ve been vaccinated. I’m still afraid to go out.

  6. Got 1 scheduled for 2.
    I have only worn makeup twice in the last year. It was when I had my teeth cleaned, as if the hygienist noticed my crappy complexion as opposed to coffee stains and plaque.

  7. God, I miss movie popcorn. So buttery, so salty! I even miss the way you have to munch more gently during the quiet parts of the movie so as not to disturb your neighbors. I miss the whole thing—everyone gasping and laughing at the same time, and the jump scares, and the way the audience sometimes claps at the end as if the actors somehow could hear it. I hope the studios are saving something really good for when we all bust out of our houses. I hope Stanley Tucci’s got something. And Daniel Kaluuya. And Rooney Mara. Oh, and Tom Hardy, using that swooney accent from Lawless!

    Sorry, what was the question again?

  8. I got it. I am relieved. Not going anywhere soon. Both things can be true.

  9. One of the things I hate most is being called “sir.” I know it’s a sign of respect (unless it’s delivered as a kind of sneer), but I’d much rather be called “man” or else by my name. Sir. Sounds old. But then again when I look in the mirror and see this old man looking back or go out for a ski and feel very sore afterwards, I think, ah, getting old is not for the faint of heart.

    I haven’t got the shot yet, but I will. As the above paragraph indicates, this old man is eligible.

    I don’t know when things will go back to normal, but hopefully we’ll fully appreciate being able to eat in a restaurant again, go to the movies or sit in the stands at Yankee Stadium and not see a cardboard person or full size bobblehead down in the mezzanine.

  10. I am not yet old enough to get shot up. If I prefer getting shot down, there are several neighborhoods I could wander into hereabouts to make that nightmare come true. Or I could wear a BLM t-shirt downstate, or when I go visit my mom in Texas.

    Don’t worry, she’s fine, for an 88 YO. She lives in that western corner of Texas that is off the Texas grid and didn’t lose power when the bulk of the state harvested the cold crop of seceding from reality and common sense.

    But when may I visit her again? Gotta get shot up first. Doesn’t look like that’s going to happen before June. She’s supposed to have got her first shot yesterday. At some point over the coming weekend, I will remember to be a good son long enough to call her and see how she is.

    The world we were accustomed to is not going to return. That’s not entirely a bad thing.

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