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..
My life’s battle has been to put my work first. So yesterday, DAY 2, was a revelation in that I actually have a half hour and I can actually make some progress. Okay, don’t get excited. It’s only the second day. But I feel all of you with me. And I also feel I can’t let you down. Basically, I’m your bitch.
Please put the last line of what you wrote yesterday in the comments.
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Betsy Lerner 
“C’mon cone head,” I said. “Let’s go home.”
There was no sign of Rosemary.
But it’s true we were paperboys, in a world that didn’t so much vanish as evaporate away under the heat and pressure of time.
!!!
Still the best writer I know. I would give my left nut to be able to do whatever the fuck this is. Me, I’m all tricks and voice. But you, Tetman, are solid brick all the way through. I hope someday to read the whole thing this true sentence is from.
I’m starting today but these last lines are inspiring me to write.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but I loved to run.
Last line:
This is what I do. Ignore it. Bury it. Swallow it, like a bad pill.
Last Last line:
Ah, Siri, you have shaken me to the core with your dang ring.
I am lingering in the basic and beginner.
“From the obit in the newspaper I learned that my father died and from the framed picture I figured I was being told that my brother was going to help me.”
(BTW boys and girls I screwed up my knee, again, so I’m writing standing up. It’s a challenge for sure.)
Like the other little hurts she had inadvertently collected, this was yet one more to add to the assortment.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Betsy, what’s yours? Don’t make us skinny dip alone!
Far worse, people she proclaimed to love just hours ago, she now loathed.
Just did today’s 30 minutes (I’m west coast now, California). Went right to it. Waited eagerly for Alexa to tell me I’d done my 30, like push-ups.
Only connect. Good ‘ole E.M. Forster knew what he was talking about, huh?
His drinking should never have become her problem, but of course it had.
Another sister to love.
Another daughter to raise. Another sister to love.
Sorry for the double…I was in a hurry this morning trying to get to my granddaughter’s Character Day parade. That little girl is my heart!
When the burger was gone, Sara got out the bottled water and poured some over the dog’s mouth.
You lose yourself, Bob Dylan once said. Then you reappear.
He was still sober enough to know he was too drunk to drive, drunk enough that he just might try it anyway, but smart enough to toss the Camino’s keys to Frankie.
I love all these last lines!
I’m starting in November but i love all you who jumped right in.
Sheila made gentle straight cuts at each instruction from Mr. Carson.
Sheila cut gentle straight lines with each instruction from Mr. Carson.
Sorry – technologically challenged.
Last dialogue 10/28:
“Mom, I can’t stay here in this cell. There’s some drunk over in the corner who’s pissed his pants. And a half-dressed redhead’s snoring on the cot.
Silence.
“Mom, are you there?”
Click. I hung up.
All Rose says is, “Oy!”
She liked not being the alpha, but there’s a downside. There always is.
We used to hold and caress her on every visit, so the year long ban of visitations due to COVID was vary hard to take (for her and for us).
I can do so little—the proverbial drop of water in a vast sea—
but I fetch and toss the little invertebrates with great hope, small beings I can try to save in a lifetime of watching death win again and again.