May 9, 2015
When bloggers quit blogging for weeks on end, as I have here at Bridge Table, it’s usually because they simply weary of it. For me, it’s also a case of low expectations for nonagenarians. If I beg off from loafing at the pool “to work” response is “What work, Maggy? You’re 95 for god’s sake.”
I have to not only create ongoing expectations for myself, but also motivate myself each day to work at them. Not that I’m complaining! At 95, I have an enviable life–far better than I ever expected. But then who expects to live to 95? Not me.
I offer this bit of wisdom to all of you out there much younger than me. Everyone tells you, it’s later than you think so carpe diem–sieze the day–and that’s true. In this millennium, however, I say you may live far longer than you expect. Are you ready for that?
I’m not sure I ever was–just kind of drifted into the remarkable age of 95–quite fit, pain-free (unless I sit too long at the computer), and with a circle of bridge-playing friends I enjoy every week. I don’t drive or do housework anymore (instructions from my physical therapist daughter who believes housework is dangerous when you have osteoporosis). I never was good at cleaning house anyway, but I do miss driving.
Reaching 80 was once my goal — born in 1920, that would mean living to 2000. Seemed like a nice round number to end one’s life. Didn’t happen! In my case, I barely noticed that key birthday–had a wonderful birthday party in Florida where I was spending a month in Cocoa Beach.
Back home in New Hampshire by April 2000, I just picked up where I left off, enjoying life and dabbling in research for the book about sociable bridge I had been intending to write for a couple decades. Moved to Florida in 2003, celebrated 85th birthday in 2005 — still no book written.
Not until around 2007 did I get a bit edgy about time fleeting — resolved to write that damned bridge book before I turned 90 and actually did do that in 2009. One of few deadlines I’ve set and met in my long procrastinating life.
At least now, Bridge Table or What’s Trump Anyway? and this blog and its archives will survive out there in the Internet somewhere should somebody pick up my “cause” — the survival of sociable bridge — after I’m gone.
How’s my “cause” doing? Well, that’s one of the mysteries of bridge — you can only actually count serious players, but the ACBL invariably claims statistics that obviously inlude sociable players.
Moving to Florida, I no longer believe, as I used to, that sociable bridge would die with those of us who learned to play in the 50s and 60s. Here, however, in the land of early retirement, it’s clear that enough women took up sociable bridge through the 1970s so that the game should survive at least one more decade, maybe two.
No thanks to the ACBL! But that’s a topic for a separate blog.