And one of the most gratifying things (for me) about that Wall Street Journal article on Leap Day were the e-mails that came my way. I have permission of Adrienne to quote her account of a party the article inspired.
“I read with interest the article about you in the Wall Street Journal which appeared on February 29th, and promptly forwarded it to my bridge-playing friends. There are a number of us who play several times a week thanks to a teacher, the late Peggy Reich, who held classes at our country club that began about 15 years ago. Peggy not only gave us the gift of bridge, she gave us the gift of each other. Some of us play competitively, others don’t, but for all of us the social aspect remains paramount.
After reading the WSJ article, one of my friends, Lee Harp, decided on the spot that we were to have a 1950’s-style bridge luncheon at my house, and invite the people who regularly play and substitute in our games. With Lee’s help,and that of another friend, Susan McCarthy, we pulled it off.
Twenty of us met on Monday, March 26th, attired in hats, gloves, pearls, skirts, and stockings. Two people even brought out their ancient mink stoles from the backs of their closets. We nibbled on cucumber sandwiches with our iced tea before dining on chicken ala king, tomato aspic, peas with onions and cream puffs–all made from scratch. (Well, almost all. I cheated on the cream puff filling by using Bird’s English Dessert mix with whipped cream folded into it.)
After lunch, we rotated among five tables for a total of twenty hands of bridge. I’m attaching a photograph that we took before lunch was served, and hope you enjoy seeing us in our finery!
Thank you so very much for inspiring a wonderful afternoon.”
Next week I’m going to quote from Adrienne’s insightful response, when I asked her for details about what kind of bridge all these ladies played, their demographics things like that. Adrienne has the cure–really!–for mean and nasty bridge players, the kind who continue to turn off wide-eyed enthusiastic bridge newcomers before they can get turned on.