Young at Hearts

… and Clubs, Diamonds, and Spades

The following joke was making the rounds on the internet recently; it reminded me of my grandmother and her friends. But probably not for the reasons you think.

A group of 40-year-old women, girlfriends from grade school, discussed where they should meet for lunch. Finally, they agreed on the Ocean View restaurant because the waiters there had tight pants and nice buns.

Ten years later, celebrating their 50th birthdays, the group again discussed the best meeting place. Finally, they agreed on the Ocean View restaurant because the food there was very good, the wine selection was excellent, and the waiters were cute.

For their 60th birthday get-together, the group once again discussed the best place for lunch. Finally, they agreed on the Ocean View restaurant because the place was quiet, it had a beautiful view of the ocean, and the waiters were sweet boys.

Ten years later, celebrating 70, the women once again planned their reunion. Finally, they agreed to meet at the Ocean View restaurant because the restaurant was wheelchair accessible (it had a ramp and an elevator), and the waiters were kindly.

For their 80th birthday reunion, the ladies once again discussed a desirable meeting place for lunch. Finally, they agreed to meet at the Ocean View restaurant because they had never been there before.

My grandmother has friends with whom she has lunch. They discuss the food. They use the elevators. They enjoy nice views. But when my grandmother and her friends were in their 80s, they did not forget where they had eaten. Now in their 90s, they are still getting together to eat … and to play bridge! Every week.

Early in the day the hostess prepares lunch. She sets the table with linen, china, and silver. She sets out the cards. At noon, the other ladies arrive. They comment on how beautiful lunch is and how they can never eat so much. They catch each other up on the week’s gossip. They say they can’t possibly eat dessert. But they do.

At one o’clock they move to the card table. Party Bridge. Four hands to a round. Three rounds, one each with a different partner. A snack on the table. At four o’clock the cards go back in their boxes; the ladies go back to their homes. Eat. Play. Repeat. For sixty years!

You see, my grandmother, Ruth Goldman Kleinman, is an original member of a weekly bridge game that started in 1950. Sixty years later, at 98, she is still an active player. I joined the ladies for lunch a few weeks ago, just to get a glimpse of the famous game. Much has remained the same over the years – lunch is beautifully presented and plentiful. The dessert I swore I wouldn’t eat was delicious. But, they tell me, much has changed.

The game went from eight women to four women. Only two of the original eight are still living: my grandmother and her friend Ruth Lipsky, who is 95. Sarah Zall died first, followed by Ceil Katzen, Gladys Brodsky, Thelma Foxman, Fay Bernstein, and Bess Miller. While not original members, Ruth Rosoff Paley, 97, and Nida Bernstein, 90, joined many years ago. (A substitute -- in her mere 70’s -- played for Ruth Paley the day I was there.)

The game moved from Thursdays to Saturdays. At one time all the ladies were married and their husbands worked during the week. A Thursday game was ladies’ time; the weekend was family time. The men have all passed away. The ladies play on Saturdays.

The women used to take turns hosting, but the game is always at Ruth Lipsky’s now. “My husband used to see the fuss I made when the game was at my house and he thought I was trying to be better than everyone else. Turns out all the husbands thought that about their wives! We just liked to do it nicely.” According to my grandmother, “Nobody else wants to cook like that anymore, and Ruth [Lipsky] doesn’t like to go out. This arrangement works for everyone. Ruth likes to bring out her linen, china, and silver, and she always presents a beautiful spread.”

No one drives anymore. My grandmother and Ruth [Paley] have a standing reservation to share a driver. He picks up one and then the other and takes them home later in the afternoon. They split the cost. When Nida’s son is available, he drives her to the game. When he is not, she takes the bus.

“There’s no gossip anymore,” Ruth Lipsky laments. “We used to really enjoy the lunchtime conversation talking about everyone we knew. Many of our friends have died and those who are still living aren’t doing anything worth talking about. It’s just not the same.”

“We don’t shuffle that well,” Nida Bernstein regrets. Shuffle? I saw them walk across the room; they certainly do shuffle. Oh, shuffle, as in the cards! Nida admits that “my hands have lost so much dexterity that I can’t shuffle the way I used to. Now I just mix up the cards. It works ok.” But she proudly states that they can all still see the cards just fine and have not needed to buy an oversize deck…yet.

What makes this group of women so special? They are not the only women in their nineties. They are not the only women who play bridge. Nor are they the only group of friends who get together on a regular basis to share a meal. They are special, in part, because they are all of these things. But there is more.

To me, they represent a dwindling and somewhat nostalgic way of life: growing old where they did their growing up. These daughters of immigrants who settled in Philadelphia still live there. The moves they did make -- from their immigrant neighborhoods, to their tight-knit row home communities, to their suburban single-family homes, to their convenient high-rise buildings -- were further apart socioeconomically than they were geographically. One day I photographed all seven of the houses in which my grandmother has lived. It took only an hour.

Most of us at The Landings won’t be a part of a bridge game that lasts sixty years. Times change. We are fortunate to have our friends from “home” and our friends – and games -- here. But when we chose to move, and leave behind our friends from younger days, we did what the generations before us didn’t do as often or as early. Each year that my grandmother’s card game continues, it grows in distinction.

I love that these ladies learned the game and wove it into their lives, and that they still dress for the occasion, polish the silver, and serve elegant lunches. I love that they disagree with their partners, debate how hands should be played, and look forward to coming back next week. I love that the big winner goes home with $4. Their parents didn’t have time for it. Their children didn’t inherit it. Their grandchildren don’t understand it. Yet these ladies love it. They have weathered the changes and played their hands well. And they don’t think it’s a big deal that they are still, well, dealing. They think 90 is the new 70.

They cast aside their canes and walkers and take their seats. They deal the cards and arrange their hands. They acknowledge the snacks. No one needs to tell me that my “interview” is over. They start to play. I collect my things and thank them for lunch. Without looking up, they invite me to stay. For a moment, I am tempted. I’ve been in the presence of bridge games before, but only against my will. This was different. I didn’t care that I don’t understand the game; I was caught up in their enjoyment of it. They bid and passed and trumped with a skill and passion befitting much younger women. I was sorry I had to go. As I left, I heard one of the women say to my grandmother, “I don’t know why she is making such a fuss about us. [pause] Three Clubs.”

Author’s note: There is another reason that the Ocean View Restaurant joke reminded me of my 98-year-old grandmother: she sent it to me … by email!

Epilogue

When Ruth Lipsky died in 2011, my grandmother became the sole survivor of the original game. Yet she found new games, often with women generations younger than she who came to visit, eat, play, and get bridge advice, whether they asked for it or not. My grandmother died in 2013 at the age of 101.

With the death of the late(r) joiners to the group – Ruth Paley died in 2015 and Nida Bernstein died in 2018 – the card game of 60+ years officially folded.