I have just returned from my 25th college reunion. When I was in college, those folks wandering around for their 25th reunion seemed so old. But now I am those folks wandering around. And, yeah, I guess I’m old. Oddly, it’s like 25 years haven’t passed at all. When I walked into my friend’s house after another friend had retrieved me from the airport, we fell right back into our old activities and conversations. And that meant playing bridge. For hours, for really almost the whole weekend.
Somewhere around my sophomore year, but definitely by my junior year, a group of us picked up bridge. We spent a summer abroad playing and then, pretty much spent our entire senior year playing. That’s pretty much what we did on the weekends. We pulled out the cards, threw back a few, sometimes kept score, and played and played. It made us a little anti-social at times, but hey, we had fun, and we weren’t excluding anyone. Just no one else seemed to want to pick up the game.
We socialized a bit this weekend, definitely during the day on Saturday, when we all wandered around the campus and then ended up at the football game, drinking, chatting, and catching up with each other’s lives. At the fancy-ish shindig on Saturday night, at some point, a table opened up and well, we started playing bridge, in our fancy clothes. Many people stopped by, and laughed at us, saying how familiar it looked.
The whole thing was fun, and it was a real pleasure to talk to old friends. It reminded me how short life is, I hope that 10 years doesn’t pass before I see some of these people again . . . and get to play bridge with them again.