I love that song by Lou Reed. In fact, I enjoy that entire album, named for the city in which I lived the summer it was introduced into my life, which was 1991. That was the summer I interned at the Insurance Services Office, located in World Trade Center 5, after my second year of college. I was dating the older brother of one of my housemates, and we were (almost?) the quintessential New Yorkers: liberal, young, and happy. Though we were both on budgets, we were good at finding great free events/activities to take up while I was there. No, we were not living anything like the "Friends" depicted on television, but we were happy. We were a nice Jewish boy from Wisconsin and a young Chinese-American woman (we insisted on calling ourselves women - or wimmin, or womyn - in those days at Wellesley) from Bergen County, New Jersey.
I received a letter recently from a friend I'd met while I lived in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. Ann commented that my life, since having moved to San Diego, appears to have been quite full and interesting in fulfilling ways. I looked back at my life while I lived in Lycoming County, Pennsylvania, and realized that at that point, my life was quite circumscribed by my physical circumstances. I was a stay-at-home mom to a young child (Kat aged from 6 to 8 then), and my life was centered on improving my mental and, to a lesser extent, physical abilities after having been pretty well-battered as the result of a rush-hour automobile collision involving my economy 4-door sedan and a tractor trailer. I remember just being thankful (to nobody in particular, but nonetheless, relieved) that Kat was not in the car with me, for though her car seat was securely fastened to the center of the rear seat, she would nonetheless have suffered injuries from flying broken glass and psychological trauma, for she probably would not have lost consciousness, as I had.
While I recovered slowly, I started to play Bridge as a means of improving my short-term memory skills while enjoying social interaction. Most (actually, all) of the other members of the Williamsport Bridge Club were retirees who had their Tuesday afternoons free. Actually, just about all of my days were free, as I had no job -or even job prospects- at this point. I helped set out the snacks and coffee each Tuesday afternoon, and enjoyed the weekly lessons before a few hours of play. All the players were friendly, even if they gave intense competition during the game. There would be breaks when we chatted about our families and lives. I enjoyed those afternoons. After I left the Keystone State for the sunny Southwest (first stopping in Albuquerque for the summer, then finally landing in San Diego), I kept in touch with Ann, one of my occasional partners in playing (her husband, Frank, does not play Bridge, or at least doesn't to the extent that Ann plays). More often than not, the instructor, whose name escapes me now, was usually my partner, as I was one of the few people there who was not joined by their spouse or another regular partner.
When I moved to Albuquerque, and then, later, San Diego, I played Bridge as a means of joining an established community which was friendly and open to new players. There appeared to be very little ego in the room, just fun being had by all who were learning or re-learning after a hiatus that may have lasted years. Not that Bridge cannot be stressful, but playing it is enjoyable for me, though I have not played in many, many months now (essentially since taking up SCUBA diving, three years ago).
I was reminded of how much I enjoy games during our recent trip on the Horizon, over Memorial Day weekend, when we went to Santa Catalina Island and San Clemente. I played a few games of Mexican Train (dominoes) with a couple of older women and enjoyed taking my turns, chatting, and playing, even if I didn't win. The other players commented on my sportsmanship, and I replied that as often as I find myself losing, it helps to enjoy the play as much as I do. Winning is a plus, no longer a focus. The games seem to have become much more of a journey for me than a means to an end.
Anyway, all of this was brought to mind when I received a letter from Ann, informing me that she's been in physical therapy because she'd fallen a couple times due to strength imbalance in her legs. I think Ann's in her early- to mid-80's now, just about 40 years older than I am. I recently took some stock of my general health, and while I am, by may respects, healthy, I'm not near as fit as I'd like to be.
As a reminder to myself, I want to get back into running intervals again, especially now that my hip is feeling much better after the little bit of rest and physical therapy it did receive over the past three weeks. I ran once last week, and I may go again this afternoon/evening, depending on how the schedule works out with my going to the gym and getting to the equipment I like before it becomes too crowded with the after-work crowd. It also depends on when Kat gets home, of course.
The reason I wanted to write this entry in the first place was to introduce the fact that Kat and I will be taking Professional Bakeshop Skills together through San Diego Continuing Education, which will be very, very cool. She actually attended the first class this week with Liz because I was still recovering from food poisoning that I acquired Sunday afternoon at the SCUBA show. Next week, I will attend Monday afternoon/evening's class, and Kat will be on her field trip with her Girl Scout troop to NorCal. The following week, we'll finally be able to attend a class together. There'll be optional Friday classes as well, and I'm fairly sure we'll try to make it to a lot of those sessions, too. I'm tres excited to take a class with her, especially in a topic that we both love and can bring into our home life, as well as something that can go beyond our home life, eventually, depending on how things go...
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