Fanagrams

The next day was bright and sunny.  The working world must have been elated that this perfect day fell on a Saturday.  The beach would be crowded with body surfers and beach volleyball, and the bike path full of bikers and roller bladers.  But this was shaping up to be an intense work day for me – playing bridge could be tense enough, but I had to do it while simultaneously making a productive connection with Henry.  For starters, I had to somehow insinuate myself into Henry’s bridge game in the park.  From my playing days with my father, I recalled that some games were restricted to those with Bridge Master Points, awarded during officially sanctioned tournaments.  I figured I could bluff my way through that.  My father was always very proud of his Master Points, and after he died, I found his bridge card in this wallet next to his driver’s license.  But I knew that I needed to bone up on common bidding conventions.  I remember my father storming into the house one day, exclaiming, “Guess what, you can now bid 1 No Trump with as few as 15 points.  Back when I started playing you had to have at least 18 points.”  It all seemed very silly to me, but posturing definitely part of the bridge culture. Continue reading →