Story by Bob Berndt (BBO: BBerndt)

Inspired by Hilary’s story… I was also taught by my mother, my college grades definitely suffered, but I’d probably have found (in fact, did find) other distractions. My mother ruefully (and frequently) complained, “He just played bridge.”

My wife, knowing how important the game was to me, tried gamely (pun intended) to learn it—taking lessons a couple of times and sitting with me at tournaments as my personal kibitzer. For better or worse (it was not in our vows), she eventually gave up.

I was still taking courses at the University of Missouri–St. Louis after we married (the need for which may have at least partially stemmed from my bridge addiction). One day she locked herself out of our apartment and went to a neighbor friend, asking for a ride to campus to get my keys. “Do you know how huge that place is? You’ll never find him,” our friend exclaimed. Her perfect reply: “Sure I will. He’s in the cafeteria playing bridge.” Suffice it to say, the keys were quickly and successfully retrieved.

When our daughter was born, I had to choose, and bridge lost out to other priorities. I read the bridge columns in the paper and played a local regional or sectional tournament or two each year with my partner and friend, but more out of friendship than bridge ambition. He was disabled and desperately wanted to make Life Master, a goal he accomplished before he died many years ago.

I met my current partner in 2017 on an Amazon cruise, which included enough “sea days” to justify having a bridge director aboard. During the pandemic, he got in touch to let me know about BBO, and we’ve been playing pretty much every week since (when one of us isn’t on a cruise!). He’s on the East Coast and I’m in the Midwest, but we’ve enjoyed maintaining our friendship and partnership through the BBO portal, complete with phone-call post-mortems.