Page 45 - WhyAsInY

WHo are tHese PeoPle? (Part 1)
understood by her audience to have been emitted by the tape recorder. Rather, they appeared at first to evidence social indiscretions, presum- ably committed by one of those present. The educators very politely sat in highly controlled and very uncomfortable, stony silence. For my mother’s part, all that she could do was to clench her teeth in horror as she ultimately realized, first, that the purpose and dignity of the event had been seriously undermined; second, that her essay tape was some- how flawed; and, third, that that uncontrollable child of hers was the culprit. This, of course, resulted in a good bit of laughter . . . but only months or years later.
Although math, according to her, was not my mother’s subject—it was very much my father’s—she was very good at playing a bridge hand if she “got the bid.” Getting the bid (becoming the “declarer” by being first to name the suit in which the hand would be played) was something else again. (If you are unfamiliar with bridge, please consult Appendix B.) I taught my parents how to play the game when I was in high school. Mom took to it naturally, while my father, who played the hand decently, became addicted to it and read every book about it that he could get his hands on. This did not necessarily result in his becoming an expert, but it buoyed his confidence, and, when his confidence was combined with (or, more precisely, sat opposite) my mother’s natural ability and tenac- ity, a uniquely competitive bidding style resulted. And I don’t mean competitive with others; I mean competitive with each other.
When they would realize that they had better cards than their oppo- nents had—by means of the process of bidding to settle on the suit in which the hand would be played and, therefore, on the identity not only of the declarer (the person from their partnership who would play the hand and make all of the decisions) but also that of the aptly named “dummy” (the declarer’s partner, who was constrained to watch the action in silence, a condition utterly alien to my mother)—their bidding would be something to witness. Their bidding (and here I omit the “passes” of their opponents), would start benignly enough, but with each bid, it would accelerate (improperly) in emphasis, volume, frustration, and determination: “One heart”—“One spade”—“TWO Hearts”—
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