Hope Sheehan
Just 3.5 measly gold points lay between my partner and a Life Master status. Surely, we could do something about that. So last July, we headed to Finger lakes for the tournament. Well, we did earn 3 gold points, but it was my status, not hers, that was lifted a level. I can’t remember what level mine is; probably the ‘SMTMM’ grade - ‘Still Making Too Many Mistakes.’
Anyway, I received congratulations from the ACBL as well as an invite from a regional official to “tell my bridge story.”
It is likely evident by now that I am indifferent to my point accumulation. However, surprisingly, my late-in-life bridge learning has turned out to be such a profound transformation to my soul, that in amazement and gratitude I will share my story with you.
Around 2011, my joy at playing racquetball at the advanced level disintegrated. The league was dissolved and after that the men wouldn’t play with me if they didn’t have to. So just like that, poof, a lifelong pleasure vanished.
My competitive spirit yearned for a new challenge. Yet to spare myself the trauma of further loss, I stipulated that in my new venture, I must never hear either of the following phrases; “ You’re too old,” or “You’re a female.”
Enter bridge with its plethora of mature female players.
My story now travels back to my childhood in the 1950's and a pattern of life as you will see that poorly equipped me for learning to play bridge.
When I was a small child, everyday was tense with worry and apprehension. I lived hourly with a clenched stomach and a tight bum, dreading the daily blows; many of these bare-bottom blows delivered for being lazy and stupid. My brain chose to escape this misery. Subsequently, massive distract ability and a poor memory set in. You can understand how this circumstance of feeling fearful and stupid, suffering a poor memory and always being “mentally elsewhere” left me only a precarious basis upon which to learn.
On becoming a adult, I was drawn to playing cards yet continually baffled as to how some people just ‘knew’ where the cards were. I wanted to be one of them. So, when racquetball disappeared, I determined to play bridge.
At the time, I was 58 years old, yet my age didn’t turn out to be the biggest impediment. Instead, even after a lifetime of therapy and recovery my brain and heart were still spiritually scarred, unknown to me. I was completely unprepared then for the soul-healing journey that lay ahead of me.
Who would have guessed that learning to play the game of bridge would finally set my heart free?
August 5, 2026