Mom Always Like You Best

There's a place in town called Simons. A great early morning hangout for healthy foods, good coffee and it just happens to be on the way to work. I sat at the bar, ready to spread out, read the paper and drink my steaming cup of coffee when a man came and sat in the chair right next to me. I'm thinking how rude of him to take up the space I had reserved for my newspaper.

"Here you go Mr. Smothers" the waitress handed him his regular shot of wheat grass. pause. Oh my gosh. I am sitting next to Dick Smothers. The Smother's Brothers. Not the yo yo man, but the man who always thought his mom liked his brother best. I am calmly sipping my coffee thinking how do I get in to a conversation with him. He took off some bicycle gloves so i quickly said "so, you rode your bike here?" "No, I just wear them to protect my hands. I'm getting old", and then I start telling him how I would need pads for my elbows. It seems I am having a hard time getting thru doorways. We kidded and joked and he looked at me and said "Do I know you?", "No," I said, " but now you do, I am Judy Robertson." to which he replied, "I am Dick Smothers"

We shared stories of growing up in Calif. He in Redondo Beach, I in Ventura. I told him how I missed the foothills of Calif, and he told me how content he was in Sarasota. It was such a fun meeting over coffee.

I told my husband all about it, and he said "Are you going to die, you keep meeting famous people" I'm not sure what the correlation is with meeting famous people and death. I'm just going to enjoy this fabulous ride called life.

Motorcycle Man

Florida gets a bad rap sometimes with all the seniors here. The stories of their driving abilities are what helps redirect a boring g dinner conversation into a time of belly laughs. I've seen uturns that end up on sidewalks. I had one lady stop in the middle of a very well know road, get out of her car, come to my window and say "I think I'm lost". Its those kind of events that used to make me worry about my elderly folks. My folks are gone now, so thats one less thing I have to worry about. One day I was sitting at a traffic light, and I saw a car going down the sidewalk. Granted it was a wide sidewalk, but there he was, as happy as could be.

As I was running errands this morning a man in a beautiful 3 wheel harley, bright blue cruised by. I did notice he was quit elderly, and I thought that this was sure an upgrade from a 3-wheeled bicycle. I had warm fuzzy thoughts towards him. Go Grandpa. Go. When I finally caught up to him, there on the back, strapped on his matching blue luggage case, that only the finest harleys have when tricked out was his walker. Not just any kind. It was the kind with shocks and handbrakes.

I hope when I am old I can go cruisin just like grandpa.

Confessions of a Bipolar Tennis Player

I just don't understand how I can go out and play the tennis game of my life one day, and the next day look like I've never picked up a racquet. I just don't understand how I can serve 3 sets without a double fault, and in a tie breaker, can't even hit the ball over the net, let alone get it in the box.

When I was young, my nerves could face any competitive enemy, stare them in the eye and never break a sweat. Now, menopause has somehow sucked that out of me, and my sweats break out in the middle of the night, and to my dismay....in the middle of a match. My limbs shake and my mind travels around the world, and reminds me of all the faults I've ever had. The voice that I've always been able to quiet is screaming now, and I can't silence it.

I think I might be bipolar.

It happened yesterday. A great first set. Won 6-0. Then I hit a forehand out. "Big deal" you say. In my head I hear "Well, its all over now, there goes the set" So I resorted to finding my long lost, two hits ago, rhythm. I bounce the ball three times before serving, hoping a bit of obsessive compulsive behavior would somehow set me right. I just got bored. I tried grunting on my serve. I just got a sore throat.

We lost the second set. No suprise here, saw it coming on the second point. We were in the tie breaker, and then I double faulted twice....in a row....our two point lead was now tied. "Oh God", I'm praying now..."please don't let me serve again". These things attached to my shoulder were now rubber. The smooth strokes were karate chops.... my turn came to serve again, as I was thinking how could God abandoned me in a time like this. I passed my partner and whispered "Watch for the dink." I resorted to survival. Get that damn ball over the net! Dink one, and we got the point. I lined up for the next point thinking "I'm groveling and I don't care? Dink. Ace.

I wish I could say we won....but we didn't. I walked away wondering how these two people came to inhabit my body. The self assured athlete and the wimp.

I kept thinking of calling my shrink and begging for an emergency session. Instead I called a fellow tennis player, shrink, she works with the kids at Bolletierri and whined. She being of the positive essence, gave me great encouragement. When I get to feeling like quitting she reassured me that its just temporary. I keep her messages on my phone for 911 emergency tennis help.

I think I might be bipolar.

Today I played the tennis game of my life. I served well, I moved like one hot momma. I just waited for the opponents to drill me one at the net. I got most of them, and my reflexes were as good as any 20 year old. My forehand blasted crosscourt winners. I felt like I was a kid again, staring down the enemy. The wimpy voice that tried to yell at me was silenced.

I did find a key today to help me get back on track. I found myself sitting down on the bench during the change overs. Never did that before. I don't need to rest. Let's play ball, has always been my motto. Now, the menopausal momma wants to rest her weary bones, just for a second, before she jumps up to face the enemy in her head one more time.

We won, my partner and I. 6-4, 6-1.



Judy Robertson

Letter FROM Billie Jean King

I had hoped I'd get a reply from BJK. Every day I would look in my email box, and made sure when I emptied my email trash, it wouldn't be there. What a suprise when I opened this a few days ago...

Hello Judy. Thank you for the email you sent below. I was very touched by your kind words. I am glad to hear that you have enjoyed the sport of tennis over the years! I will keep my eyes open for a near "look-alike" and please stop me to say hello if our paths ever cross.

Best wishes and always remember to go for it!!

Billie Jean King