It was thought to be Irish poet and writer William Butler Yeats who said, "There are no strangers here; Only friends you haven't yet met."
That's how it was for me some years ago when I crossed paths with Franklintonian Teresa Brown Simpson, the daughter of Earle R. Brown, Sr., and Leona Vessier Brown. Thirteen years apart, she and I - raised in Franklinton by parents who were good friends - had what I figure was our first meeting, decades later, at the bridge table.
In the years following my mother's unexpected passing in 2011, I was invited to play bridge with a lovely group of ladies, who counted my mother either a friend or kin. What was a substitute spot, for me, quickly became a fairly regular, weekly affair, and I couldn't have been more delighted or challenged by the expert players. Playing bridge with the Mandeville Bridge Club on Tuesday and Friday, I headed north to Franklinton where I soaked up new strategy and conventions on Monday.
The eleven local women played a competitive game of bridge. Thankfully, my cousin Jo Ann Magee Phelps - her grandmother Effie Jenkins Wood and my grandmother Emma Jenkins Brumfield were sisters - had not only asked me to partner with her but also showed me the ropes. And as spirited as the game was, the zest over lunch surpassed it. The bridge game, which lasted all day - long enough for wine to appear in the evening - rotated from home to home.
It was after bridge at my house that I ran into long-time friends Dr. Robbie Brown and his wife Sherri. When I mentioned that, recently, his sister Teresa Brown Simpson had played bridge at my Mandeville home, he was both pleased and surprised. I suppose Dr. Robbie didn't know that Teresa and I had become friends. I didn't tell him that regrettably for years I did not know that he had a sister. Despite their Franklinton heritage and mine, age sometimes stratifies folks, leading to separation of generations. Fortunately, bridge broke that barrier for Teresa, a 1969 graduate of Franklinton High School, and me, 1982 from Bowling Green.
I am a firm believer in the old chestnut, better late than never. I only wish our connection had come sooner because Teresa lamentably passed away in mid-March of this year. And though I had not seen her in some time, I already miss her. On the last day of April, I found myself thinking about my friend in Tiger Stadium while waiting for the Garth Brooks concert to commence. In the gloaming I reminisced about Teresa. I didn't know how she felt about Garth, but I did know how she enjoyed LSU football in Tiger stadium.
Initially, Teresa was kind of quiet around me, but that soon passed. Before I knew it, we were chatting up a storm. Teresa had an indelible laugh and a genuine nature. You knew where you stood. We conversed about her occupation - with a Bachelor's degree from Southeastern Louisiana University and a Master's in Speech Therapy from the University of Southern Mississippi, she had served as a speech therapist in area schools in Washington Parish for over three decades. And Teresa enjoyed her work, telling me about speech therapy work she had, at the time, over in St. Helena Parish. She also enjoyed staying home, something the two of us shared. Though historically I've not been home as much as I would like, I consider myself a homebody. And I sensed that same inclination in Teresa.
Survived by Dr. Robbie and Sherri Brown and step-mother Peggy Brown, Teresa was also survived by her brother Frank and sister-in-law Nancy Brown. She was a devoted aunt to Matthew and Kelsey Brown; Daniel Brown; and Barrett and Christi Brown and great-aunt to Beau Brown, McCully Brown, and Eleanor Brown. Speaking fondly of her nieces and nephews, she regaled us with stories. I suppose, most of all, Teresa and I enjoyed talking about family.
So, it didn't surprise me when an envelope from her arrived in the mail in late April of 2018. Teresa had enclosed the recipe for homemade apple cake - her beloved mother Leona's - which she had served at the lovely bridge luncheon she hosted with her bridge partner Acclydia Watson. Melting in my mouth, it had detonated the memory of my Ga-ga's homemade apple cake. As thrilled as I was to have the recipe in hand, what meant more to me was Teresa's handwritten message. After addressing the apple cake and my grandmother, she added: "I have really enjoyed playing bridge with you. You lift everyone's spirits with your laughter and enjoyment of just playing cards. I know our mothers were friends and I am glad to count you as a friend too."
Kinder words could not have been spoken. And a higher compliment could not have been paid for Teresa was an excellent bridge player - way out of my league. As welcoming as they were, she and her partner Acclydia took no prisoners - rather, they took tricks, one after another. Though Cousin Jo Ann is a terrific bridge player in her own right, she was at a disadvantage, saddled with me. But I kept at it, persevering and learning until one Monday just the right opportunity came along.
Even as I write this, I'm unsure if I should. I'm also unsure if my Editor Steve Kuperstock will even print it. One would have to know Teresa to appreciate what was the ultimate compliment. I readily recognized it as did everyone there. Teresa, my right-hand opponent, played the King of hearts. I then trumped it with my tiny two. And as our eyes met, she bellowed, "You bitch!" And then, I knew - we were friends. And laughter erupted. As good friend Judy Ferrante said, "She only dared call people she liked 'bitch.'" I count myself lucky to have been in that number. Long-awaited, true friendship. Teresa will be greatly missed by her family and friends.
