John had played bridge at the club for years. He had quite a string of partners. He was always pleasant at the table and was a pretty good player. He had a very odd habit that made everyone wonder. In all the years they had known him, during the session, at the end of a hand or two or three, he would carefully remove a well worn piece of paper and read it. He would nod to himself, absorb the widsom and then shake his head at himself. Then he would carefully refold it and place it back into his pocket. Though everyone wondered what inspiration was, they never dared ask. The moment seemed so fraught with meaning for him, they didn't want to intrude on him. Well when the next Tuesday arrived and he didn't show up for his regular game as expected, they called his home to hear the sad news that John had past away. Condolences were exchanged and several of the club members attended the funeral. At the close, one of the players approached the widow. He told her what a pleasant man her husband had been and how much everyone enjoyed having him at the table. Then he tentatively asked the widow, "If you don't mind me asking you, John had a habit that kept us all wondering, do you mind if I inquire?" She nodded, and he told her about his habit of reading a folded note from him pocket. She smiled a little and said, "I'm glad you asked. I have been puzzling over it for years. I had intended to ask someone to see if they knew. I brought it with me to see if someone could tell me what it means." Some of the other players heard the conversation and started to gather. She reached into her pocket and withdrew the well worn note they had seen him read so many times. She held it out to him and as he took it the other players gathered close so as to obtain the wisdom of the note.... he carefully and reverently unfolded it and read.... PASS