At the Friday afternoon bridge game, Ms. Cummins and Ms. Scott sit with two other players, both women in their 90s. Gossip flows freely between hands, about residents whose talk is bigger than their game, about a 100-year-old man who collapsed and died that week in an exercise class.
But the women are all business during play.
“What was that you played, a spade was it?” a partner asks Ms. Cummins.
“Yes, a spade,” says Ms. Cummins, with some irritation. “It was a spade.”
Later, the partner stares uncertainly at the cards on the table. “Is that ——”
“We played that trick already,” Ms. Cummins says. “You’re a trick behind.”
Most regular players at Laguna Woods know of at least one player who, embarrassed by lapses, bowed out of the regular game. “A friend of mine, a very good player, when she thought she couldn’t keep up, she automatically dropped out,” Ms. Cummins said. “That’s usually what happens.”
Yet it is part of the tragedy of dementia that, in many cases, the condition quickly robs people of self-awareness. They will not voluntarily abandon the one thing that, perhaps more than any other, defines their daily existence.
“And then it’s really tough,” Ms. Davis said. “I mean, what do you do? These are your friends.”
Staying in the Game
So far, scientists here have found little evidence that diet or exercise affects the risk of dementia in people over 90. But some researchers argue that mental engagement — doing crossword puzzles, reading books — may delay the arrival of symptoms. And social connections, including interaction with friends, may be very important, some suspect. In isolation, a healthy human mind can go blank and quickly become disoriented, psychologists have found.
“There is quite a bit of evidence now suggesting that the more people you have contact with, in your own home or outside, the better you do” mentally and physically, Dr. Kawas said. “Interacting with people regularly, even strangers, uses easily as much brain power as doing puzzles, and it wouldn’t surprise me if this is what it’s all about.”
And bridge, she added, provides both kinds of stimulation.
The unstated rule at Laguna Woods is to support a friend who is slipping, to act as a kind of memory supplement. “We’re all afraid to lose memory; we’re all at risk of that,” said one regular player in her 90s, who asked not to be named.
Woody Bowersock, 96, a former school principal, helped a teammate on a swim team at Laguna Woods to race even as dementia stole the man’s ability to form almost any new memory.
“You’d have to put him up on the platform just before the race, just walk him over there,” Mr. Bowersock said. “But if the whistle didn’t blow right away, he’d wander off. I tell you, I’d sometimes have to stand there with him until he was in the water. Then he was fine. A very good swimmer. Freestyle.”
Bridge is a different kind of challenge, but some residents here swear that the very good players can play by instinct even when their memory is dissolving.
“I know a man who’s 95, he is starting with dementia and plays bridge, and he forgets hands,” said Marilyn Ruekberg, who lives in Laguna Woods. “I bring him in as a partner anyway, and by the end we do exceedingly well. I don’t know how he does it, but he has lots of experience in the game.”
Scientists suspect that some people with deep experience in a game like bridge may be able to draw on reserves to buffer against memory lapses. But there is not enough evidence one way or the other to know.
Ms. Ruekberg said she cared less about that than about her friend: “I just want to give him something more during the day than his four walls.”
Drawing the Line
In studies of the very old, researchers in California, New York, Boston and elsewhere have found clues to that good fortune. For instance, Dr. Kawas’s group has found that some people who are lucid until the end of a very long life have brains that appear riddled with Alzheimer’s disease. In a study released last month, the researchers report that many of them carry a gene variant called APOE2, which may help them maintain mental sharpness.
Dr. Nir Barzilai of the Albert Einstein College of Medicine has found that lucid Ashkenazi Jewish centenarians are three times more likely to carry a gene called CETP, which appears to increase the size and amount of so-called good cholesterol particles, than peers who succumbed to dementia.
“We don’t know how this could be protective, but it’s very strongly correlated with good cognitive function at this late age,” Dr. Barzilai said. “And at least it gives us a target for future treatments.”
For those in the super-memory club, that future is too far off to be meaningful. What matters most is continued independence. And that means that, at some point, they have to let go of close friends.
“The first thing you always want to do is run and help them,” Ms. Davis said. “But after a while you end up asking yourself: ‘What is my role here? Am I now the caregiver?’ You have to decide how far you’ll go, when you have your own life to live.”
In this world, as in high school, it is all but impossible to take back an invitation to the party. Some players decide to break up their game, at least for a time, only to reform it with another player. Or, they might suggest that a player drop down a level, from a serious game to a more casual one. No player can stand to hear that. Every day in card rooms around the world, some of them will.
“You don’t play with them, period,” Ms. Cummins said. “You’re not cruel. You’re just busy.”
The rhythm of bidding and taking tricks, the easy conversation between hands, the daily game — after almost a century, even for the luckiest in the genetic lottery, it finally ends.
“People stop playing,” said Norma Koskoff, another regular player here, “and very often when they stop playing, they don’t live much longer
