Saturday, June 2, 2012
At Monday’s Memorial Day service, Doreen had asked whether I could please help her at today’s VFW Auxiliary Bingo session, and I promised I would. Then this morning I woke up two hours too early, threw out my back and (maybe) turned a teensy bit grumpy.
I really didn’t have the energy for Bingo, but I also didn’t want to let Doreen down, so I downed a couple Ibuprofen; drove to the Soldiers Home, leaning back against my heated aromatherapy wrap; and prepared for a challenge.
Instead I got a break. Doreen was not alone. Her occasional Auxiliary helpers, Patsy and Peggy, were pushing prize carts. Terry was helping. Richard was helping. Matt was calling numbers. Erin was taking attendance. Never in my life have I seen so many Bingo helpers at one session. Of course, this meant I really didn’t need to be there, but since I was, I decided to make the best of it.
First thing, Dorothy asked whether I had a new haircut. Which I did, and it was only two hours old. “I do,” I said. Good thing I wasn’t fishing for a compliment. “I couldn’t tell if it was new or just wet,” Dorothy said.
Next stop, I hugged Ray McDade from behind. He looked very spiffy, in a bright-red polo shirt and crisp blue pants. “You look pretty spiffy,” I told him. I asked whether he’d seen Bill Crowell lately. Ray said he’d tried, as recently as Friday, but Bill was always asleep. “I’m going to try to rouse him,” I said.
I didn’t even need to. Bill was awake and watching TV. I hugged him hello, and he smiled. “I had a dream about you last night,” he said. I’ve been thinking about Bill a lot lately—maybe that somehow seeped into his subconscious from afar.
“I’ve come to take you to Bingo,” I said. I was prepared for a debate. I didn’t get one.
“When?” Bill asked. “Now,” I said. And off we went. But not as quickly as that sounds.
First I had to find an aide to help me hoist Bill from his giant recliner—which, it turns out, is a motorized giant recliner that props him up all on its own. (Handy fact to pack away for next time.)
“I’m moving slowly lately,” Bill said, scooting along behind his walker. “I feel like I’m floating in space.”
I knew exactly what he meant. I told him to take his time. Once we made it outside the Bingo room, Ray spotted us through the window and gave a big thumbs-up.
Bill settled in and caught up with Ray. Then Bill asked me, “When’s graduation?” I told him it is this month, usually, and he asked how much it costs. “I think it’s free,” I told him. “But the kids might have to pay for their caps and gowns.”
Bill looked at me as if I were floating in space. “What are you talking about?” he asked.
I thought I knew, but I guess I didn’t. “Graduation,” I said, kind of as a question.
“No,” Bill said. “I’m talking about that thing you did with Ray.”
Ohhh. Bill meant Valentine’s Day. (Bill asked me to next year’s Valentines Dinner five minutes after Ray and I finished eating at this year’s.) Bill wondered how long he had to figure out all the details, and whether he should just give me the money now so I could take care of it.
“That’s eight months away, and they take care of everything for you,” I told Bill. I gave Ray a look. “Plus,” I told Bill, “Ray will help you when it gets closer.” Ray smiled. So did Bill.
(Yes, I realize I was doing a lot more chatting than Bingo-ing, but all those people really had things perfectly under control.)
Next I caught up with David Fox, who was not sitting at his regular table; he and Leo Martell had inexplicably switched places. I patted David on the shoulder and asked how he was. “Better now that I get to see you!” he said, loudly and clearly. “And I’m not just saying that. That’s a fact!”
I smiled. “Don’t say a word,” he said. “We don’t want anyone to find out about us.” I looked across the table at Charlie, who was trying not very successfully not to find out about us. “Too late,” I told David, and pointed at Charlie. We all chuckled.
I really hadn’t expected to enjoy Bingo today. I was worried about my mood, I was worried about my back and I was worried about Bill Crowell—but this change of pace, and this chance to reconnect, actually turned into fun, and once again I was glad I’d come to Bingo. Although now I’m kind of worried about my hair.
At Monday’s Memorial Day service, Doreen had asked whether I could please help her at today’s VFW Auxiliary Bingo session, and I promised I would. Then this morning I woke up two hours too early, threw out my back and (maybe) turned a teensy bit grumpy.
I really didn’t have the energy for Bingo, but I also didn’t want to let Doreen down, so I downed a couple Ibuprofen; drove to the Soldiers Home, leaning back against my heated aromatherapy wrap; and prepared for a challenge.
Instead I got a break. Doreen was not alone. Her occasional Auxiliary helpers, Patsy and Peggy, were pushing prize carts. Terry was helping. Richard was helping. Matt was calling numbers. Erin was taking attendance. Never in my life have I seen so many Bingo helpers at one session. Of course, this meant I really didn’t need to be there, but since I was, I decided to make the best of it.
First thing, Dorothy asked whether I had a new haircut. Which I did, and it was only two hours old. “I do,” I said. Good thing I wasn’t fishing for a compliment. “I couldn’t tell if it was new or just wet,” Dorothy said.
Next stop, I hugged Ray McDade from behind. He looked very spiffy, in a bright-red polo shirt and crisp blue pants. “You look pretty spiffy,” I told him. I asked whether he’d seen Bill Crowell lately. Ray said he’d tried, as recently as Friday, but Bill was always asleep. “I’m going to try to rouse him,” I said.
I didn’t even need to. Bill was awake and watching TV. I hugged him hello, and he smiled. “I had a dream about you last night,” he said. I’ve been thinking about Bill a lot lately—maybe that somehow seeped into his subconscious from afar.
“I’ve come to take you to Bingo,” I said. I was prepared for a debate. I didn’t get one.
“When?” Bill asked. “Now,” I said. And off we went. But not as quickly as that sounds.
First I had to find an aide to help me hoist Bill from his giant recliner—which, it turns out, is a motorized giant recliner that props him up all on its own. (Handy fact to pack away for next time.)
“I’m moving slowly lately,” Bill said, scooting along behind his walker. “I feel like I’m floating in space.”
I knew exactly what he meant. I told him to take his time. Once we made it outside the Bingo room, Ray spotted us through the window and gave a big thumbs-up.
Bill settled in and caught up with Ray. Then Bill asked me, “When’s graduation?” I told him it is this month, usually, and he asked how much it costs. “I think it’s free,” I told him. “But the kids might have to pay for their caps and gowns.”
Bill looked at me as if I were floating in space. “What are you talking about?” he asked.
I thought I knew, but I guess I didn’t. “Graduation,” I said, kind of as a question.
“No,” Bill said. “I’m talking about that thing you did with Ray.”
Ohhh. Bill meant Valentine’s Day. (Bill asked me to next year’s Valentines Dinner five minutes after Ray and I finished eating at this year’s.) Bill wondered how long he had to figure out all the details, and whether he should just give me the money now so I could take care of it.
“That’s eight months away, and they take care of everything for you,” I told Bill. I gave Ray a look. “Plus,” I told Bill, “Ray will help you when it gets closer.” Ray smiled. So did Bill.
(Yes, I realize I was doing a lot more chatting than Bingo-ing, but all those people really had things perfectly under control.)
Next I caught up with David Fox, who was not sitting at his regular table; he and Leo Martell had inexplicably switched places. I patted David on the shoulder and asked how he was. “Better now that I get to see you!” he said, loudly and clearly. “And I’m not just saying that. That’s a fact!”
I smiled. “Don’t say a word,” he said. “We don’t want anyone to find out about us.” I looked across the table at Charlie, who was trying not very successfully not to find out about us. “Too late,” I told David, and pointed at Charlie. We all chuckled.
I really hadn’t expected to enjoy Bingo today. I was worried about my mood, I was worried about my back and I was worried about Bill Crowell—but this change of pace, and this chance to reconnect, actually turned into fun, and once again I was glad I’d come to Bingo. Although now I’m kind of worried about my hair.