Sunday, February 6, 2011
Today was my first Superbowl Sunday at the Soldiers Home. The “tailgate” party started at 2, and I could smell the wienies from three hallways away. OMG—they smelled seriously delicious.
Two tables were set up in the Activities Center, loaded with a tabletop grill for the hotdogs, plus bags and bags of chips, dips and all sorts of pop. Six or seven residents were seated at the big table by the big-screen TV. A few others were scattered around with snacks. Mike and I sat at a smaller table, and before long Gary and Cal Bush joined us.
“I just ate three hot dogs,” Cal laughed. (They really did smell delicious.) Then he set into a box of Red Hots, which we found much more entertaining than the pregame shows.
“Those will make you ugly,” Gary told Cal.
“Ha,” Cal said. “I’ve been eating them my whole life.”
“I rest my case,” said Gary.
Even before Christina Aguilera mangled the “Star Spangled Banner,” Mike had turned against her.
“Oh, God,” he said. “I can tell she’s going to take this someplace crazy.”
Gary and I made plans to meet at the casino Tuesday (a Soldiers Home field trip, plus his birthday), which started Mike down Memory Lane to a time when he was quite the gambler. And horse enthusiast.
The game finally started. The room was still full, but not everyone was into the game. I was having trouble seeing the game clock. Cal left to watch in his room. And with his own belly full of dog-dipped-in-cheese-sauce, Gary dozed off.
My plan was to head home during halftime (a prescient decision, as it turned out), and Mike had had enough of the crowd by then, anyway.
We went back to his room, and he said he was kind of nervous about our upcoming Valentines Dinner. He hasn’t been dressed up and “out to dinner” for years. I realized I hadn’t thought about it from his perspective until right now.
“Nothing to it,” I said. “Basically just you and me going to the snack bar.”
Except, of course, it’s not. Especially not from his perspective.
Today was my first Superbowl Sunday at the Soldiers Home. The “tailgate” party started at 2, and I could smell the wienies from three hallways away. OMG—they smelled seriously delicious.
Two tables were set up in the Activities Center, loaded with a tabletop grill for the hotdogs, plus bags and bags of chips, dips and all sorts of pop. Six or seven residents were seated at the big table by the big-screen TV. A few others were scattered around with snacks. Mike and I sat at a smaller table, and before long Gary and Cal Bush joined us.
“I just ate three hot dogs,” Cal laughed. (They really did smell delicious.) Then he set into a box of Red Hots, which we found much more entertaining than the pregame shows.
“Those will make you ugly,” Gary told Cal.
“Ha,” Cal said. “I’ve been eating them my whole life.”
“I rest my case,” said Gary.
Even before Christina Aguilera mangled the “Star Spangled Banner,” Mike had turned against her.
“Oh, God,” he said. “I can tell she’s going to take this someplace crazy.”
Gary and I made plans to meet at the casino Tuesday (a Soldiers Home field trip, plus his birthday), which started Mike down Memory Lane to a time when he was quite the gambler. And horse enthusiast.
The game finally started. The room was still full, but not everyone was into the game. I was having trouble seeing the game clock. Cal left to watch in his room. And with his own belly full of dog-dipped-in-cheese-sauce, Gary dozed off.
My plan was to head home during halftime (a prescient decision, as it turned out), and Mike had had enough of the crowd by then, anyway.
We went back to his room, and he said he was kind of nervous about our upcoming Valentines Dinner. He hasn’t been dressed up and “out to dinner” for years. I realized I hadn’t thought about it from his perspective until right now.
“Nothing to it,” I said. “Basically just you and me going to the snack bar.”
Except, of course, it’s not. Especially not from his perspective.