Saturday, August 6, 2011
Today’s Bingo belonged to the VFW Ladies’ Auxiliary, but since I know and love these particular VFW ladies (Doreen and Sandy), I barged right in and made myself at home.
As I was saying hello to Dorothy and Gary S., I noticed Faith one table over. I hadn’t seen Faith since her husband died, so I excused myself and made a beeline to hug her. She introduced me to her son and granddaughters and showed me a lovely memorial photo of Ben, and then another of the two of them. “This is the last picture of him,” she said. “It’s beautiful,” I told her. “I’m so glad you have it.”
Some familiar faces were absent—no Ray McDade (I later found him dozing in his new nursing-center space), no Ann Lawson, no Bill Crowell—but Ari was back calling the Bingo numbers, and Cal Bush looked eager to tell me something.
As I got closer, I remembered what that might be. “How’d you do at the casino last week?,” I lobbed. Bingo! (So to speak.) Cal beamed. “I won $60,” he said. I punched him in the arm. He wins every single time he goes. I do not. “And I was only playing pennies,” he said.
At one point a man I hadn’t met wheeled in. I introduced myself, and he told me he’d just moved into the nursing center from Roosevelt Barracks and was learning his way around. I brought him a nursing-center activity calendar, and he pulled out a big magnifying glass to take a look.
After Bingo, I told Ari how nice it was to have him back. Cal thanked me for coming. He always does. “It’s my pleasure,” I told Cal. And it is. It always is.
(P.S.: I have not forgotten or abandoned the topic of The Transition. But after reading Bob’s perspective on my last post, I would like to seek out those residents’ views to balance the concerns I have encountered so far. Also: I still hope to receive the you-will-not-be-evicted letter the director had planned to send residents, as well as his Power Point presentation on the plan.)
Today’s Bingo belonged to the VFW Ladies’ Auxiliary, but since I know and love these particular VFW ladies (Doreen and Sandy), I barged right in and made myself at home.
As I was saying hello to Dorothy and Gary S., I noticed Faith one table over. I hadn’t seen Faith since her husband died, so I excused myself and made a beeline to hug her. She introduced me to her son and granddaughters and showed me a lovely memorial photo of Ben, and then another of the two of them. “This is the last picture of him,” she said. “It’s beautiful,” I told her. “I’m so glad you have it.”
Some familiar faces were absent—no Ray McDade (I later found him dozing in his new nursing-center space), no Ann Lawson, no Bill Crowell—but Ari was back calling the Bingo numbers, and Cal Bush looked eager to tell me something.
As I got closer, I remembered what that might be. “How’d you do at the casino last week?,” I lobbed. Bingo! (So to speak.) Cal beamed. “I won $60,” he said. I punched him in the arm. He wins every single time he goes. I do not. “And I was only playing pennies,” he said.
At one point a man I hadn’t met wheeled in. I introduced myself, and he told me he’d just moved into the nursing center from Roosevelt Barracks and was learning his way around. I brought him a nursing-center activity calendar, and he pulled out a big magnifying glass to take a look.
After Bingo, I told Ari how nice it was to have him back. Cal thanked me for coming. He always does. “It’s my pleasure,” I told Cal. And it is. It always is.
(P.S.: I have not forgotten or abandoned the topic of The Transition. But after reading Bob’s perspective on my last post, I would like to seek out those residents’ views to balance the concerns I have encountered so far. Also: I still hope to receive the you-will-not-be-evicted letter the director had planned to send residents, as well as his Power Point presentation on the plan.)
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