Friday, April 27, 2012
Amazingly, I made it to today’s 2 p.m. weekday Bingo session. Not so amazingly, I got there at 2:03 p.m. Everyone was in place, and the place was packed: Matt was calling numbers, Terry had loaded the prize cart and at least half of the Activities staff was on board. There was a big crowd of players, too, and it was nice to see everyone after a long Bingo lapse.
Maybe Dorothy summed up my feelings best: “Nice to see you,” she said when I walked in.
Apparently there had been a little dustup at the previous weekend’s VFW Auxiliary Bingo, so this session started with an official reading of The Official Bingo Rules. The exercise, I believe, was directed at one particular person who had one particular problem with one particular rule, but out-loud clarification is never a bad idea.
Bingo moved along mostly uneventfully. Ray McDade came in late and then left early after a tiny argument with a physical therapist who wanted to remove him. I guess she won.
Doris and Harriet and I got a couple laughs out of our own personal inside joke: the sad, orphaned laundry detergent that always lingers on the prize cart.
Leo Martell shouted Ray’s traditional, “Bingo, Bango, Bongo” at one point, and I told him he was disqualified for saying too many B-words.
At the same table, Charlie sweetly adopted one of the out-loud Bingo rules: Residents are allowed to help each other with Bingo cards. He watched over Doug and his card through the whole session, and made sure to call Bingo when Doug won.
I had brought our puppy out to see/lick/squirm on Ray after Bingo, but since Ray had disappeared, I went looking for Gary.
Finally I found him in the gazebo, talking with a woman and coughing violently.
I told them I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I did. They seemed distracted and involved, though, so I regretted it immediately, and we basically just said hi and left.
I left feeling as if I’d missed some good, rewarding connections—and worried about a couple of my friends—but, at least I got there.
Amazingly, I made it to today’s 2 p.m. weekday Bingo session. Not so amazingly, I got there at 2:03 p.m. Everyone was in place, and the place was packed: Matt was calling numbers, Terry had loaded the prize cart and at least half of the Activities staff was on board. There was a big crowd of players, too, and it was nice to see everyone after a long Bingo lapse.
Maybe Dorothy summed up my feelings best: “Nice to see you,” she said when I walked in.
Apparently there had been a little dustup at the previous weekend’s VFW Auxiliary Bingo, so this session started with an official reading of The Official Bingo Rules. The exercise, I believe, was directed at one particular person who had one particular problem with one particular rule, but out-loud clarification is never a bad idea.
Bingo moved along mostly uneventfully. Ray McDade came in late and then left early after a tiny argument with a physical therapist who wanted to remove him. I guess she won.
Doris and Harriet and I got a couple laughs out of our own personal inside joke: the sad, orphaned laundry detergent that always lingers on the prize cart.
Leo Martell shouted Ray’s traditional, “Bingo, Bango, Bongo” at one point, and I told him he was disqualified for saying too many B-words.
At the same table, Charlie sweetly adopted one of the out-loud Bingo rules: Residents are allowed to help each other with Bingo cards. He watched over Doug and his card through the whole session, and made sure to call Bingo when Doug won.
I had brought our puppy out to see/lick/squirm on Ray after Bingo, but since Ray had disappeared, I went looking for Gary.
Finally I found him in the gazebo, talking with a woman and coughing violently.
I told them I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I did. They seemed distracted and involved, though, so I regretted it immediately, and we basically just said hi and left.
I left feeling as if I’d missed some good, rewarding connections—and worried about a couple of my friends—but, at least I got there.
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