Wednesday, December 14, and Saturday, December 17, 2011
I got to Bingo Wednesday night at 6:59:59 p.m.— one second to spare by my clock; six days late in Soldiers Home time—and 24 sets of eyes focused directly, and intently, on me. I felt pressured to perform or apologize or flee or something (it really was uncomfortable), but all I could think of was to sputter, “I’m here!”
And that’s all it took.
Bingo was mostly uneventful. All the regulars were there, although Ray McDade didn’t show up until later (with a fancy contraption on his foot to help his horrible blister heal).
Ed, who had complimented my handsome son at Bingo not too long ago, made a return appearance and did the same for me: At one point he said loudly in my general direction, “You do a very good job. I can hear everything you say exactly.”
After Bingo I was talking to Ray and Ann Lawson and noticed Faith in the background, waving something white. She had a Christmas card for me, which I didn’t open until I got home, and it was by far the happiest point of a really challenging day.
The Santa card itself is sweet enough, but her personal message inside still makes me smile: “I enjoy you come + help play Bingo around again,” Faith wrote.
This afternoon I helped Doreen with her regularly scheduled Bingo. As soon as I walked in (several minutes early!), I noticed hats. Lots and lots of hats. Dorothy told me the Old Coots on Scoots Motorcycle Club had dropped off gifts earlier—and by the sound of it, everyone made quite a haul.
Leo Martell hasn’t been to Bingo for a while, so I patted him on his new-hat head (he also had a matching scarf!), and he grabbed my arm. “Hello, sweetheart,” he said, all cuddly. “I missed you. Did you bring us anything good, other than you?”
I walked next to David Fox during Blackout, and all of a sudden he won. “You know you won because I was standing here, right?” I asked him. He adjusted his hearing aid. “I think I want to hear this,” David said, and I repeated myself. He grabbed my hand between his. “It’s our secret,” he said.
I was kind of enjoying all this human contact.
I rubbed Faith’s shoulder and told her how much I enjoyed her Christmas card. She asked me to take a picture of her (with her camera), her Bingo card and the cute holiday centerpiece. (At his table, Ken Levick was using his pencil to bat around a teeny ornament that had fallen off of his.)
The table of Leo Martell, Leo Burton, Charlie and Gary just kept winning and winning. “We’ve gone all the way around—1, 2, 3, 4,” Leo Martell said. They had amassed quite a pile of prizes. “We’re going to have our own Bingo,” Leo laughed.
At one point, looking ahead to Christmas Bingo next week, I made myself a little Bingo seating chart so I wouldn’t forget anyone’s card. I wrote “Bill” at Ray’s table, even though Bill Crowell hasn’t come to Bingo for weeks. As soon as I looked up, I sensed yet another pair of eyes on me: Bill was in the hallway, waving at me through the window. We hugged, and he promised to come to Christmas Bingo.
Personally, I’m going to try to get there a little early.
I got to Bingo Wednesday night at 6:59:59 p.m.— one second to spare by my clock; six days late in Soldiers Home time—and 24 sets of eyes focused directly, and intently, on me. I felt pressured to perform or apologize or flee or something (it really was uncomfortable), but all I could think of was to sputter, “I’m here!”
And that’s all it took.
Bingo was mostly uneventful. All the regulars were there, although Ray McDade didn’t show up until later (with a fancy contraption on his foot to help his horrible blister heal).
Ed, who had complimented my handsome son at Bingo not too long ago, made a return appearance and did the same for me: At one point he said loudly in my general direction, “You do a very good job. I can hear everything you say exactly.”
After Bingo I was talking to Ray and Ann Lawson and noticed Faith in the background, waving something white. She had a Christmas card for me, which I didn’t open until I got home, and it was by far the happiest point of a really challenging day.
The Santa card itself is sweet enough, but her personal message inside still makes me smile: “I enjoy you come + help play Bingo around again,” Faith wrote.
This afternoon I helped Doreen with her regularly scheduled Bingo. As soon as I walked in (several minutes early!), I noticed hats. Lots and lots of hats. Dorothy told me the Old Coots on Scoots Motorcycle Club had dropped off gifts earlier—and by the sound of it, everyone made quite a haul.
Leo Martell hasn’t been to Bingo for a while, so I patted him on his new-hat head (he also had a matching scarf!), and he grabbed my arm. “Hello, sweetheart,” he said, all cuddly. “I missed you. Did you bring us anything good, other than you?”
I walked next to David Fox during Blackout, and all of a sudden he won. “You know you won because I was standing here, right?” I asked him. He adjusted his hearing aid. “I think I want to hear this,” David said, and I repeated myself. He grabbed my hand between his. “It’s our secret,” he said.
I was kind of enjoying all this human contact.
I rubbed Faith’s shoulder and told her how much I enjoyed her Christmas card. She asked me to take a picture of her (with her camera), her Bingo card and the cute holiday centerpiece. (At his table, Ken Levick was using his pencil to bat around a teeny ornament that had fallen off of his.)
The table of Leo Martell, Leo Burton, Charlie and Gary just kept winning and winning. “We’ve gone all the way around—1, 2, 3, 4,” Leo Martell said. They had amassed quite a pile of prizes. “We’re going to have our own Bingo,” Leo laughed.
At one point, looking ahead to Christmas Bingo next week, I made myself a little Bingo seating chart so I wouldn’t forget anyone’s card. I wrote “Bill” at Ray’s table, even though Bill Crowell hasn’t come to Bingo for weeks. As soon as I looked up, I sensed yet another pair of eyes on me: Bill was in the hallway, waving at me through the window. We hugged, and he promised to come to Christmas Bingo.
Personally, I’m going to try to get there a little early.