Wednesday, November 9, 2011
I got to the Soldiers Home a good half hour before Bingo, so I made a beeline for Gary’s room. I hadn’t talked to Gary in a long time, and I really missed him. Doreen was already there, but they insisted I wasn’t intruding, so I took them at their word and plopped right down. We talked about golf (Gary knows a lot about golf and golf courses), Soldiers Home goings-on (Gary is very plugged in) and, naturally, homemade pies (Doreen bakes like no one’s business). We laughed a lot, and reconnected, and this was one of those times a visit does more for me than anyone else.
Doreen and I left for Bingo duty, and outside the Bingo room I stopped to sign a “memories” book for Danny White. I picked up a program from his memorial and was surprised to learn Danny was much older than I’d thought.
As soon as I walked in to Bingo, Dorothy told me a lot of residents had gone to an Elks dinner—which explained why the room was emptier than usual. “Well, then everyone will be a winner tonight,” I said.
I said hi to Ann Lawson and Ken Levick, then stopped at Cal Bush’s table to brag that I’d won $32 at my last visit to the casino. Not surprisingly, he had a casino trip planned for the next day—he and his son were entering a big drawing—and I told him I was sure he’d win. He always does. Just to prove me right, he won the first Bingo of the night as I was standing there.
Ray McDade called me over and very sweetly took my hand. He had good news: Someone had found and returned his prized rosary, which had gone missing weeks ago. It was lying in the weeds outside the chapel. “Maybe someone had a flash of conscience,” I told him. “Maybe,” he said.
Billy came in and waved me over. “Fame,” he said. “Da-da-da. Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame.” I don’t always understand Billy, but I got this immediately—and have been singing it ever since. “David Bowie!” I said. Billy beamed.
Bingo went smoothly enough, considering there was a new number caller and no Gus to push the prize cart. Doreen took over the cart, Gary No. 2 took over the Bingo table and we made a pretty good team.
Everyone was a winner, and quite a few people needed a plastic grocery sack to hold all their loot.
As we were tidying up, Doreen put her arm around me and told me that whenever I have a second, whether she’s already there or not, I should feel free to stop in and talk to Gary. “It makes his whole day when someone comes to see him,” she said. How ’bout that—it makes mine, too.
I got to the Soldiers Home a good half hour before Bingo, so I made a beeline for Gary’s room. I hadn’t talked to Gary in a long time, and I really missed him. Doreen was already there, but they insisted I wasn’t intruding, so I took them at their word and plopped right down. We talked about golf (Gary knows a lot about golf and golf courses), Soldiers Home goings-on (Gary is very plugged in) and, naturally, homemade pies (Doreen bakes like no one’s business). We laughed a lot, and reconnected, and this was one of those times a visit does more for me than anyone else.
Doreen and I left for Bingo duty, and outside the Bingo room I stopped to sign a “memories” book for Danny White. I picked up a program from his memorial and was surprised to learn Danny was much older than I’d thought.
As soon as I walked in to Bingo, Dorothy told me a lot of residents had gone to an Elks dinner—which explained why the room was emptier than usual. “Well, then everyone will be a winner tonight,” I said.
I said hi to Ann Lawson and Ken Levick, then stopped at Cal Bush’s table to brag that I’d won $32 at my last visit to the casino. Not surprisingly, he had a casino trip planned for the next day—he and his son were entering a big drawing—and I told him I was sure he’d win. He always does. Just to prove me right, he won the first Bingo of the night as I was standing there.
Ray McDade called me over and very sweetly took my hand. He had good news: Someone had found and returned his prized rosary, which had gone missing weeks ago. It was lying in the weeds outside the chapel. “Maybe someone had a flash of conscience,” I told him. “Maybe,” he said.
Billy came in and waved me over. “Fame,” he said. “Da-da-da. Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame.” I don’t always understand Billy, but I got this immediately—and have been singing it ever since. “David Bowie!” I said. Billy beamed.
Bingo went smoothly enough, considering there was a new number caller and no Gus to push the prize cart. Doreen took over the cart, Gary No. 2 took over the Bingo table and we made a pretty good team.
Everyone was a winner, and quite a few people needed a plastic grocery sack to hold all their loot.
As we were tidying up, Doreen put her arm around me and told me that whenever I have a second, whether she’s already there or not, I should feel free to stop in and talk to Gary. “It makes his whole day when someone comes to see him,” she said. How ’bout that—it makes mine, too.
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