Friday, November 19, 2010
Mike had called me at home and sounded as if he really needed some company, so I came down Wednesday morning and was pleasantly surprised to find him up and around so early. He seemed happy to see me, too—he grabbed my hand and kissed it, and held on rather tightly for a while there—and later told me he’d had a lump in his throat when he'd realized I had come.
I bring up Wednesday because Mike had a brand-new gadget—a portable CD player from Recreation, along with a dozen or so classic country CDS—which I found brilliant. Not only is the music soothing, but the distraction of all those buttons to push and batteries to replace and headphones to adjust makes for powerful medicine.
So when Carson and I went down tonight before Bingo, we brought Mike four shiny new AA batteries and a country Christmas compilation I thought he’d enjoy. Except he didn’t really notice them—or us—because he was so totally distracted by that blasted new CD player. This could be a record: inspiration to irritation in two days flat.
He’d sent a staffer out with money and a mission, and Mike now had a new Elvis collectors set (complete with a mini-guitar candle), more batteries than he could carry and even a new battery recharger. He did congratulate Carson on his golf team’s success, but then Mike promptly shunned our batteries, decided he wasn’t ready for Christmas music, put his headphones back on and turned the volume up to 11. I think we were just stiffed by Kathy Mattea.
Mike came to Bingo, so Carson sat with him when he wasn’t helping with the prize cart, but within 5 minutes he was playing Mike’s Bingo card so Mike could switch out CDs—and leave to check on his batteries, and come back to readjust his headphones.
All in all, we batted only 1-of-3 with our gifts. We had brought a strawberry-rhubarb pie for Ray McDade (who had really wanted a slice at the Veterans Day program, but they never unwrapped the pie), but Ray was at church, so we left it with his neighbor. Our only success was Dorothy, who happily accepted her two giant cans of little Vienna sausages (she always picks the canned meats from the Bingo cart), in thanks for her willingness to help out last week when I needed to leave a little early.
Naturally, everyone was thrilled to see Carson. David Fox and Cal Bush shook his hand warmly, and Dahl saluted him from across the table. Wesley always calls him “brother,” which I love, and Carson eventually interacted with just about everyone, thanks to the roaming prize cart.
Carson had asked me whether Gary would come to Bingo—he didn’t, but I did catch him as he zipped by the Bingo door. Carson waved from across the room, and Gary asked us to find him before we left so he could see Carson’s new car.
We did. Gary and Carson had a few male-bonding chuckles over my reluctance to let Carson drive alone (he takes his driving test Tuesday!!!), and when Gary asked Carson whether he’d gotten the Jeep up over 80, I interjected that that’d be hard to do, since he’s allowed to drive only up and down the driveway. (Oh, c'mon; that’s not quite true.) Gary laughed. “He’ll be in good shape when he goes to sell that,” he said, “because it’ll only have 5 more miles on it than when he bought it.” I love Gary. I laughed until I snorted.
We all were cold and tired, so we said goodnight, and Carson drove us home. We had said goodbye to Mike earlier—and we had a feeling he’d be OK, with Kathy and Elvis at his side.
Mike had called me at home and sounded as if he really needed some company, so I came down Wednesday morning and was pleasantly surprised to find him up and around so early. He seemed happy to see me, too—he grabbed my hand and kissed it, and held on rather tightly for a while there—and later told me he’d had a lump in his throat when he'd realized I had come.
I bring up Wednesday because Mike had a brand-new gadget—a portable CD player from Recreation, along with a dozen or so classic country CDS—which I found brilliant. Not only is the music soothing, but the distraction of all those buttons to push and batteries to replace and headphones to adjust makes for powerful medicine.
So when Carson and I went down tonight before Bingo, we brought Mike four shiny new AA batteries and a country Christmas compilation I thought he’d enjoy. Except he didn’t really notice them—or us—because he was so totally distracted by that blasted new CD player. This could be a record: inspiration to irritation in two days flat.
He’d sent a staffer out with money and a mission, and Mike now had a new Elvis collectors set (complete with a mini-guitar candle), more batteries than he could carry and even a new battery recharger. He did congratulate Carson on his golf team’s success, but then Mike promptly shunned our batteries, decided he wasn’t ready for Christmas music, put his headphones back on and turned the volume up to 11. I think we were just stiffed by Kathy Mattea.
Mike came to Bingo, so Carson sat with him when he wasn’t helping with the prize cart, but within 5 minutes he was playing Mike’s Bingo card so Mike could switch out CDs—and leave to check on his batteries, and come back to readjust his headphones.
All in all, we batted only 1-of-3 with our gifts. We had brought a strawberry-rhubarb pie for Ray McDade (who had really wanted a slice at the Veterans Day program, but they never unwrapped the pie), but Ray was at church, so we left it with his neighbor. Our only success was Dorothy, who happily accepted her two giant cans of little Vienna sausages (she always picks the canned meats from the Bingo cart), in thanks for her willingness to help out last week when I needed to leave a little early.
Naturally, everyone was thrilled to see Carson. David Fox and Cal Bush shook his hand warmly, and Dahl saluted him from across the table. Wesley always calls him “brother,” which I love, and Carson eventually interacted with just about everyone, thanks to the roaming prize cart.
Carson had asked me whether Gary would come to Bingo—he didn’t, but I did catch him as he zipped by the Bingo door. Carson waved from across the room, and Gary asked us to find him before we left so he could see Carson’s new car.
We did. Gary and Carson had a few male-bonding chuckles over my reluctance to let Carson drive alone (he takes his driving test Tuesday!!!), and when Gary asked Carson whether he’d gotten the Jeep up over 80, I interjected that that’d be hard to do, since he’s allowed to drive only up and down the driveway. (Oh, c'mon; that’s not quite true.) Gary laughed. “He’ll be in good shape when he goes to sell that,” he said, “because it’ll only have 5 more miles on it than when he bought it.” I love Gary. I laughed until I snorted.
We all were cold and tired, so we said goodnight, and Carson drove us home. We had said goodbye to Mike earlier—and we had a feeling he’d be OK, with Kathy and Elvis at his side.
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