Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Tonight, at my first Home Bingo since the Grinches tried to steal Christmas, I can report that absence does, indeed, make the heart grow fonder. I suppose that’s why adages are adages. And bygones are bygones.
I walked in the door early, planning to check in on Gary, and there stood Dorothy. I had a feeling this first encounter would set the tone for the rest of the night.
“We haven’t seen you all year!” Dorothy chirped. “You haven’t aged a bit!”
I laughed. “Give me a few minutes,” I said.
Doreen was with Gary in his room. We talked for a few minutes, but mostly I wanted to see whether Gary planned to go on the field trip to the Muckleshoot Casino on Thursday. He did, and he’d already scored one win: Gary said both of the home’s regular buses are out of service, so they had to borrow a smaller one for the casino trip—and in a lottery drawing, he won one of only two coveted wheelchair spots. I promised him that was a good omen—and I promised to meet him at the casino.
Another positive development: Ray McDade came to Bingo, and he still had two feet. I’d been worried about Ray and that humongous, hideous blister on his heel. He’d sent me a spooky email that said only, “Foot not good.” I emailed back, called and wrote on his Facebook wall in search of an update, but I’d heard nothing back. But Ray looked good, and his foot looked attached. “It’s finally getting better,” Ray said. “I will never forget the look on your face when you saw it.”
The lucky streak rolled on, in the form of a new Bingo helper. Resident Doris’ son Patrick introduced himself, jumped right in as official Bingo confirmer and did an excellent job. (Just ask Ed, who called him over to pronounce, “Hey! You’re pretty good!”)
As official prize-cart pusher, I struggled through the first few games wrestling a squeaky, uncooperative steel cart—and, at one point, crashing it into a table. (“Bad driving,” smiled Ed the constant evaluator.) And then, out of nowhere, Dorothy appeared with the smooth-rolling red plastic cart—and even helped transfer all the prizes onto it.
There was a small crowd, which always equals slow-going Bingo, but it was an especially entertaining one.
Billy won the very last Bingo of the first half, meaning there was just one prize left on the cart: a lonely Sudoku book. I wheeled over and said, “So, what would you like?” And he said, “The tray.”
For the second half, I put two stinky boxes of powdered laundry detergent on the second shelf of the cart. No one ever picks the stinky powdered laundry detergent. When Harriett won, I pointed it out just to make sure she knew it was an option.
“I don’t like that detergent,” she said.
“Nobody does,” I said.
Then she won again. “That detergent’s still there,” I said.
“I knew you were going to say that,” she said.
When Harriett won the last game, too, there was nothing left but detergent. And, as Billy learned, the tray was not an option.
“Enjoy your detergent,” I told her.
“I’m giving it away,” she laughed.
Greg the Bingo caller thanked Patrick and me over the microphone—maybe because I laughed at his “G-55” joke (“Gee, officer, I didn’t know I was going 55”), or maybe because Patrick dislodged stuck Bingo balls at least three times. Either way, it was sweet.
I thanked them back, hugged Ray goodbye and said I’d see everyone Friday.
It's a whole new year of Bingo.
Tonight, at my first Home Bingo since the Grinches tried to steal Christmas, I can report that absence does, indeed, make the heart grow fonder. I suppose that’s why adages are adages. And bygones are bygones.
I walked in the door early, planning to check in on Gary, and there stood Dorothy. I had a feeling this first encounter would set the tone for the rest of the night.
“We haven’t seen you all year!” Dorothy chirped. “You haven’t aged a bit!”
I laughed. “Give me a few minutes,” I said.
Doreen was with Gary in his room. We talked for a few minutes, but mostly I wanted to see whether Gary planned to go on the field trip to the Muckleshoot Casino on Thursday. He did, and he’d already scored one win: Gary said both of the home’s regular buses are out of service, so they had to borrow a smaller one for the casino trip—and in a lottery drawing, he won one of only two coveted wheelchair spots. I promised him that was a good omen—and I promised to meet him at the casino.
Another positive development: Ray McDade came to Bingo, and he still had two feet. I’d been worried about Ray and that humongous, hideous blister on his heel. He’d sent me a spooky email that said only, “Foot not good.” I emailed back, called and wrote on his Facebook wall in search of an update, but I’d heard nothing back. But Ray looked good, and his foot looked attached. “It’s finally getting better,” Ray said. “I will never forget the look on your face when you saw it.”
The lucky streak rolled on, in the form of a new Bingo helper. Resident Doris’ son Patrick introduced himself, jumped right in as official Bingo confirmer and did an excellent job. (Just ask Ed, who called him over to pronounce, “Hey! You’re pretty good!”)
As official prize-cart pusher, I struggled through the first few games wrestling a squeaky, uncooperative steel cart—and, at one point, crashing it into a table. (“Bad driving,” smiled Ed the constant evaluator.) And then, out of nowhere, Dorothy appeared with the smooth-rolling red plastic cart—and even helped transfer all the prizes onto it.
There was a small crowd, which always equals slow-going Bingo, but it was an especially entertaining one.
Billy won the very last Bingo of the first half, meaning there was just one prize left on the cart: a lonely Sudoku book. I wheeled over and said, “So, what would you like?” And he said, “The tray.”
For the second half, I put two stinky boxes of powdered laundry detergent on the second shelf of the cart. No one ever picks the stinky powdered laundry detergent. When Harriett won, I pointed it out just to make sure she knew it was an option.
“I don’t like that detergent,” she said.
“Nobody does,” I said.
Then she won again. “That detergent’s still there,” I said.
“I knew you were going to say that,” she said.
When Harriett won the last game, too, there was nothing left but detergent. And, as Billy learned, the tray was not an option.
“Enjoy your detergent,” I told her.
“I’m giving it away,” she laughed.
Greg the Bingo caller thanked Patrick and me over the microphone—maybe because I laughed at his “G-55” joke (“Gee, officer, I didn’t know I was going 55”), or maybe because Patrick dislodged stuck Bingo balls at least three times. Either way, it was sweet.
I thanked them back, hugged Ray goodbye and said I’d see everyone Friday.
It's a whole new year of Bingo.