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Games of Chance

10/9/2011

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Saturday, October 8, 2011

Yesterday I got an email from Ray McDade that was inspiring in its unselfishness but painful in its message:

“Here is a resident that needs your help and it is playing cribbage. He has hid his head in the sand and does nothing.  He does play cribbage. [I’ve deleted the resident’s name and other identifying information since I don’t know him. Yet.] Anyway I like to play but he needs you more.”

I wrote back to Ray and suggested we both invite the resident to play cribbage. And then I went to Bingo to sit in on another group’s session.

Ray was dozing. In fact, the whole Bingo room seemed sleepy and morose. Until a sharp, piercing yell woke up everyone.

Ray was sitting at a table littered with someone’s dried-out lunch remains. “Unappetizing” is not a strong enough word.

“That looks like my dog’s food after he’s ignored it for a day,” I told Ray. “I’ll take it to the kitchen.”

I scooped up the plate along with three half-filled glasses.

Ann Lawson shrieked. “You can’t move that!” she yelled. “Yelled” is not a strong enough word. She was incensed. I was shocked. “The nurse has to see that!” she screamed. “Put it back now!” I sheepishly shuffled back to the table and set down the desiccated meat chunks. (Although I did rebelliously cover them with a napkin.) After my last frustrating Bingo session, I was thisclose to walking out. Instead I sighed and sat down with Ray, who wisely suggested I scurry to his room and retrieve his cribbage board.  

“Let’s go ask (the head-in-the-sand resident) to play cribbage with us,” he said. “We can go after the first Blackout game.”

Ray is smart, and I was thankful. So while Ray played, I wished Leo Mortell a belated Happy Birthday, waved hello to David Fox, pawed through the Bingo-card box to look for Ken Levick’s missing lucky card and checked in with Dorothy. I avoided eye contact with Ann and the meat chunks. Ray won the $5 Blackout, and we headed off to meet a man who possibly really needed a game of cribbage.

“How should I introduce you?” Ray asked.

“Say I’m your cribbage partner,” I suggested. Ray smiled.

We found the resident in bed. Ray introduced me and urged him to join us. He was not moved to move. Ray pushed a little, but not a lot, and we eventually left on our own with a promise for “next time.”

Ray and I sat in what I call the “sun room” and caught up on my parents’ visit and my son’s birthday. I told Ray I was going to set my phone on the table because Carson was having one guy friend and two girls over, and here I was a good half-hour away. Ray and I talked about the teenage influences of alcohol, drugs and self-discipline. We talked about Ray’s busy weekend of visitors, Ray’s tummy troubles and Ray’s 2-0 cribbage record against me.

And then he beat me again.  Make that 3-0.
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    Author
    My name is Sandy Deneau Dunham. I'm a journalist who’s worked at The Phoenix Gazette, The (Tacoma) News Tribune,  The Seattle Times, Town Hall Seattle and Pacific Lutheran University. I'm now back at The Seattle Times, as associate editor of its gorgeously glossy Pacific NW magazine. I've been a volunteer at the Washington Soldiers Home and Colony in Orting, Washington, since January 2009, and I am still a remedial videographer.   

     

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