Sunday, September 4, 2011
I had a very precise Sunday plan in mind today: After a walk in the sunshine, I was going to the Soldiers Home to a) catch up with Gary, whom I hadn’t found on Thursday; b) stop in Bill Crowell’s room and c) take him with me to Ray McDade’s room so he could join us in a game of cribbage. Then I was going to a movie at 4:20, which would get me home just as my son was finishing his golf game.
Really, you would think I would know better by now.
Gary was in his room, which is always a rare and happy surprise. We talked about golf (as Gary was telling me about the golf trips he and his co-workers used to take, I could actually see him seeing himself on the courses), his dialysis, Ann Lawson’s unfortunate accident (on a solo trip into Orting, her electric scooter tipped off the road and threw her into blackberry bushes) and coin collecting. I told him I was going to find Ray for a game of cribbage, and Gary said, “Is that 15-2, 15-4?” I laughed out loud—that was my only long-term memory of cribbage, too. I could talk to Gary all day—and I almost did—but I still had a chance of sticking to The Plan.
Bill Crowell was in his room, too—but he had plans of his own. He’d been to church with Ray, and I think he was looking forward to some alone time to clean his glasses and blob in front of the TV. I hugged him goodbye and promised we’d catch up over cribbage next time. “Cribbage,” Bill said. “Is that with a board? 15-2, 15-4?” I laughed again, but this universal cribbage code was starting to creep me out a little.
Ray was in his room, too. His new roommate had settled in, and Ray showed me his computer cribbage program. “It’s not as fun as the real thing,” Ray said. So we grabbed his board and headed to the Activity Center for face-to-face competition. By this time it was 3:45, and my planned departure time was 3:50. The Plan was looking rather unlikely.
Ray is amazingly sharp—certainly he counts those cribbage points as fast as any computer. “I don’t think cribbage is all luck,” Ray said. “I think there’s some skill involved.”
“There’s definitely strategy,” I said.
“I think it keeps me sharp,” Ray said. I agreed—he sees every card combination, keeps a running point total, remembers which plays are worth what—and I felt rather dull in comparison.
“I’m just happy I remember that 15-2, 15-4 thing,” I said.
We finished up at 4:20, exactly. I never made the movie. But I spent time with three amazing men, all of whom thanked me for coming—and on the way home I stopped and bought movie-theater popcorn to go. Couldn’t have planned that any better.
I had a very precise Sunday plan in mind today: After a walk in the sunshine, I was going to the Soldiers Home to a) catch up with Gary, whom I hadn’t found on Thursday; b) stop in Bill Crowell’s room and c) take him with me to Ray McDade’s room so he could join us in a game of cribbage. Then I was going to a movie at 4:20, which would get me home just as my son was finishing his golf game.
Really, you would think I would know better by now.
Gary was in his room, which is always a rare and happy surprise. We talked about golf (as Gary was telling me about the golf trips he and his co-workers used to take, I could actually see him seeing himself on the courses), his dialysis, Ann Lawson’s unfortunate accident (on a solo trip into Orting, her electric scooter tipped off the road and threw her into blackberry bushes) and coin collecting. I told him I was going to find Ray for a game of cribbage, and Gary said, “Is that 15-2, 15-4?” I laughed out loud—that was my only long-term memory of cribbage, too. I could talk to Gary all day—and I almost did—but I still had a chance of sticking to The Plan.
Bill Crowell was in his room, too—but he had plans of his own. He’d been to church with Ray, and I think he was looking forward to some alone time to clean his glasses and blob in front of the TV. I hugged him goodbye and promised we’d catch up over cribbage next time. “Cribbage,” Bill said. “Is that with a board? 15-2, 15-4?” I laughed again, but this universal cribbage code was starting to creep me out a little.
Ray was in his room, too. His new roommate had settled in, and Ray showed me his computer cribbage program. “It’s not as fun as the real thing,” Ray said. So we grabbed his board and headed to the Activity Center for face-to-face competition. By this time it was 3:45, and my planned departure time was 3:50. The Plan was looking rather unlikely.
Ray is amazingly sharp—certainly he counts those cribbage points as fast as any computer. “I don’t think cribbage is all luck,” Ray said. “I think there’s some skill involved.”
“There’s definitely strategy,” I said.
“I think it keeps me sharp,” Ray said. I agreed—he sees every card combination, keeps a running point total, remembers which plays are worth what—and I felt rather dull in comparison.
“I’m just happy I remember that 15-2, 15-4 thing,” I said.
We finished up at 4:20, exactly. I never made the movie. But I spent time with three amazing men, all of whom thanked me for coming—and on the way home I stopped and bought movie-theater popcorn to go. Couldn’t have planned that any better.