Wesley, front, takes the gold medal in downhill skiing.
Friday, April 16, 2010
The quarantine germs are no longer a threat at the Soldiers Home, but the repercussions linger like a loose cough. I went down for Bingo tonight, and people were worried. It was 6:15. Bingo starts at 7. A little group had formed outside the Bingo room, discussing options. They all sounded kind of bleak.
It was supposed to be Home Bingo, according to the monthly activities calendar, with prizes provided by the Soldiers Home. But because of the quarantine, a local Alcoholics Anonymous group had had to cancel its earlier Bingo night and wanted to reschedule for tonight. Problem One: Rumor was, the Home prize cupboard was empty. Problem Two: No one from AA had shown up yet with their own prizes. And really, what’s the point of Bingo without prizes?
I suggested I could hand out money, but it’d have to be a penny per Bingo. Funny no one jumped on that offer.
It was still early, though, so Mike and I went down to his room. By the time we came back, a little before 7, there was still no sign of the Bingo cavalry. Wesley was fixing to call the numbers, and I was fixing to handle the floor. (Which I ended up doing in a far different sense—Bingo is held in the nursing-center dining room, and tonight for some reason it looked as if there’d been a food fight between feuding fettuccine alfredo McCoys and hamburger Hatfields.) But then, just before 7, a happy chorus of “B-I-N-G-O” filled the room, and we were relieved of duty, and of worry. AA had saved the day.
So I got to sit with Mike while he played, and score this photo of Wesley’s framed souvenir of his amazing gold-medal victory (see earlier blog post).
The AA people were lovely, and very efficient—and they handed out real money: a buck per Bingo, and 5 for a blackout. Whadya know? Things turned out about 100 percent better than they could have.
The quarantine germs are no longer a threat at the Soldiers Home, but the repercussions linger like a loose cough. I went down for Bingo tonight, and people were worried. It was 6:15. Bingo starts at 7. A little group had formed outside the Bingo room, discussing options. They all sounded kind of bleak.
It was supposed to be Home Bingo, according to the monthly activities calendar, with prizes provided by the Soldiers Home. But because of the quarantine, a local Alcoholics Anonymous group had had to cancel its earlier Bingo night and wanted to reschedule for tonight. Problem One: Rumor was, the Home prize cupboard was empty. Problem Two: No one from AA had shown up yet with their own prizes. And really, what’s the point of Bingo without prizes?
I suggested I could hand out money, but it’d have to be a penny per Bingo. Funny no one jumped on that offer.
It was still early, though, so Mike and I went down to his room. By the time we came back, a little before 7, there was still no sign of the Bingo cavalry. Wesley was fixing to call the numbers, and I was fixing to handle the floor. (Which I ended up doing in a far different sense—Bingo is held in the nursing-center dining room, and tonight for some reason it looked as if there’d been a food fight between feuding fettuccine alfredo McCoys and hamburger Hatfields.) But then, just before 7, a happy chorus of “B-I-N-G-O” filled the room, and we were relieved of duty, and of worry. AA had saved the day.
So I got to sit with Mike while he played, and score this photo of Wesley’s framed souvenir of his amazing gold-medal victory (see earlier blog post).
The AA people were lovely, and very efficient—and they handed out real money: a buck per Bingo, and 5 for a blackout. Whadya know? Things turned out about 100 percent better than they could have.
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