Saturday, May 14, 2011
I crashed another group’s Bingo today—Saturday is turning into my best opportunity to get to the Soldiers Home, and Bingo always has been my best opportunity to see a lot of residents all at once.
And today a lot of people were at Bingo. I sat with Ray McDade, who was sweetly helping Doug keep track of his numbers. Ray hadn’t won all day.
“I’m here to bring you luck,” I told him.
He won that game and a not-so-crisp dollar bill.
Bill Crowell walked by outside the window, and I waved him in. I talked him into playing Bingo, but Ray was having no luck talking Bill into buying his old electric scooter.
“It’s only $900, and I paid $2,800 for it,” Ray said.
“Why would I buy one when I can get one for free?” laughed Bill, whose daughter is arranging to have one delivered.
Bill had just missed Bingo snacks, and he was eyeing Doug’s bag of Doritos. A Bingo volunteer brought Bill two bags of chips, two Hostess cupcakes and juice.
“What do you call those things?” Bill asked.
“Cupcakes,” I said.
“Yeah, but what else are they called?” he said.
“Cupcakes,” I said. He laughed.
By the time Bingo was over, we’d all agreed to go back to Ray’s room to help Bill watch his video interview on Ray's computer.
I said hi to Cal Bush and Ari and Ann Lawson, and then I noticed a line of people wanting to talk: Harold, Jim, Dorothy and Faith. Someone was always interrupting someone else, but it was fun and funny all at once.
Ray scooted ahead of us, and although Bill had his push-walker, he had to stop halfway to the Barracks to rest.
“This place is just a clearinghouse for the dying,” Bill said.
“There’s still a lot of life here,” I said.
By the time we got to Ray’s room, he had turned into a used-scooter salesman.
“Take it down the hall for a spin,” Ray told Bill. Bill politely declined.
“You’re just afraid you’re going to like it,” Ray said. “Look at that seat—you can flip a switch and it’s portable! The battery just pops right out of there!”
Bill wasn’t buying.
We called up the website and looked through the residents’ video interviews.
Ray told me one of the residents I had interviewed had just died.
“See?” Bill said. “A clearinghouse for the dying.”
We watched Bill’s video, and he finally got to see the part he really wanted to see—about Doris in Texas, who wrote her name on a key that Bill promptly lost.
“Maybe she’ll see that,” Bill said.
“She could,” I said.
We kept watching Bill’s video, and Ray said, “That’s just lazy talk.”
Bill laughed. “My accent,” he said. “He’s always on me about that.”
“He’s afraid to move his lips. He’s afraid to enunciate,” Ray said.
Now we all laughed.
Bill and I got up to leave, and Ray tried to push his scooter on him again.
“Buy it now, and if you get a free one within a month, I’ll buy it back.”
Bill explained how his daughter would be upset after she’d gone to all that work.
Ray said, “Whatever you just said, I didn’t understand it.”
Bill asked me to translate. I laughed again.
"I speak Bill,” I said.
Ray and Bill have a wonderful friendship. They are both smart, and a little smart-assy, and they tease each other and support each other and look out for each other. I really, really enjoyed spending the afternoon with both of them.
Ray gave up on the used-scooter pitch but suggested maybe I should push Bill in his walker. First, though, I had to stash my purse and iced tea in the walker basket—after moving Bill’s Bingo snacks.
“You don’t have to worry about smashing my candy,” Bill said.
“Cupcakes,” I said.
I crashed another group’s Bingo today—Saturday is turning into my best opportunity to get to the Soldiers Home, and Bingo always has been my best opportunity to see a lot of residents all at once.
And today a lot of people were at Bingo. I sat with Ray McDade, who was sweetly helping Doug keep track of his numbers. Ray hadn’t won all day.
“I’m here to bring you luck,” I told him.
He won that game and a not-so-crisp dollar bill.
Bill Crowell walked by outside the window, and I waved him in. I talked him into playing Bingo, but Ray was having no luck talking Bill into buying his old electric scooter.
“It’s only $900, and I paid $2,800 for it,” Ray said.
“Why would I buy one when I can get one for free?” laughed Bill, whose daughter is arranging to have one delivered.
Bill had just missed Bingo snacks, and he was eyeing Doug’s bag of Doritos. A Bingo volunteer brought Bill two bags of chips, two Hostess cupcakes and juice.
“What do you call those things?” Bill asked.
“Cupcakes,” I said.
“Yeah, but what else are they called?” he said.
“Cupcakes,” I said. He laughed.
By the time Bingo was over, we’d all agreed to go back to Ray’s room to help Bill watch his video interview on Ray's computer.
I said hi to Cal Bush and Ari and Ann Lawson, and then I noticed a line of people wanting to talk: Harold, Jim, Dorothy and Faith. Someone was always interrupting someone else, but it was fun and funny all at once.
Ray scooted ahead of us, and although Bill had his push-walker, he had to stop halfway to the Barracks to rest.
“This place is just a clearinghouse for the dying,” Bill said.
“There’s still a lot of life here,” I said.
By the time we got to Ray’s room, he had turned into a used-scooter salesman.
“Take it down the hall for a spin,” Ray told Bill. Bill politely declined.
“You’re just afraid you’re going to like it,” Ray said. “Look at that seat—you can flip a switch and it’s portable! The battery just pops right out of there!”
Bill wasn’t buying.
We called up the website and looked through the residents’ video interviews.
Ray told me one of the residents I had interviewed had just died.
“See?” Bill said. “A clearinghouse for the dying.”
We watched Bill’s video, and he finally got to see the part he really wanted to see—about Doris in Texas, who wrote her name on a key that Bill promptly lost.
“Maybe she’ll see that,” Bill said.
“She could,” I said.
We kept watching Bill’s video, and Ray said, “That’s just lazy talk.”
Bill laughed. “My accent,” he said. “He’s always on me about that.”
“He’s afraid to move his lips. He’s afraid to enunciate,” Ray said.
Now we all laughed.
Bill and I got up to leave, and Ray tried to push his scooter on him again.
“Buy it now, and if you get a free one within a month, I’ll buy it back.”
Bill explained how his daughter would be upset after she’d gone to all that work.
Ray said, “Whatever you just said, I didn’t understand it.”
Bill asked me to translate. I laughed again.
"I speak Bill,” I said.
Ray and Bill have a wonderful friendship. They are both smart, and a little smart-assy, and they tease each other and support each other and look out for each other. I really, really enjoyed spending the afternoon with both of them.
Ray gave up on the used-scooter pitch but suggested maybe I should push Bill in his walker. First, though, I had to stash my purse and iced tea in the walker basket—after moving Bill’s Bingo snacks.
“You don’t have to worry about smashing my candy,” Bill said.
“Cupcakes,” I said.