Wednesday, April 20, 2011


TWICE A MONTH, an hour of Bingo is held in the basement, or the "lower level" as it's called here at the Manor.

There's no cost; just come in, select 2 cards and find your place at 1 of the 3 long tables. I've always wondered if the people who show up are gamblers at heart? It would seem so. I, myself, love a good slot machine, even if I'm hesitant to admit it.

Last evening there were 18 of us and I don't remember whether I counted the callers or not. Ken spins, Shirley calls and her speed is sometimes hard to match as we players scan our cards.

I think of it as a good brain exercise, and yes, once in a while I get befuddled, but at least I can remember which game we're playing. "Are we playing diamonds?" a player will ask, in the middle of a game in which we're trying to complete a layer cake session. Sometimes I think of the hour as a sort of intelligence test and I know too well that the time is coming when I won't be quite so on top of things.

Last time we played, Mr. Bob stayed to help pack up the Bingo paraphernalia and I went on up in the elevator, realizing as I reached my door that he had the keys. No problem, I just waited in one of the chairs by the elevator. Time went on and more time passed and the one elevator that was working kept making its rounds and when it reached our floor the door opened to reveal emptiness before it closed and the elevator returned to the basement lower level. And so it went for quite a while. I was afraid we'd pass like ships in the night if I went back down to look for Mr. Bob, but my reasoning dictated that only the one elevator was working and I wouldn't miss him if I went down to see if perhaps he'd fallen. Down I went into the bowels of the building, which is really spooky at night. I looked in both Mr. Bob.
I'll admit that the possibility of the Rapture crossed my mind about that time, a half hour after I'd last seen the man, but surely there'd be a puddle of clothes as evidence if what I'd heard about it was true.

Back up I went to sit a while longer, before I tried our apartment door again........there I found him in his favorite chair contentedly watching television. If I could have captioned the scene, it would have been with the words, "ME WORRY?" over his head.

Back to Bingo.......
It was just short of an hour when we finished last evening. The prize for each game is 2 first class postage stamps which I think is brilliant, for anyone can use them and I experience a little flutter of excitement when I win a game, which didn't happen last night. Mr. Bob won a game but it takes more than 2 postage stamps to excite him, just as it takes more than my disappearance to concern him.

After the games, I stayed close by his side as he helped Ken box up the Bingo cards, the spinner cage and the balls. And we rode up on the elevator together, joined at the hip, as we say.


  1. He hadnt locked the Door, Miss Jane!!!!
    A Wrinkly

  2. Edie in Indiana sent this:

    These are so good—I don’t want to miss a one! I must ask you—where are you now? What is your current address? I may dig out a map and check on you one of these times,

  3. Thanks for once again providing my early morning laugh for the day!!! I was especially amused by your thought that you may have missed your calling for the Rapture. That memory will having me laughing to myself and causing those sitting around me to wonder if I've finally "lost it".
    TO Joanne