Balloons and Bingo...

“So Fred, do you want to come over and join us?”

“I know what you want me tah do,”

“Oh yes? What is that, Fred?”

“You want me tah spank ya!” 

            Sometimes age doesn’t matter.  Sometimes 89 and 42 can work.  At least in a nursing home.  Fred lives there, the nurse might feel like it, but in actuality, “purely platonic” is more the general idea.   Service day for Puget Sound Academy students held such surprises.  The aforementioned event was the prequel to BALLOON AEROBICS.  During this acrobatic activity, you hit, kick, or swing at and miss the balloon because you move with a five second delay—you still make contact though, which is really talented, as the balloon strikes you on the head instead.  A similarly suspended reaction to this occurs as well,     

  hit…………………………………………………….*blink*………………………………………………………..”Oh!”       

Also while there, I, as a self-respecting English aficionado, noted the particular literary tastes of the residents.  I was quite pleased by this inclusion!  Wheeling resident Orville into the exercise room, for example, gave all those surrounding a glimpse over his shoulder of a nude backside from Guatemala, glossy on National Geographic magazine paper.  The magazine remained opened to this page throughout the exercising—Orville managed to keep “reading” while absently kicking at the balloon—and also through most of the Bingo game to follow.  Later, I must confess, I searched for that particular page, just for documentation purposes of course, but failed.  I may have imagined it, but I think I caught a flash of luminescent ceiling light glinting off a folded piece of shiny paper in Orville’s pocket as they wheeled him out…

            Bingo offered its own entertainment, great sport that it is.  After each muffled cry of the game’s title, the winning card needed to be checked to see it was correct.  There were a few occasions where a mysterious uncalled “O-75” had somehow slipped in.  Winners received $0.25 in the “bank,” to be applied toward tasty treats like pretzels and unidentified sugarless hard candy.  Now, to be honest,  $0.25 seemed a bit cheap really, especially after all of the effort straining to hear the spaces called, realizing the space existed on the card, picking up a chip, and actually placing it onto the correct space—and all this done while sipping instant hot cocoa from plastic maroon mugs.  $0.25?  Really?  That totals to something ludicrous like $1.50 an hour.   Does being retired mean you’re beyond the helping hand of minimum wage and labor unions?  Apparently.  The facility looked pretty nice from the outside, but who knows, obviously my perspective was limited to the neatly kept grounds, the modern building, the cozy lobby, the nice workers, the instant hot cocoa.  But no matter, the residents seemed entirely content, in a slightly entranced/anesthetized, and therefore mild sort of way.  This effect was mostly universal, though when the nurses were going about inviting one and all to the day’s events, some residents seemed a bit more recalcitrant to comply:

“Merille, do you want to join us for games, hun?”

Pause...pause.................................pause.

“Merille, hun, do you want to—"

“I wanna sleep.”

“The activities are just for a little while.”

“Well, I wanna sleep.”

“You can sleep after—"

“I WANNA SLEEP!”      

“Ok, ok…” We let her sleep.         

            But oh the laughter and lessons learned from those who have lived long!  I didn’t know I would be so enlightened on what I have to look forward to--because balloons and Bingo isn’t a bad combo.